Fifteer
Manuscript, Archives,
and Rare Book Library
EMORY UNIVERSITY
" Marvels of clear type and general neatness."—Daily Telegraph.
MORLEY'S
UNIVERSAL LIBRARY.
In Monthly Volumes, ONE SHILLING Eaeh.
READY ON THE i$th OF EACH MONTH.
MORLEY'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY.
1. SHERIDAN'S PLAYS.
2. PLAYS FROM MOLIERE. By English Dramatists.
3. MARLOWE'S FAUSTUS AND GOETHE'S FAUST.
4. CHRONICLE OF THE CID. *
5. RABELAIS' GARGANTUA, AND THE HEROIC DEEDS
OF PANTAGRUEL.
6. THE PRINCE. By Maehiavelli.
7. BACON'S ESSAYS.
8. DE FOE'S JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR.
9. LOCKE ON TOLERATION AND ON CIVIL GOVERN¬
MENT ; WITH SIR ROBERT FILMER'S PATRIARCHA.
10. BUTLER'S ANALOGY OF RELIGION,
n. DRYDEN'S VIRGIL
12. SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DEMONOLOGY AND
WITCHCRAFT.
13. HERRICK'S HESPERIDES.
14. COLERIDGE'S TABLE TALK: WITH THE ANCIENT
MARINER AND CHRISTABEL.
15. BOCCACCIO'S DECAMERON.
16. STERNE'S TRISTRAM SHANDY.
17. HOMER'S ILIAD, Translated by George Chapman.
18. MEDIAEVAL TALES.
19. JOHNSON'S RASSELAS; AND VOLTAIRE'S CANDIDE.
20. PLAYS AND POEMS BY BEN JONSON.
21. HOBBES'S LEVIATHAN.
22. BUTLER'S HUDIBRAS.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
LONDON AND NEW YORK.
MORIEY'S ONIVERSAL LIBRARY.
23. IDEAL COMMONWEALTHS: MORE'S UTOPIA;
BACON'S NEW ATLANTIS; AND CAMPANELLA'S
CITY OF THE SUN.
24. CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY.
25 and 26. DON QUIXOTE (Two Volumes).
27. BURLESQUE PLAYS AND POEMS.
28. DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY. Longfellow's Translation.
29. GOLDSMITH'S VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, PLAYS,
AND POEMS.
30. FABLES AND PROVERBS FROM THE SANSKRIT.
31. CHARLES LAMB'S ESSAYS OF ELIA.
32. THE HISTORY OF THOMAS ELLWOOD, Written by
Himself.
33. EMERSON'S ESSAYS, REPRESENTATIVE MEN, AND
SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE.
34- SOUTHEY'S LIFE OF NELSON.
35. DE QUINCEY'S OPIUM EATER, SHAKSPEARE,
GOETHE.
36. STORIES OF IRELAND. By Maria Edgeworth.
37. THE PLAYS OF ARISTOPHANES, Translated by Frere.
38. SPEECHES AND LETTERS. By Edmund Burke.
39- THOMAS A KEMPIS' IMITATION OF CHRIST.
40. POPULAR SONGS OF IRELAND, Collected by
Thomas Crofton Croker.
41. THE PLAYS OF JISCHYLUS, Translated by R. Potter.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
LONDON AND NEW YORK.
EUGENIE GRANDET
HONORE DE BALZAC
EUGENIE GRANDET
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
New York: 9 Lafayette Place
1886
© ®
BALZAC'S NOVELS
IN ENGLISH. !
1. P15RE CORIOT.
2. THE DUCHESSE HE
LANGEAIS.
3. CESAR BIROTTEAU.
4. EUGENIE GRANDET.
(Others to follow.)
DALZIEL BROTHERS, CAMDEN PRESS, LONDON, N.W.
SCENES FROM PROVINCIAL LIFE.
EUGENIE GRANDET.
I.
There are houses in certain provincial towns whose
aspect inspires melancholy, akin to that called forth
by sombre cloisters, dreary moorlands, or the deso¬
lation of ruins. Within these houses there is, per¬
haps, the silence of the cloister, the barrenness of
moors, the skeleton of ruins; life and movement are
so stagnant there that a stranger might think them
uninhabited, were it not that he encounters suddenly
the pale, cold glance of a motionless person, whose
half-monastic face peers beyond the window-casing at
the sound of an unaccustomed step.
Such elements of sadness formed the physiognomy, as
it were, of a dwelling-house in Saumur which stands at
the end of the steep street leading to the chateau in
the upper part of the town. This street — now little
frequented, hot in summer, cold in winter, dark in cer¬
tain sections—is remarkable for the resonance of its
2 Eugenie Grandet.
little pebbly pavement, always clean and dry, for the
narrowness of its tortuous road-way, for the peaceful
stillness of its houses, which belong to the Old town
and are over-topped by the ramparts. Houses three
#enturies old are still solid, though built of wood,
and their divers aspects add to the originality which
commends this portion of Saumur to the attention
of artists and antiquaries.
It is difficult to pass these houses without admiring
the enormous oaken beams, their ends carved into
fantastic figures, which crown with a black bas-relief
the lower floor of most of them. In one place these
transverse timbers are covered with slate and mark a
bluish line along the frail wall of a dwelling covered by
a roof en colombage which bends beneath the weight of
years, and whose rotting shingles are twisted by the
alternate action of sun and rain. In another place
blackened, worn-out window-sills, with delicate sculp¬
tures now scarcely discernible, seem too weak to bear the
brown clay pots from which springs the heart's-ease or
the rose-bush of some poor working-woman. Farther
on are doors studded with enormous nails, where the
genius of our forefathers has traced domestic hieroglyph¬
ics, of which the meaning is now lost forever. Here a
Protestant attested his belief; there a Leaguer cursed
Henry IV. ; elsewhere some bourgeois has carved the
insignia of his noblesse de cloches, symbols of his long-
Eugenie Grandet.
3
forgotten magisterial glory. The whole history of
France is there.
Next to a tottering house with roughly plastered
walls, where an artisan enshrines his tools, rises the
mansion of a country gentleman, on the stone arch
of which above the door vestiges of armorial bearings
may still be seen, battered by the many revolutions
that have shaken France since 1789. In this hilly
street the ground-floors of the merchants are neither
shops nor warehouses ; lovers of the Middle Ages will
here find the ouvrouere of our forefathers in all its
naive simplicity. These low rooms, which have no
shop-frontage, no show-windows, in fact no glass at
all, are deep and dark and without interior or exte¬
rior decoration. Their doors open in two parts, each
roughly iron-bound; the upper half is fastened back
within the room, the lower half, fitted with a spring-
bell, swings continually to and fro. Air and light
reach the damp den within, either through the upper
half of the door, or through an open space between
the ceiling and a low front wall, breast-high, which
is closed by solid shutters that are taken down every
morning, put up every evening, and held in place
by heavy iron bars.
This wall serves as a counter for the merchandise. No
delusive display is there ; only samples of the business,
whatever it ma}T chance to be, — such, for instance, as
4 Eugenie Grandet.
three or four tubs full of codfish and salt, a few bundles
of sail-cloth, cordage, copper wire hanging from the
joists above, iron hoops for casks ranged along the wall,
or a few pieces of cloth upon the shelves. Enter. A
neat girl, glowing with youth, wearing a white kerchief,
her arms red and bare, drops her knitting and calls her
father or her mother, one of whom comes forward and
sells you what you want, phlegmatically, civilly, or arro¬
gantly, according to his or her individual character,
whether it be a matter of two sous' or twenty thousand
francs' worth of merchandise. You may see a cooper,
for instance, sitting in his doorway and twirling his
thumbs as he talks with a neighbor. To all appearance
he owns nothing more than a few miserable boat-ribs
and two or three bundles of laths ; but below in the port
his teeming wood-yard supplies all the cooperage trade
of Anjou. He knows to a plank how many casks are
needed if the vintage is good. A hot season makes him
rich, a rainy season ruins him ; in a single morning
puncheons worth eleven francs have been known to drop
to six. In this country, as in Touraine, atmospheric
vicissitudes control commercial life. Wine-growers,
proprietors, wood - merchants, coopers, inn-keepers,
mariners, all keep watch of the sun. They tremble when
they go to bed lest they should hear in the morning of
a frost in the night; they dread rain, wind, drought,
and want water, heat, and clouds to suit their fancy.
Eugenie Grandet. 5
A perpetual duel goes on between the heavens and
their terrestrial interests. The barometer smooths,
saddens, or makes merry their countenances, turn and
turn about. From end to end of this street, formerly
the Grand'rue de Saumur, the words: "Here's golden
weather," are passed from door to door; or each man
calls to his neighbor: "It rains louis," knowing well what
a sunbeam or the opportune rainfall is bringing him.
On Saturdays after midday, in the fine season, not
one sou's worth of merchandise can be bought from
these worthy traders. Each has his vineyard, his
enclosure of fields, and all spend two days in the
country. This being foreseen, and purchases, sales, and
profits provided for, the merchants have ten or twelve
hours to spend in parties of pleasure, in making obser¬
vations, in criticisms, and in continual spying. A
housewife cannot buy a partridge without the neigh¬
bors asking the husband if it were cooked to a turn.
A young girl never puts her head near a window that
she is not seen by idling groups in the street. Con¬
sciences are held in the light; and the houses, dark,
silent, impenetrable as they seem, hide no mysteries.
Life is almost wholly in the open air ; every household
sits-at its own threshold, breakfasts, dines, and quarrels
there. No one can pass along the street without being
examined ; in fact formerty, when a stranger entered
a provincial town he was bantered and made game of
G
Eugenie Crrandet.
from door to door. From this came many good stories,
and the nickname copieux, which was applied to the
inhabitants of Angers, who excelled in such urban
sarcasms.
The ancient mansions of the old town of Saumur
are at the top of this hilly street, and were formerly
occupied by the nobility of the neighborhood. The
melancholy dwelling where the events of the following
history took place is one of these mansions, —venerable
relics of a century in which men and things bore the
characteristics of simplicity which French manners and
customs are losing day by da}'. Follow the windings
of the picturesque thoroughfare, whose irregularities
awaken recollections that plunge the mind mechanically
into revery, and you will see a somewhat dark recess,
in the centre of which is hidden the door of the house
of Monsieur Grandet. It is impossible to understand
the force of this provincial expression — the house of
Monsieur Grandet — without giving the biography of
Monsieur Grandet himself.
Monsieur Grandet enjoyed a reputation in Saumur
whose causes and effects can never be fully understood
by those who have not, at one time or another, lived
in the provinces. In 1789 Monsieur Grandet — still
called by certain persons le Pere Grandet, though the
number of such old persons has perceptibly diminished
— was a master-cooper, able to read, write, and cipher.
Eugenie Grandet.
7
At the period when the French Republic offered for
sale the church property in the arrondissemenUof Sau-
mur, the cooper, then forty years of age, had just mar¬
ried the daughter of a rich wood-merchant. Supplied
with the ready money of his own fortune and his wife's
dot, in all about two thousand louis-cl'or, Grandet went
to the newly established " district," where, with the help
of two hundred double louis given by his father-in-law
to the surly republican who presided over the sales of
the national domain, he obtained for a song, legally
if not legitimately, one of the finest vineyards in the
arrondissement, an old abbe}*, and several farms. The
inhabitants of Saumur were so little revolutionary that
they thought Pere Grandet a bold man, a republican, and
a patriot with a mind open to all the new ideas ; though
in point of fact it was open only to vineyards. He was
appointed a member of the administration of Saumur,
and his pacific influence made itself felt politically and
commercially. Politically, he protected the ci-devant
nobles, and prevented, to the extent of his power, the
sale of the lands and property of the emigres-, com¬
mercially, he furnished the Republican armies with two
or three thousand puncheons of white wine, and took
his pay in splendid fields belonging to a community of
women whose lands had been reserved for the last lot.
Under the Consulate Grandet became mayor, gov¬
erned wisely, and harvested still better pickings.
Eugenie Grandet.
Under the Empire he was called Monsieur Grandet.
Napoleon, however, did not like republicans, and su¬
perseded Monsieur Grandet (who was supposed to have
worn the Phrygian cap) by a man of his own surround¬
ings, a future baron of the Empire. Monsieur Grandet
quitted office without regret. He had constructed in
the interests of the town certain fine roads which led to
his own property; his house and lands, very advan¬
tageously assessed, paid moderate taxes ; and since the
registration of his various estates, the vineyards, thanks
to his constant care, had become the "head of the
countiy," — a local term used to denote those that pro¬
duced" the finest quality of wine. He might have asked
for the cross of the Legion of honor.
This event occurred in 1806. Monsieur Grandet was
then fifty-seven years of age, his wife thirty-six, and an
only daughter, the fruit of their legitimate love, was
ten years old. Monsieur Grandet, whom Providence
no doubt desired to compensate for the loss of his
municipal honors, inherited three fortunes in the course
of this year,—that of Madame de la Gaudiniere, born
de la Bertelliere, the mother of Madame Grandet; that
of old Monsieur de la Bertelliere, her grandfather ; and,
lastly, that of Madame Gentillet, her grandmother 011
the mother's side: three inheritances, whose amount
was not known to any one. The avarice of the de¬
ceased persons was so keen that for a long time they
Eugenie Grandet.
9
had hoarded their money for the pleasure of secretly
looking at it. Old Monsieur de la Bertelliere called an
investment an extravagance, and thought he got better
interest from the sight of his gold than from the profits
of usury. The inhabitants of Saumur consequently
estimated his savings according to "the revenues of
the sun's wealth," as the}' said.
Monsieur Grandet thus obtained that modern title of
nobility which our mania for equality can never rub out.
He became the most imposing personage in the arron-
dissement. He worked a hundred acres of vineyard,
which in fruitful years yielded seven or eight hundred
hogsheads of wine. He owned thirteen farms, an old
abbey, whose windows and arches he had walled up for
the sake of economy,— a measure which preserved them,
— also a hundred and twenty-seven acres of meadow-
land, where three thousand poplars, planted in 1793,
grew and flourished; and finally, the house in which
he lived. Such was his visible estate ; as to his other
property, only two persons could give even a vague
guess at its value: one was Monsieur Cruchot, a
notary employed in the usurious investments of Mon¬
sieur Grandet; the other was Monsieur des Grassins,
the richest banker in Saumur, in whose profits Grandet
had a certain covenanted and secret share.
Although old Cruchot and Monsieur des Grassins
were both gifted with the deep discretion which wealth
10 Eugenie Grrandet.
ancl trust beget in the provinces, they publicly testified
so much respect to Monsieur Grandet that observers
estimated the amount of his property by the obsequi¬
ous attention which they bestowed upon him. In all
Saumur there was no one not persuaded that Monsieur
Grandet had a private treasure, some hiding-place full
of louis, where he nightly took ineffable delight in
gazing upon great masses of gold. Avaricious people
gathered proof of this when they looked at the 03-0s of
the good man, to which the 3'ellow metal seemed to
have conveyed its tints. The glance of a man ac¬
customed to draw enormous interest from his capital
acquires, like that of the libertine, the gambler, or the
s3rcophant, certain indefinable habits, — furtive, eager,
rnysterious movements, which never escape the notice
of his co-religionists. This secret language is in a cer¬
tain way the freemasonry of the passions. Monsieur
Grandet inspired the respectful esteem due to one who
owed no man aiyything, who, skilful cooper and expe¬
rienced wine-grower that he was, guessed with the
precision of an astronomer whether he ought to manu¬
facture a thousand puncheons for his vintage or only
five hundred, who never failed in am' speculation, and
always had casks for sale when casks were worth more
than the commodit}' that filled them, who could store
his whole vintage in his cellars and bide his time to
put the puncheons on the market at two hundred
jEugSnie Grandet.
11
francs, when the little proprietors had been forced to
sell theirs for five louis. His famous vintage of 1811,
judiciously stored and slowly disposed of, brought
him in more than two hundred and forty thousand
francs.
Financially speaking, Monsieur Grandet was some¬
thing between a tiger and a boa-constrictor. He could
crouch and lie low, watch his prey a long while, spring
upon it, open his jaws, swallow a mass of louis, and
then rest tranquilly like a snake in process of digestion,
impassible, methodical, and cold. No one saw him pass
without a feeling of admiration mingled with respect
and fear; had not every man in Saumur felt the rending
of those polished steel claws? For this one, Maitre
Cruchot had procured the money required for the pur¬
chase of a domain, but at eleven per cent. For that
one, Monsieur des Grassins discounted bills of ex¬
change, but at a frightful deduction of interest. Few
clays ever passed that Monsieur Grandet's lxame was
not mentioned either in the markets or in social conver¬
sations at the evening gatherings. To some the fortune
of the old Vine-grower was an object of patriotic pride.
More than one merchant, more than one innkeeper,
said to strangers with a certain complacency: "Mon¬
sieur, we have two-or three millionnaire establishments ;
but as for Monsieur Grandet, he does not himself know
how much he is worth."
12 Eugenie Crrandet.
In 1816 the best reckoners in Saumur estimated the
landed property of the worthy man at nearly four mil¬
lions ; but as, on an average, he had made yearly, from
1793 to 1817, a hundred thousand francs out of that
property, it was fair to presume that he possessed in
actual money a sum nearly equal to the value of his
estate. So that when, after a game at boston or an
evening discussion on the matter of vines, the talk fell
upon Monsieur Grandet, knowing people said: " Le
Pere Grandet ? le Pere Grandet must have at least
five or six millions."
"You are cleverer than I am; I have never been
able to find out the amount," answered Monsieur Cru-
chot or Monsieur des Grassins, when either chanced
to overhear the remark.
If some Parisian mentioned Rothschild or Monsieur
Lafitte, the people of Saumur asked if he were as
rich as Monsieur Grandet. When the Parisian, with a
smile, tossed them a disdainful affirmative, they looked
at each other and shook their heads with an incredulous
air. So large a fortune covered with a golden mantle
all the actions of this man. If in early days some
peculiarities of his life gave occasion for laughter or
ridicule, laughter and ridicule had long died aw a}-. His
least important actions had the authority of results re¬
peatedly shown. His speech, his clothing, his gestures,
the blinking of his eyes, were law to the country-side,
Eugenie Grandet.
13
where every one, after studying him as a naturalist
studies the result of instinct in the lower animals,
had come to understand the deep mute wisdom of his
slightest actions.
"It will be a hard winter," said one ; " Pere Grandet
has put on his fur gloves."
'' Pere Grandet is buying quantities of staves ; there
will be plenty of wine to year."
Monsieur Grandet never bought either bread or meat.
His farmers supplied him weekly with a sufficiency of
capons, chickens, eggs, butter, and his tithe of wheat.
He owned a mill; and the tenant was bound, over and
above his rent, to take a Certain quantity of grain and
return him the flour and bran. La Grande Nanon, his
only servant, though she was no longer young, baked
the bread of the household herself every Saturday.
Monsieur Grandet arranged with kitchen-gardeners who
were his tenants to supply him with vegetables. As
to fruits, he gathered such quantities that he sold the
greater part in the market. His fire-wood was cut from
his own hedgerows or taken from the half-rotten old
sheds which he built at the corners of his fields, and
whose planks the farmers carted into town for him, all
cut up, and obligingly stacked in his wood-house, re¬
ceiving in return his thanks. His only known expendi¬
tures were for the consecrated bread, the clothing of
his wife and daughter, the hire of their chairs in church,
2
14 EugSnie Grandet.
the wages of la Grande Nanou, the tinning of the
saucepans, lights, taxes, repairs on his buildings, and
the costs of his various industries. He had six hun¬
dred acres of woodland, lately purchased, which he
induced a neighbor's keeper to watch, under the prom¬
ise of an indemnity. After the acquisition of this
property he ate game for the first time.
Monsieur Grandet's manners were very simple. He
spoke little. He usually expressed his meaning by
short sententious phrases uttered in a soft voice. After
the Revolution, the epoch at which he first came into
notice, the good man stuttered in a wearisome way as
soon as he was required to speak at length or to main¬
tain an argument. This stammering, the incoherence
of his language, the flux of words in which he drowned
his thought, his apparent lack of logic, attributed to
defects of education, were in reality assumed, and will
be sufficiently explained by certain events in the fol¬
lowing history. Four sentences, precise as algebraic
formulas, sufficed him usually to grasp and solve all
difficulties of life and commerce: "I don't know;
I cannot; I will not; I will see about it." He never
said yes, or no, and never committed himself to
writing. If people talked to him he listened coldly,
holding his chin in his right hand and resting his right
elbow on the back of his left hand, forming in his own
mind opinions on all matters, from which he never
Eugenie Grandet. 15
receded. He reflected long before making any business
agreement. When his opponent, after careful conver¬
sation, avowed the secret of his own purposes, confi¬
dent that he had secured his listener's assent, Grandet
answered: "I can decide nothing without consulting
my wife." His wife, whom he had reduced to a state
of helpless slavery, was a useful screen to him in busi¬
ness. He went nowhere among friends; he neither
gave nor accepted dinners ; he made no stir or noise,
seeming to economize in everything, even movement.
He never disturbed or disarranged the things of other
people, out of respect for the rights of property. Never¬
theless, in spite of his soft voice, in spite of his cir¬
cumspect bearing, the language and habits of a coarse
nature came to the surface, especially in his own home,
where he controlled himself less than elsewhere.
Physically, Grandet was a man five feet high, thick¬
set, square-built, with calves twelve inches in circum¬
ference, knotted knee-joints, and broad shoulders; his
face was round, tanned, and pitted by the small-pox;
his chin was straight, his lips had no curves, his teeth
were white ; his eyes had that calm, devouring expres¬
sion which people attribute to the basilisk; his fore¬
head, full of transverse wrinkles, was not without
certain significant protuberances; his 3-ellow-grayisli
hair was said to be silver and gold by certain young
people who did not realize the impropriety of making
16
Eugenie Crrandet.
a jest about Monsieur Grandet. His nose, thick at
the end, bore a veined wen, which the common people
said, not without reason, was full of malice. The
whole countenance showed a dangerous cunning, an
integrity without warmth, the egotism of a man long
used to concentrate every feeling upon the enjoyments
of avarice and upon the only human being who was
anything whatever to him, — his daughter and sole
heiress, Eugenie. Attitude, manners, bearing, eveiy-
thing about him, in short, testified to that belief in
himself which the habit of succeeding in all enterprises
never fails to give to a man.
Thus, though his manners were unctuous and soft
outwardly, Monsieur Grandet's nature was of iron.
His dress never varied ; and those who saw him to-day
saw him such as he had been since 1791. His stout
shoes were tied with leathern thongs; he wore, in all
weathers, thick woollen stockings, short breeches of
coarse maroon cloth with silver buckles, a velvet waist¬
coat, in alternate stripes of yellow and puce, buttoned
squarely, a large maroon coat with wide flaps, a black
cravat, and a quaker's hat. His gloves, thick as
those of a gendarme, lasted him twenty months; to
preserve them, he always laid them methodically on
the brim of his hat in one particular spot. Saumur
knew nothing further about this personage.
Onlj' six individuals had a right of entrance to
Eugenie Grandet. 17
Monsieur Grandet's house. The most important of
the first three was a nephew of Monsieur Cruchot.
Since his appointment as president of the Civil courts
of Saumur this 3Toung man had added the name of
Bonfons to that of Cruchot. He now signed himself
C. de Bonfons. Any litigant so ill-advised as to call
him Monsieur Cruchot would soon be made to feel his
folly in court. The magistrate protected those who
called him Monsieur le president, but he favored with
gracious smiles those who addressed him as Monsieur
de Bonfons. Monsieur le president was thirty-three
years old, and possessed the estate of Bonfons (Boni
Fontis), worth seven thousand francs a 3rear; he ex¬
pected to inherit the property of his uncle the notary
and that of another uncle, the Abbe Cruchot, a dig¬
nitary of the chapter of Saint-Martin de Tours, both
of whom were thought to be very rich. These three
Cruchots, backed by a goodly number of cousins, and
allied to twenty families in the town, formed a party,
like the Medici in Florence; like the Medici, the
Cruchots had their Pazzi.
Madame des Grassins, mother of a son twenty-three
3'ears of age, came assiduousty to pla3T cards with*
Madame Grandet, hoping to marry her dear Adolphe
to Mademoiselle Eugenie-. Monsieur des Grassins, tlie
banker, vigorousty promoted the schemes of his wife by
means of secret services constantly rendered to the
18 Eugenie Gtrandet.
old miser, and always arrived in time upon the field
of battle. The three des Grassins likewise had their
adherents, their cousins, their faithful allies. On the
Cruchot side the abbe, the Talleyrand of the family,
well backed-up by his brother the notary, sharply con¬
tested every inch of ground with his female adversary,
and tried to obtain the rich heiress for his nephew the
president.
This secret warfare between the Cruclrots and the des
Grassins, the prize thereof being the hand in marriage
of Eugenie Grandet, kept the various social circles of
Saumur in violent agitation. Would Mademoiselle
Grandet marry Monsieur le president or Monsieur
Adolphe des Grassins ? To this problem some replied
that Monsieur Grandet would never give his daughter to
the one or to the other. The old cooper, eaten up with
ambition, was looking, they said, for a peer of France,
to whom an income of three hundred thousand francs
would make all the past, present, and future casks of
the Grandets acceptable. Others replied that Mon¬
sieur and Madame des Grassins were nobles, and
exceedingly rich ; that Adolphe was a personable young
fellow; and that unless the old man had a nephew of
the pope at his beck and call, such a suitable alliance
ought to satisfy a man who came from nothing, — a
man whom Saumur remembered with an adze in his
hand, and who had, moreover, worn the bonnet rouge.
Euginie Grandet. 19
Certain wise heads called attention to the fact that
Monsieur Cruchot de Bonfons had the right of entry
to the house at all times, whereas his rival was received
oul}' on Sunday's. Others, however, maintained that
Madame des Grassins was more intimate with the
women of the house of Grandet than the Cruchots were,
and could put into their minds certain ideas which
would lead, sooner or later, to success. To this the
former retorted that the Abbe Cruchot was the most
insinuating man in the world: pit a woman against
a monk, and the struggle was even. " It is diamond
cut diamond," said a Saumur wit.
The oldest inhabitants, wiser than their fellows,
declared that the Grandets knew better than to let the
property go out of the family, and that Mademoiselle
Eugenie Grandet of Saumur would be married to the
son of Monsieur Grandet of Paris, a wealth}^ wholesale
wine-merchant. To this the Cruchotines and the Gras-
sinists replied: "In the first place, the two brothers
have seen each other only twice in thirty years ; and
next, Monsieur Grandet of Paris has ambitious designs
for his son. He is ma}'or of an arrondissement, a
deput\*, colonel of the National Guard, judge in the
commercial courts ; he disowns the Grandets of Saumur,
and means to ally himself Avitli some ducal family, —
ducal under favor of Napoleon." In short, Avas there
anything not said of an heiress who Avas talked oP
20 Eugenie Crrandet.
through a circumference of fifty miles, and even in the
public conveyances from Angers to Blois, inclusively !
At the beginning of 1811, the Cruchotines won a sig¬
nal advantage over the Grassinists. The estate of Froid-
fond, remarkable for its park, its mansion, its farms,
streams, ponds, forests, and worth about three millions,
was put up for sale by the young Marquis de Froidfond,
who was obliged to liquidate his possessions. Maitre
Cruchot, the president, and the abbe, aided by their
adherents, were able to prevent the sale of the estate
in little lots. The notary concluded a bargain with
the young man for the whole property, payable in gold,
persuading him that suits without number would have
to be brought against the purchasers of small lots
before he could get the money for them ; it was better,
therefore, to sell the whole to Monsieur Graudet, who
was solvent and able to pay for the estate in ready
money. The fine marquisate of Froidfond was accord-
ingly conveyed down the gullet of Monsieur Grandet,
who, to the great astonishment of Saumur, paid for it,
under proper discount, with the usual formalities.
This affair echoed from Nantes to Orleans. Monsieur
Grandet took advantage of a cart returning by way
of Froidfond to go and see his chateau. Having cast
a master's eye over the whole property, he returned
to Saumur, satisfied that he had invested his money
at five per cent, and seized by the stupendous thought
Eugenie Grandet.
21
of extending and increasing the marquisate of Froid-
fond by concentrating all his property there. Then,
to fill up his coffers, now nearly empty, he resolved to
thin out his woods and his forests, and to sell off the
poplars in the meadows.
22
Eugenie Qrandet.
II.
It is now easy to understand the full meaning of
the term, " the house of Monsieur Grandet," —
that cold, silent, pallid dwelling, standing above the
town and sheltered by the ruins of the ramparts.
The two pillars and the areh, which made the porte-
cochere on which the door opened, were built, like the
house itself, of tufa, — a white stone peculiar to the
shores of the Loire, and so soft that it lasts hardly
more than two centuries. Numberless irregular holes,
capriciously bored or eaten out by the inclemency of
the weather, gave an appearance of the vermiculated
stonework of French architecture to the arch and the
side walls of this entrance, which bore some resem¬
blance to the gateway of a jail. Above the arch was
a long bas-relief, in hard stone, representing the four
seasons, the faces ahead}' crumbling away and black¬
ened. This bas-relief was surmounted by a projecting
plinth, upon which a variety of chance growths had
sprung up,—yellow pellitory, bindweed, convolvuli,
nettles, plantain, and even a little cherry-tree, already
grown to some height.
Eugenie Gcrandet.
23
The door of the archway was made of solid oak,
brown, shrunken, and split in many places; though
frail in appearance, it was firmly held in place by a
system of iron bolts arranged in symmetrical patterns.
A small square grating, with close bars red with rust,
filled up the middle panel and made, as it were, a
motive for the knocker, fastened to it by a ring, which
struck upon the grinning head of a huge nail. This
knocker, of the oblong shape and kind which our an¬
cestors called jaquemart, looked like a huge note of
exclamation ; an antiquary who examined it attentively
might have found indications of the figure, essentially
burlesque, which it once represented, and which long
usage had now effaced. Through this little grating —
intended in olden times for the recognition of friends
in times of civil war — inquisitive persons could per¬
ceive, at the farther end of the dark and slimy vault,
a few broken steps which led to a garden, picturesquely
shut in by walls that were thick and damp, and through
which oozed a moisture that nourished tufts of sickly
herbage. These walls were the ruins of the ramparts,
under which ranged the gardens of several neighboring
houses.
The most important room on the ground-floor of the
house was a large hall, entered directly from beneath
the vault of the porte-cochere. Few people know the
importance of a hall in the little towns of Anjon, Ton-
2i Eugenie Grrandet.
raine, and Berry. The hall is at one and the same time
antechamber, salon, office, boudoir, and dining-room ;
it is the theatre of domestic life, the common living-
room. There the barber of the neighborhood came,
twice a year, to cut Monsieur Grandet's hair; there
the farmers, the cure, the under-prefect, and the miller's
boy came on business. This room, with two windows
looking on the street, was entirely of wood. Gray panels
with ancient mouldings covered the walls from top to
bottom; the ceiling showed all its beams, which were
likewise painted gray, while the space between them
had been washed over in white, now yellow with age.
An old brass clock, inlaid with arabesques, adorned the
mantel of the ill-cut white stone chimney-piece, above
which was a greenish mirror, whose edges, bevelled to
show the thickness of the glass, reflected a thread of
light the whole length of a gothic frame in damascened
steel-work. The two copper-gilt candelabra which dec¬
orated the corners of the chimney-piece served a double
purpose : by taking off the side-branches, each of which
held a socket, the main stem — which was fastened to a
pedestal of bluish marble tipped with copper — made a
candlestick for one candle, which was sufficient for or¬
dinary occasions. The chairs, antique in shape, were
covered with tapestry representing the fables of La
Fontaine ; it was necessary, however, to know that
writer well to guess at the subjects, for the faded colors
EugSnie Cfrandet.
25
and the figures, blurred by much darning, were difficult
to distinguish.
At the four corners of the hall were closets, or rather
buffets, surmounted by dirty shelves. An old card-
table in marquetry, of which the upper part was a
chess-board, stood in the space between the two win¬
dows. Above this table was an oval barometer with a
black border enlivened with gilt bands, on which the
flies had so licentiously disported themselves that the
gilding had become problematical. On the panel oppo¬
site to the chimney-piece were two portraits in pastel,
supposed to represent the grandfather of Madame Gran-
clet, old Monsieur cle la Bertelliere, as a lieutenant in
the French guard, and the deceased Madame Gentillet
in the guise of a shepherdess. The windows were
draped with curtains of red gros de Tours held back by
silken cords with ecclesiastical tassels. This luxurious
decoration, little in keeping with the habits of Monsieur
Grandet, had been, together with the steel pier-glass,
the tapestries, and the buffets, which were of rose-wood,
included in the purchase of the house.
By the window nearest to the door stood a straw chair,
whoso legs were raised on castors to lift its occupant,
Madame Grandet, to a height from which she could see
the passers-by. A work-table of stained cherry-wood
filled up the embrasure, and the little armchair of
Eugenie Grandet stood beside it. In this spot the lives
2G Eugenie Grandet.
of mother and daughter had flowed peacefully onward
for fifteen years, in a round of constant work from the
month of April to the month of November. On the
first day of the latter month they took their winter
station by the chimney. Not until that day did Gran¬
de t permit a fire to be lighted; and on the thirty-first
of March it was extinguished, without regard either to
the chills of the early spring or to those of a wintry
autumn. A foot-warmer, filled with embers from the
kitchen fire, which la Grande Nanon contrived to save
for them, enabled Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet
to bear the chilly mornings and evenings of April and
October. Mother and daughter took charge of the
family linen, and spent their days so conscientiously
upon a labor properly that of working-women, that if
Eugenie wished to embroider a collar for her mother
she was forced to take the time from sleep, and deceive
her father to obtain the necessary light. For a long
time the miser had given out the tallow candle to his
daughter and la Grande Nanon just as he gave out
every morning the bread and other necessaries for the
daily consumption.
La Grande Nanon was perhaps the only human being
capable of accepting willingly the despotism of her
master. The whole town envied Monsieur and Madame
Grandet the possession of her. La Grande Nanon, so
called on account of her height, which was five feet
.Eugenie Grandet.
27
eight inches, had lived with Monsieur Grandet for
thirty-five years. Though she received only sixty
francs a year in wages, she was supposed to be one
of the richest serving-women in Saumur. Those sixty
francs, accumulating through thirty-five years, had re¬
cently enabled her to invest four thousand francs in an
annuity with Maitre Cruchot. This result of her long
and persistent econom}^ seemed gigantic. Every ser¬
vant in the town, seeing that the poor sexagenarian was
sure of bread for her old age, was jealous of her, and
never thought of the hard slavery through which it had
been won.
At twenty-two years of age the poor girl had been
unable to find a situation, so repulsive was her face
to almost every one. Yet the feeling was certainly
unjust: the face would have been much admired on the
shoulders of a grenadier of the guard; but all things,
so they say, should be in keeping. Forced to leave a
farm where she kept the cows, because the dwelling-
house was burned down, she came to Saumur to find
a place, full of the robust courage that shrinks from no
labor. Le Pere Grandet was at that time thinking of
marriage and about to set up his household. He espied
the girl, rejected as she was from door to door. A
good judge of corporeal strength in his trade as a
cooper, he guessed the work that might be got out of a
female creature shaped like a Hercules, as firm on her
23
Eugenie Gran del.
feet as an oak sixty j-ears old on its roots, strong in the
hips, square in the back, with the hands of a cartman
and an honesty as sound as her unblemished virtue.
Neither the warts which adorned her martial visage,
nor the red-brick tints of her skin, nor the sinew}7 arms,
nor the ragged garments of la Grande Nanon, dismayed
the cooper, who was at that time still of an age when
the heart shudders. He fed, shod, and clothed the poor
girl, gave her wages, and put her to work without treat¬
ing her too rouglity. Seeing herself thus welcomed, la
Grande Nanon secretly wept tears of joy, and attached
herself in all sincerity to her master, who from that day
ruled her and worked her with feudal authority. Nanon
did everything. She cooked, she made the lye, she
washed the linen in the Loire and brought it home on
her shoulders ; she got up early, she went to bed late;
she prepared the food of the vine-dressers during the
harvest, kept watch upon the market-people, protected
the property of her master like a faithful dog, and
even, full of blind confidence, obeyed without a murmur
his most absurd exactions^
In the famous year of 1811, when the grapes were
gathered with unheard-of difficulty, Grandet resolved
to give Nanon his old watch, — the first present he had
made her during twenty years of service. Though he
turned over to her his old shoes (which fitted her), it is
impossible to consider that quarterly benefit as a gift,
Eugenie Grandet. 29
for tlie shoes were always thoroughly worn-out. Neces¬
sity had made the poor girl so niggardly that Grandet
had grown to love her as we love a dog, and Nanon
had let him fasten a spiked collar round her throat,
whose spikes no longer pricked her. If Grandet cut
the bread with rather too much parsimony, she made
no complaint; she gayly shared the hygienic benefits
derived from the severe regime of the household, in
which no one was ever ill. Nanon was, in fact, one of
the family; she laughed when Grandet laughed, felt
gloomy or chilly, warmed herself, and toiled as he
did. What pleasant compensations there were in such
equality ! Never did the master have occasion to find
fault with the servant for pilfering the grapes, nor
for the plums and nectarines eaten under the trees.
" Come, fall-to, Nanon ! " he would say in years when
the branches bent under the fruit and the farmers
were obliged to give it to the pigs.
To the poor peasant who in her youth had earned
nothing but harsh treatment, to the pauper girl picked
up by charity, Grandet's ambiguous laugh was like a
sunbeam. Moreover, Nanon's simple heart and narrow
head could hold only one feeling and one idea. For
thirty-five years she had never ceased to see herself
standing before the wood-yard of Monsieur Grandet,
ragged and barefooted, and to hear him say: "What
do you want, young one?" Her gratitude was ever
3
30
Eugenie Grandet.
new. Sometimes Grandet, reflecting that the poor
creature had never heard a flattering word, that she
was ignorant of all the tender sentiments inspired by
women, that she might some day appear before the
throne of God even more chaste than the Virgin Mary
herself, — Grandet, struck with pity, would say as he
looked at her, "Poor Nanon! " The exclamation was
always followed by an undefinable look cast upon him
in return by the old servant. The words, uttered from
time to time, formed a chain of friendship that nothing
ever parted, and to which each exclamation added a link.
Such compassion arising in the heart of the miser, and
accepted gratefully by the old spinster, had something
inconceivably horrible about it. This cruel pity, re¬
calling, as it did, a thousand pleasures to the heart of
the old cooper, was for Nanon the sum total of happi¬
ness. Who does not likewise saj7, "Poor Nanon!"
God will recognize his angels by the inflexions of their
voices and by their secret sighs.
There were very many households in Saumur where
the servants were better treated, but where the masters
received far less satisfaction in return. Thus it was
often said: "What have the Grandets ever done to
make their Grande Nanon so attached to them ? She
would go through fire and water for their sake ! " Her
kitchen, whose barred windows looked into the court,
was always clean, neat, cold, —a true miser's kitchen,
Eugenie Grandet.
81
where nothing went to waste. When Nanon had
washed her dishes, locked up the remains of the din¬
ner, and put oat her fire, she left the kitchen, which
was separated by a passage from the living-room, and
went to spin hemp beside her masters. One tallow
candle sufficed the family for the evening. The servant
slept at the end of the passage in a species of closet
lighted only by a fan-light. Her robust health enabled
her to live in this hole with impunity; there she could
hear the slightest noise through the deep silence which
reigned night and day in that dreary house. Like a
watch-dog, she slept with one ear open, and took her
rest with a mind alert.
A description of the other parts of the dwelling will
be found connected with the events of this history,
though the foregoing sketch of the hall, where the
whole luxury of the household appears, may enable
the reader to surmise the nakedness of the upper
floors.
In 1819, at the beginning of an evening in the mid¬
dle of November, la Grande Nanon lighted the fire
for the first time. The autumn had been very fine.
This particular day was a fete-day well known to the
Cruchotines and the Grassinists. The six antagonists,
armed at all points, were making ready to meet at
the Grandets and surpass each other in testimonials
of friendship. That morning all Saumur had seen
32 Eugenie Grandet.
Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet, accompanied by
Nanon, on their way to hear Mass at the parish
church, and every one remembered that the day was
the anniversary of Mademoiselle Eugenie's birth.
Calculating the hour at which the family dinner would
be over, Maitre Cruchot, the Abbe Cruchot, and Mon¬
sieur C. de Bonfons hastened to arrive before the
des Grassins, and be the first to pay their compliments
to Mademoiselle Eugenie. All three brought enormous
bouquets, gathered in their little green-houses. The
stalks of the flowers which the president intended to
present were ingeniously wound round with a white
satin ribbon adorned with gold fringe. In the morn¬
ing Monsieur Grandet, following his usual custom on
the daj's that commemorated the birth and the fete of
Eugenie, went to her bedside and solemnly presented her
with his paternal gift, —which for the last thirteen years
had consisted regularly of a curious gold-piece. Madame
Grandet gave her daughter a winter dress or a summer
dress, as the case might be. These two dresses and the
gold-pieces, of which she received two others on New
Year's day and on her father's fete-day, gave Eugenie a
little revenue of a hundred crowns or thereabout, which
Grandet loved to sec her amass. "Was it not putting
his money from one strong-box into another, and, as it
were, training the parsimony of his heiress? from whom
he sometimes demanded an account of her treasure
EvgSnie Grandet. 83
(formerly increased by the gifts of the Bertellieres),
saying: "It is to lie your marriage dozen."
The "marriage dozen" is an old custom sacredly
preserved and still in force in many parts of central
France. In Berry and in Anjou, when a 3"oung girl
marries, her family, or that of the husband, must give
her a purse, in which they place, according to their
means, twelve pieces, or twelve dozen pieces, or
twelve hundred pieces of gold. The poorest sliepherd-
girl never marries without her "dozen," be it only
a dozen coppers. They still tell in Issoudun of a
certain "dozen" presented to a rich heiress, which
contained a hundred and forty-four gortugaises d'or.
Pope Clement VII., uncle of Catherine de' Medici,
gave her when he married her to Henri II. a dozen
antique gold medals of priceless value.
During dinner the father, delighted to see his Eu¬
genie looking well in a new gown, exclaimed: "As it
is Eugenie's birthday let us have a fire; it will be a
good omen."
"Mademoiselle will be married this year, that's
certain," said la Grande Nanon, carrying away
the remains of the goose, — the pheasant of trades¬
men.
"I don't see any one suitable for her in Saumur,"
said Madame Grandet, glancing at her husband with
a timid look which, considering her years, revealed
34 Eugenie Grandet.
the conjugal slavery under which the poor woman
languished.
Grandet looked at his daughter and exclaimed
g^yly, —
" She is twenty-three years old to-day, the child ; we
must soon begin to think of it."
Eugenie and her mother silently exchanged a glance
of intelligence.
Madame Grandet was a dry, thin woman, as yellow
as a quince, awkward, slow, one of those women who
are born to be down-trodden. She had big bones, a
big nose, a big forehead, big eyes, and presented at first
sight a vague resemblance to those mealy fruits that
have neither savor nor succulence. Her teeth were
black and few in number, her mouth was wrinkled, her
chin long and pointed. She was an excellent woman,
a true la Bertelliere. L'abbe Cruchot found occasional
opportunity to tell her that she had not done ill; and
she believed him. Angelic sweetness, the resignation
of an insect tortured by children, a rare piety, a good
heart, an unalterable equanimity of soul, made her
universally pitied and respected. Her husband never
gave her more than six francs at a time for her per¬
sonal expenses. Ridiculous as it may seem, this
woman, who by her own fortune and her various inheri¬
tances brought Pere Grandet more than three hun¬
dred thousand francs, had always felt so profoundly
Eugenie, Grandet,
£5
humiliated by her dependence and the slavery in which
she lived, against which the gentleness of her spirit
prevented her from revolting, that she had never asked
for one penny or made a single remark on the deeds
which Maitre Cruchot brought for her signature. This
foolish secret pride, this nobility of soul perpetually
misunderstood and wounded by Grandet, ruled the
whole conduct of the wife.
Madame Grandet was attired habitually in a gown
of greenish levantine silk, endeavoring to make it last
nearly a year ; with it she wore a large kerchief of white
cotton cloth, a bonnet made of plaited straws sewn to¬
gether, and almost always a black-silk apron. As she
seldom left the house she wore out very few shoes. She
never asked anything for herself. Grandet, seized with
occasional remorse when he remembered how long a
time had elapsed since he gave her the last six francs,
always stipulated for the "wife's pin-money" when he
sold his yearly vintage. The four or five louis pre¬
sented by the Belgian or the Dutchman who purchased
the wine were the chief visible signs of Madame Gran-
det's annual revenues. But after she had received the
five louis, her husband would often say to her, as though
their purse were held in common: "Can 3-011 lend
me a few sous?" and the poor woman, glad to be
able to do something for a man whom her confessor
held up to her as her lord and master, returned him in
CO Eugenie Grandet.
the course of the winter several crowns out of the
'' pin-money." When Grandet drew from his pocket
"the five-franc piece which he allowed monthly for the
minor expenses, —thread, needles, and toilet, — of his
daughter, he never failed to say as he buttoned his
breeches' pocket " And you, mother, do you want
anything ?"
'' My friend," Madame Grandet would answer, moved
b}T a sense of maternal dignity, "we will see about
that later."
Wasted clignhy ! Grandet thought himself very
generous to his wife. Philosophers who meet the like
of Nanon, of Madame Grandet, of Eugenie, have surely
a right to say that irony is at the bottom of the ways
of Providence.
After the dinner at which for the first time allusion
had been made to Eugenie's marriage, Nanon went to
fetch a bottle of black-currant ratafia from Monsieur
Grandet's bed-chamber, and nearly fell as she came
clown the stairs.
"You great stupid!" said her master; "are you
going to tumble about like other people, hey?"
"Monsieur, it was that step on your staircase which
has given wa}r."
"She is right," said Madame Grandet; " it ought
to have been mended long ago. Yesterday Eugenie
nearly twisted her ankle."
Eugenie Cfrandet. 87
" Here," said Grandet to Nanon, seeing that she
looked quite pale, " as it is Eugenie's birthday, and you
came near falling, take a little glass of ratafia to set
you right."
" Faith ! I've earned it," said Nanon ; " most people
would have broken the bottle; but I'd sooner have
broken my elbow holding it up high."
"Poor Nanon ! " said Grandet, filling a glass.
"Did you hurt yourself?" asked Eugenie, looking
kindly at her.
"No, I didn't fall; I threw myself back on my
liaunches."
"Well! as it's Eugenie's birthday," said Grandet,
"I'll have the step mended. You people don't know
how to set your foot in the corner where the wood is
still firm."
Grandet took the candle, leaving his wife, daugh¬
ter, and servant without any other light than that
from the hearth, where the flames were lively, and
went into the bakehouse to fetch planks, nails, and
tools.
" Can I help you? " cried Nanon, hearing him ham¬
mer on the stairs.
"No, no! I'm an old hand at it," answered the
former cooper.
At the moment when Grandet was mending his
worm-eaten staircase and whistling with all his might,
88
Eugenie Grandet.
ia remembrance of the days of his youth, the three
Cruchots knocked at the door.
"Is it you, Monsieur Cruchot?" asked Nanon,
peeping through the little grating.
"Yes," answered the president.
Nanon opened the door, and the light from the
hearth, reflected on the ceiling, enabled the three
Cruchots to find their way into the room.
"Ha! you've come a-greeting," said Nanon, smell¬
ing the flowers.
"Excuse me, messieurs," cried Grandet, recognizing
their voices; "I'll be with you in a moment. I'm
not proud ; I am patching up a step on my staircase."
"Go on, go on, Monsieur Grandet; a man's house
is his castle," said the president sententiously.
Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet rose. The
president, profiting by the darkness, said to Eugenie :
" Will 3'ou permit me, mademoiselle, to wish you,
on this the day of your birth, a series of happy years
and the continuance of the health which you now
enjoy ? "
He offered her a huge bouquet of choice flowers
which were rare in Saumur; then, taking the heiress
by the elbows, he kissed her on each side of her neck
with a complacency that made her blush. The presi¬
dent, who looked like a rusty iron nail, felt that his
courtship was progressing.
EvgGnie Grandet.
89
" Don't stand on ceremony," said Grandet, entering.
" How well j-ou do things on fete-days, Monsieur le
president! "
" When it concerns mademoiselle," said the abbe,
armed with his own bouquet, " every day is a fete-day
for my nephew."
The abbe kissed Eugenie's hand. As for Maitre
Cruchot, he boldly kissed her on both cheeks, remark¬
ing: " How we sprout up, to be sure ! Every year is
twelve months."
As he replaced the candlestick beside the clock,
Grandet, who never forgot his own jokes, and re¬
peated them to satiety when he thought them funn}T,
said, —
"As this is Eugenie's birthday let us illuminate."
He carefully took off the branches of the candelabra,
put a socket on each pedestal, took from Nanon a
new tallow candle with paper twisted round the end
of it, put it into the hollow, made it firm, lit it, and
then sat clown beside his wife, looking alternately at
his friends, his daughter, and the two candles. The
Abbe Cruchot, a plump, puffy little man, with a red
wig plastered down and a face like an old female
gambler, said as he stretched out his feet, well shod
in stout shoes with silver buckles : " The ties Grassins
have not come ? "
" Xot yet," said Grandet.
40 Eugenie Grandet.
"But are they coming?" asked the old notary,
twisting his face, which had as many holes as a col¬
ander, into a queer grimace.
" I think so," answered Madame Grandet.
4' Are your vintages all finished ? " said Monsieur de
Bonfons to Grandet.
"Yes, all of them," answered the old man, rising
to walk up and down the room, his chest swelling
with pride as he said the words "all of them."
Through the door of the passage which led to the
kitchen he" saw la Grande Nanon sitting beside her
fire with a candle and preparing to spin there, so as
not to intrude among the guests.
"Nanon," he said, going into the passage, "put
out that fire and that candle, and come and sit with us.
Pardieu ! the hall is big enough for all."
" But, monsieur, you are to have the great people."
4' Are not j-ou as good as the}* ? The}7 are descended
from Adam, and so are you."
Grandet came back to the president and said, —
44 Have you sold your vintage?"
"No, not I; I shall keep it. If the wine is good
this year, it will be better two years hence. The pro¬
prietors, you know, have made an agreement to keep
up the price ; and this year the Belgians won't get
the better of us. Suppose they are sent off empty-
handed for once, faith! they '11 come back."
Eugenie Grandet.
41
"Yes, but let us mind what we are about," said
Grandet in a tone which made the president tremble.
"Is he driving some bargain?" thought Cruchot.
At this moment the knocker announced the des Gras-
sins family, and their arrival interrupted a conversation
which had begun between Madame Grandet and the abbe.
Madame des Grassins was one of those lively, plump
little women, with pink-and-white skins, who, thanks to
the claustral calm of the provinces and the habits of a
virtuous life, keep their youth until they are past forty.
She was like the last rose of autumn, — pleasant to the
eye, though the petals have a certain frostiness, and
their perfume is slight. She dressed well, got her fash¬
ions from Paris, set the tone to Saumur, and gave par¬
ties. Her husband, formerly a quartermaster in the
Imperial guard, who had been desperately wounded at
Austerlitz, and had since retired, still retained, in spite
of his respect for Grandet, the seeming frankness of
an old soldier.
"Good evening, Grandet," he said, holding out
his hand and affecting a sort of superiority, with
which he always crushed the Cruchots. "Made¬
moiselle," he added, turning to Eugenie, after bow¬
ing to Madame Grandet, "3*011 are alwa}'S beautiful
and good, and truly I do not know what to wish
you." So sa}*ing, he offered her a little box which
his servant had brought and which contained a Cape
42 Eugenie Girandet.
heather, — a flower lately imported into Europe and
very rare.
Madame des Grassins kissed Eugenie very affection¬
ately, pressed her hand, and said: " Adolphe wishes to
make you my little offering."
A tall, blond young man, pale and slight, with toler¬
able manners and seemingly rather shy, although he had
just spent eight or ten thousand francs over and above
his allowance in Paris, where he had been sent to study
law, now came forward and kissed Eugenie on both
cheeks, offering her a workbox with utensils in silver-
gilt, — mere show-case trumpery, in spite of the mono¬
gram E. G. in gothic letters rather well engraved, which
belonged properly to something in better taste. As she
opened it, Eugenie experienced one of those unexpected
and perfect delights which make a young girl blush and
quiver and tremble with pleasure. She turned her eyes
to her father as if to ask permission to accept it, and
Monsieur Grandet replied: "Take it, my daughter,"
in a tone which would have made an actor illustrious.
The three Cruchots felt crushed as they saw the
joyous, animated look cast upon Adolphe des Grassins
by the heiress, to whom such riches were unheard-of.
Monsieur des Grassins offered Grandet a pinch of snuff,
took one himself, shook off the grains as they fell on
the ribbon of the Legion of honor which was attached
to the button-hole of his blue surtout; then he looked at
Eugenie Grandet. 43
the Crucliots with ail air that seemed to say, '' Parry
that thrust if you can!" Madame des Grassius cast
her eyes on the blue vases which held the Cruchot
bouquets, looking at the enemy's gifts with the pre¬
tended interest of a satirical woman. At this delicate
juncture the Abb4 Cruchot left the company seated
in a circle round the fire and joined Grandet at the
lower end of the hall. As the two men reached the
embrasure of the farthest window the priest said in
the miser's ear: '' Those people throw money out of
the windows."
'' What does that matter if it gets into my cellar ? "
retorted the old wine-grower.
"If you want to give gilt scissors to your daughter,
you have the means," said the abbe.
" I give her something better than scissors," answered
Grandet.
"My nephew is a blockhead," thought the abbe as
he looked at the president, whose rumpled hair added to
the ill grace of his brown countenance. " Couldn't he
have found some little trifle which cost money?"
" We will join you at cards, Madame Grandet," said
Madame des Grassins.
" We might have two tables, as we are all here."
"As it is Eugenie's birthday you had better play
loto all together," said Pere Grandet: " the two young
ones can join ; " and the old cooper, who never played
44
Eugenie Grandet.
any game, motioned to liis daughter and Adoiphe.
" Come, Nanon, set the tables."
"We will help 3*011, Mademoiselle Nanon," said
Madame des Grassins gajd}*, quite joj-ous at the jo}7 she
had given Eugenie.
" I have never in my life been so pleased," the heir¬
ess said to her; "I have never seen anything so
pretty."
"Adoiphe brought it from Paris, and he chose it,"
Madame des Grassins whispered in her ear.
" Go on ! go on ! damned intriguing thing! " thought
the president. '' If 3rou ever have a suit in court, 3*011
or 3*our husband, it shall go hard with 3*011."
The notaiy, sitting in his corner, looked calmly at
the abbe, sa3*ing to himself: '' The des Grassins may
do what the3* like; my property and my brother's and
that of my nephew amount in all to eleven hundred
thousand francs. The des Grassins, at the most, have
not half that; besides, the37 have a daughter. They ma37
give what presents the3* like; heiress and presents too
will be ours one of these da3*s."
At half-past eight in the evening the two card-tables
were set out. Madame des Grassins succeeded in put¬
ting her son beside Eugenie. The actors in this scene,
so full of interest, commonplace as it seems, were pro¬
vided with bits of pasteboard striped in maii3* colors
and numbered, and with counters of blue glass, and
Eugenie Cfrandet.
45
they appeared to be listening to the jokes of the notary,
who never drew a number without making a remark,
while in fact they were all thinking of Monsieur Gran-
det's millions. The old cooper, with inward self-conceit,
was contemplating the pink feathers and the fresh toilet
of Madame des Grassins, the martial head of the
banker, the faces of Adolphe, the president, the abbe,
and the notary, saying to himself, —
"They are all after my money. Iley! neither the
one nor the other shall have my daughter; but they
are useful — useful as harpoons to fish with."
This family gayety in the old gray room dimly lighted
by two tallow candles ; this laughter, accompanied by
the whirr of Nanon's spinning-wheel, sincere only upon
the lips of Eugenie or her mother; this triviality* min¬
gled with important interests; this young girl, who,
like certain birds made victims of the price put upon
them, was now lured and trapped by proofs of friend¬
ship of which she was the dupe, — all these thiugs
contributed to make the scene a melancholy comedy.
Is it not, moreover, a drama of all times and all places,
though here brought down to its simplest expression ?
The figure of Grandet, playing his own game with
the false friendship of the two families and getting
enormous profits from it, dominates the scene and
throws light upon it. The modern god, — the only
god iu whom faith is preserved,—money, is here, in
4
4G Eugenie Grandet.
till its power, manifested in a single countenance. The
tender sentiments of life hold here but a secondary
place ; only the three pure, simple hearts of Nanon, of
Eugenie, and of her mother are inspired by them. And
how much of ignorance there was in the simplicity
of these poor women ! Eugenie and her mother knew
nothing of Grandet's wealth; they could only estimate
the things of life b}? the glimmer of their pale ideas,
and they neither valued nor despised money, because
they were accustomed to do without it. Their feelings,
bruised, though they did not know it, but ever-living,
were the secret spring of their existence, and made them
curious exceptions in the midst of these other people
whose lives were purely material. Frightful condition
of the human race! there is no one of its joys that
does not come from some species of ignorance.
At the moment when Madame Grandet had won a
loto of sixteen sous, —the largest ever pooled in that
house, — and while la Grande Nanon was laughing with
delight as she watched madame pocketing her riches,
the knocker resounded on the house-door with such a
noise that the women all jumped in their chairs.
" There is no man in Saumur who would knock like
that," said the notary.
"I-Iow can they bang in that way!1' exclaimed
Nanon; "do they want to break in the door?"
" Who the devil is it?" cried Grandet.
Eugenie Qrandet.
47
III.
Nanon took one of the candles and went to open the
door, followed by her master.
'' Grandet! Grandet!" cried his wife, moved by a
sudden impulse of fear, and running to the door of
the room.
All the players looked at each other.
'' Suppose we all go ? " said Monsieur des Grassins ;
" that knock strikes me as evil-intentioned."
Hardly was Monsieur des Grassins allowed to see
the figure of a young man, accompanied by a porter
from the coach-office carrying two large trunks and
dragging a carpet-bag after him, than Monsieur Grandet
turned roughly on his wife and said, —
'' Madame Grandet, go back to your loto; leave
me to speak with monsieur."
Then he pulled the door quickly to, and the excited
players returned to their seats, but did not continue
the game.
"Is it anyone belonging to Saumur, Monsieur des
Grassins?" asked his wife.
" No, it is a traveller."
48
Eugenie Grrandet.
" He must have come from Paris."
"Just so," said the notary, pulling out his old watch,
which was two inches thick and looked like a Dutch
man-of-war; "it's nine o'clock: the diligence of the
Grand Bureau is never late."
'' Is the gentleman young ?" inquired the Abbe
Cruchot.
" Yes," answered Monsieur des Grassins, " and lie
has brought luggage which must weigh nearly three
tons."
" Nanon does not come back," said Eugenie.
" It must be one of your relations," remarked the
president.
" Let us go 011 with our game," said Madame Gran-
det gently. '' I know from Monsieur Grandet's tone
of voice that he is annoyed; perhaps he would not
like to find us talking of his affairs."
"Mademoiselle," saidAdolphe to his neighbor, "it
is no doubt your cousin Grandet, — a very good-
looking young man; I met him at the ball of Mon¬
sieur de Nuchigen." Adolphe did not go 011, for his
mother trod on his toes; and then, asking him aloud
for two sous to put on her stake, she whispered: " Will
you hold your tongue, you great goose! "
At this moment Grandet returned, without la Grande
Nanon, whose steps, together with those of the porter,
echoed up the staircase; and he was followed by the
Eugenie Grandet. 49
traveller who had excited such curiosity and so filled
the lively imaginations of those present that his arri¬
val at this dwelling, and his sudden fall into the midst
of this assembly, can only be likened to that of a snail
into a beehive, or the introduction of a peacock into
some village poultry-yard.
" Sit down near the fire," said Grandet.
Before seating himself, the young stranger saluted
the assembled company very gracefully. The men rose
to answer by a courteous inclination, and the women
made a ceremonious bow.
" You are cold, no doubt, monsieur," said Madame
Grandet; "you have, perhaps, travelled from — "
"Just like all women!" said the old wine-grower,
looking up from a letter he was reading. '' Do let
monsieur rest himself! "
" But, father, perhaps monsieur would like to take
something," said Eugenie.
" He has got a tongue," said the old man sternly.
The stranger was the only person surprised by this
scene ; all the others were well-used to the despotic
ways of the master. However, after the two ques¬
tions and the two replies had been exchanged, the new¬
comer rose, turned his back towards the fire, lifted one
foot so as to warm the sole of its boot, and said to
Eugenie, —
"Thank you, my cousin, but I dined at Tours.
50 Eugenie Grandet.
And," he added, looking at Grandet, " I need nothing ;
I am not even tired."
"Monsieur has come from the capital?" asked
Madame des Grassins.
Monsieur Charles, — such was the name of the son
of Monsieur Grandet of Paris,—hearing himself ad¬
dressed, took a little eye-glass, suspended by a chain
from his neck, applied it to his right eye to examine
what was on the table, and also the persons sitting-
round it. He ogled Madame des Grassins with much
impertinence, and said to her, after he had observed all
he wished, —
"Yes, madame. You are playing at loto, aunt," he
added. "Do not let me interrupt you, I beg; go on
with your game : it is too amusing to leave."
" I was certain it was the cousin," thought Madame
des Grassins, casting repeated glances at him.
"Forty-seven!" cried the old abbe. "Mark it
down, Madame des Grassins. Is n't that your num¬
ber?"
Monsieur des Grassins put a counter on his wife's
card, who sat watching first the cousin from Paris and
then Eugenie, without thinking of her loto, a prey to
mournful presentiments. From time to time the young
heiress glanced furtively at her cousin, and the bank¬
er's wife easil}' detected a crescendo of surprise and
curiosity in her mind.
EugSnie Grandet, 51
Monsieur Charles Grandet, a handsome young man
of twenty-two, presented at this moment a singular
contrast to the worthy provincials, who, considerably
disgusted by his aristocratic manners, were all studying
him with sarcastic intent. Thisj needs an explanation.
At twenty-two, young people are still so near childhood
that they often conduct themselves childishly. In all
probability, out of every hundred of them fully ninety-
nine would have behaved precisely as Monsieur Charles
Grandet was now behaving.
Some days earlier than this his father had told him to
go and spend several months with his uncle at Saumur.
Perhaps Monsieur Grandet was thinking of Eugenie.
Charles, sent for the first time in his life into the prov¬
inces, took a fancy to make his appearance with the
superiority of a man of fashion, to reduce the whole
arrondissement to despair by his luxury, and to make
his visit an epoch, importing into those country regions
all the refinements of Parisian life. In short, to ex¬
plain it in one word, he meant to pass more time at
Saumur in brushing his nails than he ever thought of
doing in Paris, and to assume the extreme nicety and
elegance of dress which a young man of fashion often
la}'S aside for a certain negligence which in itself is not
devoid of grace. Charles therefore brought with him
a complete hunting-costume, the finest gun, the best
hunting-knife in the prettiest sheath to be found in all
52 Eugenie Crrandet.
Paris. He brought his whole collection of waistcoats.
They were of all kinds, —gray, black, white, scarabseus-
colored: some were shot with gold, some spangled,
some chined/ some were double-breasted and crossed
like a shawl, others were straight in the collar; some
had turned-over collars, some buttoned up to the top
with gilt buttons. He brought every variety of collar
and cravat in fashion at that epoch. He brought two
of Buisson's coats and all his finest linen. He brought
his pretty gold toilet-set, — a present from his mother.
He brought all his dandy knick-knacks, not forget¬
ting a ravishing little desk presented to him by the
most amiable of women, — amiable for him, at least, —
a fine lady whom he called Annette and who at this
moment was travelling, matrimonially and wearieclly,
in Scotland, a victim to certain suspicions which re¬
quired a passing sacrifice of happiness; in the desk
was much pretty note-paper on which to write to her
once a fortnight.
In short, it wras as complete a cargo of Parisian fri¬
volities as it was possible for him to get together, — a col¬
lection of all the implements of husbandry with which
the youth of leisure tills his life, from the little whip
which helps to begin a duel, to the handsomely chased
pistols wrhich end it. His father having told him to
travel alone and modestly, he had taken the coupe of
the diligence all to himself, rather pleased not to dam-
Eugenie Crrandet.
53
ago a delightful travelling-carriage ordered for a jour¬
ney on which he was to meet his Annette, the great
lady who, etc., —whom he intended to rejoin at Baden
in the following June. Charles expected to meet scores
of people at his uncle's house, to hunt in his uncle's
forests, — to.live, in short, the usual chateau life ; he did
not know that his uncle was in Saumur, and had only
inquired about him incidentally when asking the way to
Froidfond. Hearing that he was in town, he supposed
that he should find him in a suitable mansion.
In order that he might make a becoming first appear¬
ance before his uncle either at Saumur or at Froidfond,
he had put on his most elegant travelling attire, simple
yet exquisite, — " adorable," to use the word which in
those days summed up the special perfections of a man
or a thing. At Tours a hairdresser had re-curled his
beautiful chestnut locks ; there he changed his linen and
put on a black satin cravat, which, combined with a round
shirt-collar, framed his fair and smiling countenance
agreeably. A travelling great-coat, only half buttoned
up, nipped in his waist and disclosed a cashmere waist¬
coat crossed in front, beneath which was another waist¬
coat of white material. His watch, negligently slipped
into a pocket, was fastened by a short gold chain to a
buttonhole. His gray trousers, buttoned up at the
sides, were set off at the seams with patterns of black
silk embroideiy. He gracefully twirled a cane, whose
54
EugSnie Grandet.
aliased gold knob did not mar the freshness of his gray
gloves. And to complete all, his cap was in excellent
taste. None but a Parisian, and a Parisian of the up¬
per spheres, could thus array himself without appearing
ridiculous; none other could give the harmony of self-
conceit to all these fopperies, which were carried off,
however, with a dashing air, — the air of a young man
who has fine pistols, a sure aim, and Annette.
Now if you wish to understand the mutual amaze¬
ment of the provincial party and the young Parisian ; if
you would clearly see the brilliance which the traveller's
elegance cast among the gray shadows of the room and
upon the faces of this family group, — endeavor to picture
to your minds the Cruchots. All three took snuff, and
had long ceased to repress the habit of snivelling or to
remove the brown blotches which strewed the frills of
their dingy shirts and the yellowing creases of their
crumpled collars. Their flabby cravats were twisted
into ropes as soon as they wound them about their
throats. The enormous quantity of linen which allowed
these people to have their clothing washed only once
in six, months, and to keep it during that time in the
depths of their closets, also enabled time to lay its grim}-
and decaying stains upon it. There was perfect unison
of ill-grace and senility about them ; their faces, as faded
as their threadbare coats, as creased as their trousers,
were worn-out, shrivelled-up, and puckered. As for the
Eugenie Grandet.
55
others, the general negligence of their dress, which was
incomplete and wanting in freshness, —like the toilet of
all country places, where insensibly people cease to dress
for others and come to think seriously of the price of a
pair of gloves, — was in keeping with the negligence of
the Cruchots. A horror of fashion was the only point
on which the Grassinists and the Cruchotines agreed.
When the Parisian took up his eye-glass to examine
the strange accessories of this dwelling, — the joists of
the ceiling, the color of the woodwork, and the specks
which the flies had left there in sufficient number to
punctuate the " Moniteur" and the " Encyclopedia of
Sciences," — the loto-players lifted their noses and
looked at him with as much curiosity as they might
have felt about a giraffe. Monsieur des Grassins and
his son, to whom the appearance of a man of fashion
was not wholly unknown, were nevertheless as much
astonished as their neighbors, whether it was that they
fell under the indefinable influence of the general feeling,
or that they really shared it as with satirical glances
they seemed to say to their compatriots, —
" That is what you see in Paris ! "
They were able to examine Charles at their leisure
without fearing to displease the master of the house.
Grandet was absorbed in the long letter which he held
in his hand ; and to read it he had taken the only candle
upon the card-table, paying no heed to his guests or
56 Eugenie Qrandet.
their pleasure. Eugenie, to whom such a t}'pe of per¬
fection, whether of dress or of person, was absolutely
unknown, thought she beheld in her cousin a being
descended from seraphic spheres. She inhaled with
delight the fragrance wafted from the graceful curls of
that brilliant head. She would have liked to touch the
soft kid of the delicate gloves. She envied Charles his
small hands, his complexion, the freshness and refine¬
ment of his features. In short, —if it is possible to
sum up the effect this elegant being produced upon an
ignorant young girl perpetually employed in darning
stockings or in mending her father's clothes, and whose
life flowed on beneath these unclean rafters, seeing none
but occasional passers along the silent street, — this
vision of her cousin roused in her soul an emotion of
delicate desire like that inspired in a j'oung man by the
fanciful pictures of women drawn by West all for the
English "Keepsakes," and engraved by the Findens
with so clever a tool that we fear, as we breathe upon
the paper, that the celestial apparitions may be wafted
away. Charles drew from his pocket a handkerchief
embroidered by the great lady now travelling in Scot¬
land. As Eugenie saw this pretty piece of work, clone
in the vacant hours which were lost to love, she looked
at her cousin to see if it were possible that he meant to
make use of it. The manners of the young man, his
gestures, the way in which he took up his eye-glass, his
Eugenie Gcrandet.
57
affected superciliousness, his contemptuous glance at
the coffer which had just given so much pleasure to
the rich heiress, and which he evidently regarded as
without value, or even as ridiculous, — all these things,
which shocked the Cruchots and the des Grassins,
pleased Eugenie so deeply that before she slept she
dreamed long dreams of her phoenix cousin.
The loto-numbers were drawn very slowly, and pres¬
ently the game came suddenly to an end. La Grande
Nanon entered and said aloud: " Madame, I want the
sheets for monsieur's bed."
Madame Grandet followed her out. Madame des
Grassins said in a low voice: "Let us keep our sous
and stop playing." Each took his or her two sous
from the chipped saucer in which they had been put;
then the party moved in a body toward the fire.
'' Have you finished your game ? " said Grandet,
without looking up from his letter.
" Yes, yes ! " replied Madame des Grassins, taking
a seat near Charles.
Eugenie, prompted by a thought often born in the
heart of a young girl when sentiment enters it for the
first time, left the room to go and help her mother
and Nanon. Had an able confessor then questioned
her she would, no"*doubt, have avowed to him that she
thought neither of her mother nor of Nanon, but was
pricked by a poignant desire to look after her cousin's
58 Eugenie Grandet.
room and concern herself with her cousin; to supply
what might be needed, to remedy any forgetfulness, to
see that all was done to make it, as far as possible,
suitable and elegant; and, in fact, she arrived in time
to prove to her mother and Nanon that everything still
remained to be done. She put into Nanon's head the
notion of passing a warming-pan between the sheets.
She herself covered the old table with a cloth and re¬
quested Nanon to change it every morning; she con¬
vinced her mother that it was necessary to light a good
fire, and persuaded Nanon to bring up a great pile of
wood into the corridor without saying anything to her
father. She ran to get, from one of the corner-shelves
of the hall, a tray of old lacquer which was part of
the inheritance of the late Monsieur de la Bertelliere,
catching up at the same time a six-sided crystal gqblet,
a little tarnished gilt spoon, an antique flask engraved
with cupids, all of which she put triumphantly on the
corner of her cousin's chimney-piece. More ideas surged
through her head in one quarter of an hour than she
had ever had since she came into the world.
" Mamma," she said, " my cousin will never bear the
smell of a tallow candle ; suppose we buy a wax one? "
And she darted, swift as a bird, to get the five-franc
piece which she had just received for her monthly
expenses. " Here, Nanon," she cried, " quick ! "
" What will your father say? " This terrible remon-
Eugenie Grandet.
59
strance was uttered by Madame Grandet as she beheld
her daughter armed with an old Sevres sugar-basin
which Grandet had brought home from the chateau of
Froidfrond. " And where will you get the sugar? Are
you crazy ? "
" Mamma, Nanon can buy some sugar as well as the
candle."
" But your father? "
" Surely his nephew ought not to go without a glass
of eau sucree f Besides, he will not notice it."
" Your father sees everything," said Madame Gran¬
det, shaking her head.
Nanon hesitated ; she knew her master.
" Come, Nanon, go, — because it is my birthday."
Nanon gave a loud laugh as she heard the first lit¬
tle jest her young mistress had ever made, and then
obeyed her.
While Eugenie and her mother were trying to em¬
bellish the bedroom assigned by Monsieur Grandet for
his nephew, Charles himself was the object of Madame
des Grassins' attentions; to all appearance she was
setting her cap at him.
"You are very courageous, monsieur," she said to
the young dandy, " to leave the pleasures of the capital
at this season and take up your abode in Saumur.
But if we do not frighten you away, you will find there
are some amusements even here."
60 Eugenie Grandet.
She threw him the ogling glance of the provinces,
where women put so much prudence and reserve into
their eyes that they impart to them the prudish concu¬
piscence peculiar to certain ecclesiastics to whom all
pleasure is either a theft or an error. Charles was so
completely out of his element in this abode, and so far
from the vast chateau and the sumptuous life with
which his fancy had endowed his uncle, that as he
looked at Madame des Grassins he perceived a dim
likeness to Parisian faces. He gracefully responded
to the species of invitation addressed to him, and be¬
gan very naturally a conversation, ill which Madame
des Grassins gradually lowered her voice so as to bring
it into harmony with the nature of the confidences she
was making. "With her, as with Charles, there was the
need of conference; so after a few moments spent in
coquettish phrases and a little serious jesting, the clever
provincial said, thinking herself unheard by the others,
who were discussing the sale of wines which at that
season filled the heads of eveiy one in Saumur, —
" Monsieur, if you will do us the honor to come and
see us, you will give as much pleasure to my husband
as to m}Tself. Our salon is the only one in Saumur
where you will find the higher business circles mingling
with the nobility. We belong to both societies, who
meet at our house simply because they find it amusing.
My husband — I say it with pride — is as much valued
Eugenie Grandet.
61
by the one class as by the other. We will try to relieve
the monotony of your visit here. If you stay all the
time with Monsieur Grandet,""good heavens ! what will
become of you? Your uncle is a sordid miser' who
thinks of nothing but his vines; your aunt is a pious
soul who can't put two ideas together ; and your cousin
is a little fool, without education, perfectly common, no
fortune, who will spend her life in darning towels."
" She is really very nice, this woman," thought
Charles Grandet as he duly responded to Madame des
Grassins' coquetries.
" It seems to me, wife, that you are taking posses¬
sion of monsieur," said the stout banker, laughing.
I On this remark the notary and the president said a
few words that were more or less significant; but the
abbe, looking at them slyly, brought their thoughts to
a focus by taking a pinch of snuff and saying as he
handed round his snuff-box : 1' Who can do the honors
of Saumur for monsieur so well as madame ?"
'' Ah ! what do you mean by that, monsieur l'abbe ?"
demanded Monsieur des Grassins.
"I mean it in the best possible sense for you, for
madame, for the town of Saumur, and for monsieur,"
said the wily old man, turning to Charles.
The Abbe Cruchot had guessed the conversation be¬
tween Charles and Madame des Grassins without seem¬
ing to pay attention to it.
5
62 Evgenie Grandet.
"Monsieur," said Adolphe to Charles with an air
which he tried to make free and easy, " I don't know
whether you remember me, but I had the honor of
dancing as your vis-a-vis at a ball given by the Baron
de Nucingen, and — "
"Perfectly; I remember perfectly, monsieur," an¬
swered Charles, pleased to find himself the object of
general attention.
"Monsieur is your son?" he said to Madame des
Gras sins.
The abbe looked at her maliciously.
" Yes, monsieur," she answered.
'' Then you were very young when you were in
Paris?" said Charles, addressing Adolphe.
" You must know, monsieur," said the abbe, " that
we send them to Babjdon as soon as they are weaned."
Madame des Grassins examined the abbe with a
glance of extreme penetration.
"It is only in the provinces," he continued, "that
you will find women of thirty and more years as fresh
as madame, here, with a son about to take his degree.
I almost fancy myself back in the days when the young
men stood on chairs in the ball-rooms to see you dance,
madame," added the abbe, turning to his female adver¬
sary. " To me, your triumphs are but of yesterday —"
"The old rogue!" thought Madame des Grassins;
'' can he have guessed my intentions ? "
Eugenie Grandet.
63
'' It seems that I shall have a good deal of success
in Saumur," thought Charles as he unbuttoned his
great-coat, put his hand into his waistcoat, and cast
a glance into the far distance, to imitate the attitude
which Chantrey has given to Lord Byron.
The inattention of Pere Grandet, or, to speak more
truly, the preoccupation of mind into which the reading
of the letter had plunged him, did not escape the vigi¬
lance of the notary and the president, who tried to guess
the contents of the letter by the almost imperceptible
motions of the miser's face, which was then under the
full light of the candle. He maintained the habitual
calm of his features with evident difficult}'; we may, in
fact, picture to ourselves the countenance such a man
endeavored to preserve as he read the fatal letter which
here follows: —
My Brother, — It is almost twenty-three years since we
have seen each other. My marriage was the occasion of our
last interview, after which we parted, and both of us were
happy. Assuredly I could not then foresee that you would
one day be the prop of the family whose prosperity you then
predicted.
When you hold this letter within your hands I shall be no
longer living. In the position I now hold I cannot survive
the disgrace of bankruptcy. I have waited on the edge of
the gulf until the last moment, hoping to save myself. The
end has come, I must sink into it. The double bankruptcies
of my broker and of Roguin, my notary, have carried off my
64
Eugenie Grandet.
last resources and left me nothing. I have the bitterness of
owing nearly four millions, with assets not more than twenty-
five per cent in value to pay them. The wines in my ware¬
houses suffer from the fall in prices caused by the abundance
and quality of your vintage. In three days Paris will cry
out: "Monsieur Grandet was a knave!" and I, an honest
man, shall be lying in my winding-sheet of infamy. I de¬
prive my son of a good name, which I have stained, and the
fortune of his mother, which I have lost. He knows nothing
of all this, — my unfortunate child whom I idolize! We
parted tenderly. He was ignorant, happily, that the last
beatings of my heart were spent in that farewell. Will he
not some day curse me? My brother, my brother! the curses
of our children are horrible; they can appeal against ours, but
theirs are irrevocable. Grandet, you are my elder brother,
you owe me your protection; act for me so that Charles may
cast no bitter words upon my grave! My brother, if I were
writing with my blood, with my tears, no greater anguish
could I put into this letter, — nor as great, for then I should
weep, I should bleed, I should die, I should suffer no more;
but now I suffer and look at death with dry eyes.
" From henceforth you are my son's father; he has no rela¬
tions, as you well know, on his mother's side. Why did I
not consider social prejudices? Why did I yield to love?
Why did I marry the natural daughter of a great lord?
Charles has no family. Oh, my unhappy son! my son!
Listen, Grandet! I implore nothing for myself, — besides,
your property may not be large enough to carry a mortgage
of three millions, — but for my son! Brother, my suppliant
hands are clasped as I think of you; behold them! Grandet,
I confide my son to you in dying, and I look at the means of
death writh less pain as I think that you will be to him a
EugSnie Grandet.
65
father. He loved me well, my Charles; I was good to him,
I never thwarted him; he will not curse me. Ah, you will
see! he is gentle, he is like his mother, he will cause you no
grief. Poor boy! accustomed to all the enjoyments of lux¬
ury, he knows nothing of the privations to which you and I
were condemned by the poverty of our youth. And I leave
him ruined! alone! Yes, all my friends will avoid him,
and it is I who have brought this humiliation upon him!
"Would that I had the force to send him with one thrust into
the heavens to his mother's side! Madness! I come back to
my disaster — to his. I send him to you that you may tell
him in some fitting way of my death, of his future fate.
Be a father to him, but a good father. Do not tear him all
at once from his idle life, it would kill him. I beg him on
my knees to renounce all rights that, as his mother's heir, he
may have on my estate. But the prayer is superfluous; he is
honorable, and he will feel that he must not appear among
my creditors. Bring him to see this at the right time; re¬
veal to him the hard conditions of the life I have made for
him: and if he still has tender thoughts of me, tell him in
my name that all is not lost for him. Yes, work, labor,
which saved us both, may give him back the fortune of
which I have deprived him; and if he listens to'his father's
voice as it reaches him from beyond the grave, he will go to
the Indies. My brother, Charles is an upright and courageous
young man: give him the wherewithal to make his venture;
he will die sooner than not repay you the funds which you
may lend him. Grandet! if you will not do this, you will
Lay up for yourself remorse. Ah, should my child find
neither tenderness nor succor in you, I would call down the
vengeance of God upon your cruelty!
If I had been able to save something from the wreck, I
CG
Eugenie Grandet
might have had the right to leave him at least a portion of
his mother's property; but my last monthly payments have
absorbed everything. I did not wish to die uncertain of my
child's fate; I hoped to feel a sacred promise in a clasp of
your hand which might have warmed my heart: but time
fails me. While Charles is journeying to you I shall be
preparing my assignment. I shall endeavor to show by the
order and good faith of my accounts that my disaster conies
neither from a faulty life nor from dishonesty. It is for
my son's sake that I strive to do this.
Farewell, my brother! May the blessing of God be
yours for the generous guardianship I lay upon you, and
which, I doubt not, you will accept. A voice will hence¬
forth and forever pray for you in that world where we must
all go, and where I am now as you read these lines.
Victor-Ange-Gillaume Grandet.
" So you are talking ? " said Pere Grandet as he care¬
fully folded the letter in its original creases and put it
into his waistcoat-pocket. He looked at his nephew
with a humble, timid air, beneath which he hid his feel¬
ings and his calculations. "Have you warmed your¬
self? " he said to him.
" Thoroughly, my dear uncle."
"Well, where are the women?" said his uncle, al¬
ready forgetting that his nephew was to sleep at the
house. At this moment Eugenie and Madame Grandet
returned.
'' Is the room all ready ?" said Grandet, recovering
his composure.
Eugenie Grandet.
67
" Yes, father."
" Well then, ray nephew, if you are tired, Nanon shall
show you your room. It is n't a dandy's room ; but you
will excuse a poor vine-grower who never has a penny
to spare. Taxes swallow up everything."
" We do not wish to intrude, Grandet," said the
banker; "you may want to talk with your nephew,
and therefore we will bid you good-night."
At these words the assembly rose, and each made a
parting bow in keeping with his or her own character.
The old notary went to the door to fetch his lantern
and came back to light it, offering to accompany the
des Grassins on their wa}\ Madame des Grassins had
not foreseen the incident which brought the evening
prematurely to an end, her servant therefore had not
arrived.
"Will you do me the honor to take my arm, ma-
dame?" said the abbe.
"Thank 3*011, monsieur l'abbe, but I have 1113* son,"
she answered dryly.
"Ladies cannot compromise themselves with me,"
said the abbe.
"Take Monsieur Cruchot's arm," said her hus¬
band.
The abbe walked off with the pretty lady so quick^*
that they were soon some distance in advance of the
o.n vn vmi.
68 Eugenie Grandet.
" Tliat is a good-looking j~oung man, maclame," he
said, pressing her arm. " Good-by to the grapes, the
vintage is done. It is all over with us. We may as
wrell say adieu to Mademoiselle Grandet. Eugenie will
belong to the dandy. Unless this cousin is enamoured
of some Parisian woman, your son Adolphe will find
another rival in — "
"Not at all, monsieur l'abbe. This young man
can't fail to see that Eugenie is a little fool, — a girl
without the least freshness. Did you notice her to¬
night? She was as yellow as a quince."
" Perhaps you made the cousin notice it ? "
" I did not take the trouble — "
"Place yourself always beside Eugenie, madame,
and you need never take the trouble to say anything
to the young man against his cousin ; he will make his
own comparisons, which —"
"Well, he has promised to dine with me the dajr
after to-morrow."
" Ah ! if you only would, madame — " said the abbe.
" What is it that you wish me to do, monsieur l'abbe?
Do you mean to offer me bad advice? I have not
reached the age of thirty-nine, without a stain upon my
reputation, thank God! to compromise myself now,
even for the empire of the Great Mogul. You and
I are of an age when we both know the meaning
of words. For an ecclesiastic, you certainly have
Eugenie Grandet.
69
ideas that are very incongruous. Fie! it is worthy
of Faublas!"
"You have read Faublas?"
"No, monsieur l'abbe ; I meant to say the Liaisons
dangereuses."
'' Ah! that book is infinitely more moral," said the
abbe, laughing. " But you make me out as wicked as a
young man of the present day ; I only meant — "
"Do you dare to tell me you were not thinking of
putting wicked things into my head? Is n't it per¬
fectly clear? If this young man — who I admit is very
good-looking — were to make love to me, he would not
think of his cousin. In Paris, I know, good mothers
do devote themselves in this way to the happiness and
welfare of their children ; but we live in the provinces,
monsieur l'abbe."
" Yes, madame."
" And," she continued, " I do not want, and Adolplie
himself would not want, a hundred millions bought at
such a price."
" Madame, I said nothing about a hundred millions ;
that temptation might be too great for either of us to
withstand. Only, I do think that an honest woman
ma}' permit herself, in all honor, certain harmless little
coquetries, which are, in fact, part of her social duty,
and which — "
" Do you think so?"
70 Eugenie Granclet.
"Are we not bound, madame, to make ourselves
agreeable to each other?— Permit me to blow my
nose.— I assure you, madame," he resumed, "that
the young gentleman ogled you through his glass in
a more flattering manner than he put on when he
looked at me; but I forgive him for doing homage to
beauty in preference to old age—"
" It is quite apparent," said the president in his loud
voice, "that Monsieur Grandet of Paris has sent his
son to Saumur with extremely matrimonial intentions."
" But in that case the cousin would n't have fallen
among us like a cannon-ball," answered the notary.
"That doesn't prove anything," said Monsieur cles
Grassins ; "the old miser is always making mysteries."
" Des Grassins, my friend, I have invited the young
man to dinner. You must go and ask Monsieur and
Madame de Larsonniere and the du Hautoys, with the
beautiful demoiselle du Hautoy, of course. I hope she
will be properly dressed ; that jealous mother of hers
does make such a fright of her! Gentlemen, I trust
that you will all do us the honor to come," she added,
stopping the procession to address the two Cruchots.
"Here you are at home, madame," said the notary.
After bowing to the three des Grassins, the three
Cruchots returned home, applying their provincial ge¬
nius for analysis to studying, under all its aspects, the
great event of the evening, which undoubtedly changed
Eugenia Qrancht. 71
tlie respective positions of Grassinists and Crnchotines.
The admirable common-sense which guided all the
actions of these great machinators made each side
feel the necessity of a momentaiy alliance against a
common enemy. Must they not mutually hinder Euge¬
nie from loving her cousin, and the cousin from thinking
of Eugenie ? Could the Parisian resist the influence of
treacherous insinuations, soft-spoken calumnies, slan¬
ders full of faint praise and artless denials, which
should be made to circle incessantly about him and
deceive him?
72
Eugenie Grandet.
IY.
"When the four relations were left alone, Monsieur
Grandet said to his nephew, —
"We must go to bed. It is too late to talk about
the matters which have brought you here ; to-morrow
we will take a suitable moment. We breakfast at eight
o'clock; at midday we eat a little fruit or a bit of
bread, and drink a glass of white wine; and w7e dine,
like the Parisians, at five o'clock. That's the order
of the day. If 3-011 like to go and see the town and
the environs you are free to do so. You will ex¬
cuse me if my occupations clo not permit me to accom¬
pany you. You may perhaps hear people say that I
am rich, — Monsieur Grandet this, Monsieur Grandet
that. I let them talk; their gossip does not hurt
my credit. But I have not a penny; I work in my
old age like an apprentice whose worldly goods are a
bad plane and two good arms. Perhaps you'll soon
know yourself what a franc costs when 3-011 have got
to sweat for it. Nanon, where are the candles? "
" I trust, my nephew, that you will find all 3-011
want," said Madame Grandet; "but if 3-011 should
need anything else, 3-011 can call Nanon."
EugSnie Grandet.
73
" My dear aunt, I shall need nothing; I have, I be¬
lieve, brought everything with me. Permit me to bid
3tou good-night, and my young cousin also."
Charles took a lighted wax candle from Nanon's
hand, — an Anjou candle, very yellow in color, and so
shopworn that it looked like tallow and deceived Mon¬
sieur Grandet, who, incapable of suspecting its presence
under his roof, did not perceive this magnificence.
"I will show you the way," he said.
Instead of leaving the hall by the door which opened
under the archway, Grandet ceremoniously went
through the passage which divided the hall from the
kitchen. A swing-door, furnished with a large oval
pane of glass, shut this passage from the staircase, so
as to fend off the cold air which rushed through it.
But the north wind whistled none the less keenly in
winter, and, in spite of the sand-bags at the bottom of
the doors of the living-room, the temperature within
could scarcely be kept at a proper height. Nanon went
to bolt the outer door; then she closed the hall and
let loose a wolf-dog, whose bark was so strangled that
he seemed to have laryngitis. This animal, noted for
his ferocity, recognized no one but Nanon; the two
untutored children of the fields understood each other.
When Charles saw the yellow, smoke-stained walls
of the well of the staircase, where each worm-eaten
step shook under the heavy foot-fall of his uncle,
74
Eugenie Grandet.
his expectations began to sober more and more. He
fancied himself in a hen-roost. Ilis aunt and cousin,
to whom he turned an inquiring look, were so used to
the staircase that they did not guess the cause of his
amazement, and took the glance for an expression of
friendliness, which they answered by a smile that made
him desperate.
"Why the devil did my father send me to such a
place ? " he said to himself.
When they reached the first landing he saw three
doors painted in Etruscan red and without casings, —
doors sunk in the dusty walls and provided with iron
bars, which in fact were bolts, each ending with the
pattern of a flame, as did both ends of the long sheath
of the lock. The first door at the top of the staircase,
which opened into a room directly above the kitchen,
was evidently walled up. In fact, the only entrance to
that room was through Grandet's bedchamber; the room
itself was his office. The single window which lighted
it, on the side of the court, was protected by a lattice
of strong iron bars. No one, not even Madame Gran¬
det, had permission to enter it. The old man chose
to be alone, like an alchemist in his laboratoiy. There,
no doubt, some hiding-place had been ingeniously con¬
structed ; there the title-deeds of property were stored ;
there hung the scales with which to weigh the louis;
there were devised, by night and secretly, the esti-
Eugenie Grandet.
75
mates, the profits, the receipts, so that business men,
finding Grandet prepared at all points, imagined that
he got his cue from fairies or demons ; there, no doubt,
■while Nanon's loud snoring shook the rafters, while the
wolf-dog watched and yawned in the courtyard, while
Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet were quietly sleep¬
ing, came the old cooper to cuddle, to con over, to
caress and clutch and clasp his gold. The walls were
thick, the screens sure. He alone had the key of this
laboratory, where—so people declared—he studied the
maps on which his fruit-trees were marked, and calcu¬
lated his profits to a vine, and almost to a twig.
The door of Eugenie's chamber was opposite to the
walled-up entrance to this room. At the other end of
the landing were the appartements of the married pair,
which occupied the whole front of the house. Madame
Grandet had a room next to that of Eugenie, which
was entered through a glass door. The master's cham¬
ber was separated from that of his wife by a partition,
and from the mysterious strong-room by a thick wall.
Pere Grandet lodged his nephew on the second floor,
in the high mansarde attic which was above his own
bedroom, so that he might hear him if the young man
took it into his head to go and come. When Eugenie
and her mother reached the middle of the landing thei*
kissed each other for good-night; then with a few words
of adieu to Charles, cold upon the lips, but certainly
76 Eugenie Grandet.
very warm in the heart of the young girl, they with¬
drew into their own chambers.
" Here you are in your room, my nephew," said Pere
Grandet as he opened the door. '' If you need to go
out, call Nanon; without her, beware! the dog would
eat you up without a word. Sleep well. Good-night.
Ha! why, they have made you a fire! " he cried.
At this moment Nanon appeared with the warming-
pan.
'' Here's something more ! " said Monsieur Grandet.
'' Do you take my nephew for a lying-in woman ?
Carry off your brazier, Nanon!"
"But, monsieur, the sheets are damp, and this gen¬
tleman is as delicate as a woman."
"Well, go on, as you've taken it into 3rour head,"
said Grandet, pushing her by the shoulders; '' but
don't set things on fire." So saying, the miser went
clown-stairs, grumbling indistinct sentences.
Charles stood aghast in the midst of his trunks. Af¬
ter casting his eyes on the attic-walls covered with
that yellow paper sprinkled with bouquets so well
known in dance-houses, on the fireplace of ribbed
stone whose very look was chilling, on the chairs of
3'ellow wood with varnished cane seats that seemed to
have more than the usual four angles, on the open
night-table capacious enough to hold a small sergeant-
at-arms, on the meagre bit of rag-carpet beside the
EugSyiie Grandet.
77
bed, on the tester whose cloth valance shook as if, de¬
voured by moths, it was about to fall, he turned gravely
to la Grande Nanon and said, —
" Look here ! my dear woman, just tell me, — am I
in the house of Monsieur Grandet, formerly mayor of
Saumur, and brother to Monsieur Grandet of Paris ? "
"Yes, monsieur; and a very good, a very kind, a
very perfect gentleman. Shall I help you to unpack
3'our trunks ? "
"Faith! yes, if you will, my old trooper. Didn't
you serve in the marines of the Imperial Guard? "
" Ho, ho, ho ! " laughed Nanon. " What's that, —
the marines of the guard? Is it salt? Does it go in
the water ? "
" Here, get me my dressing-gown out of that valise ;
there's the key."
Nanon was wonder-struck by the sight of a dressing-
gown made of green silk, brocaded with gold flowers
of an antique design.
'' Are you going to put that on to go to bed with ? "
she asked.
"Yes."
'' Holy Virgin! what a beautiful altar-cloth it would
make for the parish church! My dear darling mon¬
sieur, give it to the church, and you '11 save your soul;
if you don't, you'll lose it. Oh, how nice you look
in it! I must call mademoiselle to see you."
6
78 Eugenie Grandet.
" Come, Nanon, if Nanon you are, hold your tongue ;
let me go to bed. I'll arrange my things to-morrow.
If my dressing-gown pleases you so much, you shall save
your own soul. I'm too good a Christian not to give
it to you when I go away, and you can do what 3'ou
like with it."
Nanon stood rooted to the ground, gazing at Charles
and unable to put faith in his words.
" Good night, Nanon."
" What in the world have I come here for?" thought
Charles as he went to sleep. "My father is not a
fool; my journey must have some object. Pshaw!
put off serious thought till the morrow, as some Greek
idiot said."
" Blessed Virgin! how charming he is, my cousin! "
Eugenie was saying, interrupting her prayers, which
that night at least were never finished.
Madame Grandet had no thoughts at all as she went
to bed. She heard the miser walking up and down his
room through the door of communication which was
in the middle of the partition. Like all timid women,
she had studied the character of her lord. Just as the
petrel foresees the storm, she knew by imperceptible
signs when an inward tempest shook her husband ; and
at such times, to use an expression of her own, she
" feigned dead."
Grandet gazed at the door lined with sheet-iron
Eugenie Grranclet.
79
which he had lately put to his sanctum, and said to
himself, —
" What a crazy idea of my brother to bequeath
his son to me ! A fine legacy! I have not fifty francs
to give him. What are fifty francs to a dandy who
looked at my barometer as if he meant to make fire¬
wood of it!"
In thinking over the consequences of that legacy of
anguish Grandet was perhaps more agitated than his
brother had been at the moment of writing it.
" I shall have that golden robe," thought Nanon,
who went to sleep tricked out in her altar-cloth, dream¬
ing for the first time in her life of flowers, embroidery,
and damask, just as Eugenie was dreaming of love.
In the pure and monotonous life of young girls there
comes a delicious hour when the sun sheds its rays
into their soul, when the flowers express their thoughts,
when the throbbings of the heart send upward to the
brain their fertilizing warmth and melt all thoughts into
a vague desire, — day of innocent melancholy and of
dulcet joj'S! When babes begin to see, they smile;
when a jToung girl first perceives the sentiment of
nature, she smiles as she smiled when an infant. If
light is the first love of life, is not love a light to the
heart ? The moment to see within the veil of earthly
things had come for Eugenie.
80 EugSnie Grandet.
An early riser, like all provincial girls, she was
up betimes and said her prayers, and then began the
business of dressing, — a business which henceforth
was to have a meaning. First she brushed and
smoothed her chestnut hair and twisted its heavy
masses to the top of her head with the utmost care,
preventing the loose tresses from straying, and giv¬
ing to her head a symmetry which heightened the
timid candor of her face; for the simplicity of these
accessories accorded well with the innocent sincerity
of its lines. As she washed her hands again and
again in the cold water which hardened and reddened
the skin, she looked at her handsome round arms and
asked herself what her cousin did to make his hands
so softly white, his nails so delicately curved. She put
on new stockings and her prettiest shoes. She laced
her corset straight, without skipping a single eyelet.
And then, wishing for the first time in her life to
appear to advantage, she felt the joy of having a new
gown, well made, which rendered her attractive.
As she finished her toilet the clock of the parish
church struck the hour; to her astonishment, it was
onty seven. The desire of having plenty of time for
dressing carefully had led her to get up too earty.
Ignorant of the art of retouching every curl and study¬
ing every effect, Eugenie simply crossed her arms, sat
down by the window, and looked at the court-yard, the
Eugenie Grandet.
81
narrow garden, and the high terraced walls that over¬
topped it: a dismal, hedged-in prospect, yet not wholly
devoid of those mysterious beauties which belong to
solitary or uncultivated nature. Near the kitchen was
a well surrounded by a curb, with a pulley fastened
to a bent iron rod clasped by a vine whose leaves
were withered, reddened, and shrivelled by the sea¬
son. From thence the tortuous shoots straggled to
the wall, clutched it, and ran the whole length of
the house, ending near the wood-pile, where the logs
were ranged with as much precision as the books in a
library. The pavement of the court-yard showed the
black stains produced in time by lichens, herbage, and
the absence of all movement or friction. The thick
walls wore a coating of green moss streaked with wav¬
ing brown lines, and the eight stone steps at the
bottom of the court-yard which led up to the gate of
the garden were disjointed and hidden beneath tall
plants, like the tomb of a knight buried by his widow
in the days of the Crusades. Above a foundation of
moss-grown, crumbling stones was a trellis of rotten
wood, half fallen from decay; over them clambered
and intertwined at will a mass of clustering creepers.
On each side of the latticed gate stretched the crooked
arms of two stunted apple-trees. Three parallel walks,
gravelled and separated from each other by square
beds, where the earth was held in by box-borders, made
82 Eugenie Crrandet.
the garden, which terminated, beneath a terrace of the
old walls, in a group of lindens. At the farther end
were raspberry-bushes; at the other, near the house,
an immense walnut-tree drooped its branches almost
into the window of the miser's sanctum.
A clear day and the beautiful autumnal sun common
to the banks of the Loire were beginning to melt the
hoar-frost which the night had laid on these picturesque
objects, on the walls, and on the plants which swathed
the garden and the court-yard. Eugenie found a novel
charm in the aspect of things lately so insignificant to
her. A thousand confused thoughts came to birth in
her mind and grew there, as the sunbeams grew with¬
out along the wall. She felt that impulse of delight,
vague, inexplicable, which wraps the moral being as
a cloud wraps the physical body. Her thoughts were
all in keeping with the details of this strange landscape,
and the harmonies of her heart blended with the har¬
monies of nature. When the sun reached an angle
of the wall where the " Venus-liair" of southern climes
drooped its thick leaves, lit with the changing colors of
a pigeon's breast, celestial rays of hope illumined the
future to her eyes, and thenceforth she loved to gaze
upon that piece of wall, on its pale flowers, its blue
harebells, its wilting herbage, with which she mingled
memories as tender as those of childhood. The noise
made by each leaf as it fell from its twig in the void
Eug&nie Grandet.
83
of that echoing court gave answer to the secret ques¬
tionings of the young girl, who could have stayed there
the livelong day without perceiving the flight of time.
Then came tumultuous heavings of the soul. She rose
often, went to her glass, and looked at herself, as an
author in good faith looks at his work to criticise it
and blame it in his own mind.
"I am not beautiful enough for him! " Such was
Eugenie's thought, — a humble thought, fertile in suf¬
fering. The poor girl did not do herself justice; but
modesty, or rather fear, is among the first of love's
virtues. Eugenie belonged to the type of children with
sturdy constitutions, such as we see among the lesser
bourgeoisie, whose beauties always seem a little vulgar;
and yet, though she resembled the Venus of Milo, the
lines of her figure were ennobled by the softer Christian
sentiment which purifies womanhood and gives it a
distinction unknown to the sculptors of antiquity. She
had an enormous head, with the masculine yet delicate
forehead of the Jupiter of Phidias, and gray eyes, to
which lier chaste life, penetrating fully into them,
carried a flood of light. The features of her round
face, formerty fresh and rosy, were at one time swollen
by the small-pox, which destroyed the velvet texture
of the skin, though it kindly left no other traces, and
her cheek was still so soft and delicate that her mother's
kiss made a momentary red mark upon it. Her nose
84 JEugSnie Cfrandet.
was somewhat too thick, but it harmonized well with
the vermilion mouth, whose lips, creased in man}7 lines,
were full of love and kindness. The throat was ex¬
quisitely round. The bust, well curved and carefully
covered, attracted the eye and inspired re very. It
lacked, no doubt, the grace which a fitting dress can
bestow; but to a connoisseur the non-flexibility of her
figure had its own charm. Eugenie, tall and strongly
made, had none of the prettiness which pleases the
masses; but she was beautiful with a beauty which
the spirit recognizes, and none but artists truly love.
A painter seeking here below for a type of Mary's
celestial purity, searching womankind for those proud
modest eyes which Raphael divined, for those virgin
lines, often due to chances of conception, which the
modesty of Christian life alone can bestow or keep
unchanged,—such a painter, in love with his ideal,
would have found in the face of Eugenie the innate
nobleness that is ignorant of itself; he would have seen
beneath the calmness of that brow a world of love ; he
would have felt, in the shape of the eyes, in the fall
of the eyelids, the presence of the nameless something
that we call divine. Her features, the contour of her
head, which no expression of pleasure had ever altered
or wearied, were like the lines of the horizon softly
traced in the far distance across the tranquil lakes.
That calm and rosy countenance, margined with light
Eugenie Qrandet. 85
like a lovely full-blown flower, rested the mind, held
the eye, and imparted the charm of the conscience that
was there reflected. Eugenie was standing on the
shore of life where young illusions flower, where daisies
are gathered with delights erelong to be unknown;
and thus she said, looking at her image in the glass,
unconscious as yet of love: "I am too ugly; he will
not notice me."
Then she opened the door of her chamber which led
to the staircase, and stretched out her neck to listen
for the household noises. " He is not up," she thought,
hearing Nanon's morning cough as the good soul went
and came, sweeping out the halls, lighting her fire,
chaining the dog, and speaking to the beasts in the
stable. Eugenie at once went down and ran to Nanon,
who was milking the cow.
"Nanon, my good Nanon, make a little cream for
m}r cousin's breakfast."
"Why, mademoiselle, }tou should have thought of
that yesterday," said Nanon, bursting into a loud peal
of laughter. "I can't make cream. Your cousin is
a darling, a darling! oh, that he is ! You should have
seen him in his dressing-gown, all silk and gold! I
saw him, I did ! He wears linen as fine as the surplice
of monsieur le cure."
"Nanon, please make us a galette"
" And who'll give me wood for the oven, and flour
86 Eugenie Grrandet.
and butter for the cakes ?" said Nanon, who in her
function of prime-minister to Grandet assumed at times
enormous importance in the eyes of Eugenie and her
mother. " Mustn't rob the master to feast the cousin.
You ask him for butter and flour and wood : he's your
father, perhaps he '11 give you some. See ! there he is
now, coming to give out the provisions."
Eugenie escaped into the garden, quite frightened as
she heard the staircase shaking under her father's step.
Already she felt the effects of that virgin modest}'
and that special consciousness of happiness which lead
us to fancy, not perhaps without reason, that our
thoughts are graven on our foreheads and are open
to the eyes of all. Perceiving for the first time the
cold nakedness of her father's house, the poor girl felt
a sort of rage that she could not put it in harmony with
her cousin's elegance. She felt the need of doing
something for him, — what, she did not know. In¬
genuous and truthful, she followed her angelic nature
without mistrusting her impressions or her feelings.
The mere sight of her cousin had wakened within her the
natural yearnings of a woman,—yearnings that were
the more likely to develop ardently because, having
reached her twenty-third year, she was in the plenitude
of her intelligence and her desires. For the first time
in her life her heart was full of terror at the sight of her
father; in him she saw the master of her fate, and she
Eugenie Crrandet. 87
fancied herself guilty of wrong-doing in hiding from his
knowledge certain thoughts. She walked with hasty
steps, surprised to breathe a purer air, to feel the sun's
rays quickening her pulses, to absorb from their heat
a moral warmth and a new life. As she turned over
in her mind some stratagem by which to get the cake,
a quarrel — an event as rare as the sight of swallows
in winter — broke out between la Grande Nanon and
Grandet. Armed with his keys, the master had come
to dole out provisions for the day's consumption.
'' Is there any bread left from yesterday ? " he said
to Nanon.
" Not a crumb, monsieur."
Grandet took a large round loaf, well floured and
moulded in one of the flat baskets which they use for
baking in Anjou, and was about to cut it, when Nanon
said to him, —
" We are five, to-day, monsieur."
"That's true," said Grandet, "but j'our loaves
weigh six pounds ; there '11 be some left. Besides, these
young fellows from Paris don't eat bread, you'll see."
" Then they must eat frippe ? " said Nanon.
Frippe is a word of the local lexicon of Anjou,
and means any accompaniment of bread, from but¬
ter which is spread upon it, the commonest kind of
frippe, to peach preserve, the most distinguished of all
the frippes ; those who in their childhood have licked
88 Eugenie Grandet.
the frippe and left the bread, "will comprehend the
meaning of Nanon's speech.
" No," answered Grandet, " they eat neither bread
nor frippe ; they are something like marriageable girls."
After ordering the meals for the day with his usual
parsimony, the goodman, having locked the closets
containing the supplies, was about to go towards the
fruit-garden, when Nanon stopped him to say, —
'' Monsieur, give me a little flour and some butter,
and I '11 make a galette for the young ones."
1' Are you going to pillage the house on account of
my nephew ?"
" I was n't thinking any more of your nephew than
I was of your dog, — not more than you think yourself;
for, look here, you 've only forked out six bits of sugar.
I want eight."
"What's all this, Nanon? I have never seen 3'ou
like this before. What have 3*ou got in 3'our head?
Are 3tou the mistress here? You sha'n't have more
than six pieces of sugar."
"Well, then, how is 3'our nephew to sweeten his
coffee ? "
" With two pieces ; I '11 go without, myself."
" Go without sugar at your age ! I'd rather bu3r 3*011
some out of m3* own pocket."
" Mind 3*our own business."
In spite of the recent fall in prices, sugar was still
EvgSnie Grrandet.
89
in Grandet's ej-es the most valuable of all the colonial
products ; to him it was always six francs a pound. The
necessity of economizing it, acquired under the Empire,
had grown to be the most inveterate of his habits.
All women, even the greatest ninnies, know how to
dodge and double to get their ends ; Nanon abandoned
the sugar for the sake of getting the galette.
"Mademoiselle!" she called through the window,
'' do 3'ou want some galette f "
" No, no," answered Eugenie.
" Come, Nanon," said Grandet, hearing his daugh¬
ter's voice, "see here." He opened the cupboard
where the flour was kept, gave her a cupful, and
added a few ounces of butter to the piece he had
already cut off.
" I shall want wood for the oven," said the implac¬
able Nanon.
"Well, take what you want," he answered sadly;
" but in that case you must make us a fruit-tart, and
you '11 cook the whole dinner in the oven. In that way
you won't need two fires."
"Goodness!" cried Nanon, "you needn't tell me
that."
Grandet cast a look that was wellnigh paternal upon
his faithful deputy.
" Mademoiselle," she cried, when his back was
turned, "we shall have the galette."
90 EugSnie Grandet.
Pere Grandet returned from the garden with the
fruit and arranged a plateful on the kitchen-table.
"Just see, monsieur," said Nanon, "what pretty
boots your nephew has. What leather! why it smells
good! What does he clean it with, I wonder ? Am
I to put your egg-polish on it?"
"Nanon, I think eggs would injure that kind of
leather. Tell him you don't know how to black mo¬
rocco ; yes, that's morocco. He will get you some¬
thing himself in Saumur to polish those boots with. I
have heard that they put sugar into the blacking to
make it shine."
"They look good to eat," said the cook, putting
the boots to her nose. "Bless me! if they don't
smell like madame's eau - de - cologne. Ah! how
funny! "
" Funny! " said her master. " Do you call it funny
to put more money into boots than the man who stands
in them is worth ? "
" Monsieur," she said, when Grandet returned the
second time, after locking the fruit-garden, " won't }'ou
have the pot-au-feu put on once or twice a week on
account of your nephew?"
" Yes."
" Am I to go to the butcher's? "
" Certainly not. We will make the broth of fowls ;
the farmers will bring them. I shall tell Cornoiller
Eugenie Grandet.
91
to shoot some crows; they make the best soup in the
world."
" Is n't it true, monsieur, that crows eat the dead?"
" You are a fool, Nanon. They eat what they can
get, like the rest of the world. Don't we all live on the
dead ? What are legacies ? "
Monsieur Grandet, having no further orders to
gi ;e, drew out his watch, and seeing that he had
half an hour to dispose of before breakfast, he took
his hat, went and kissed his daughter, and said to her :
"Do you want to come for a walk in the fields,
down by the Loire? I have something to do there."
Eugenie fetched her straw bonnet, lined with pink
taffeta; then the father and daughter went down the
winding street to the shore.
'' Where are you going at this early hour ? " said
Cruchot, the notary, meeting them.
"To see something," answered Grandet, not duped
by the matutinal appearance of his friend.
When Pere Grandet went to " see something," the
notary knew by experience there was something to be
got by going with him ; so he went.
" Come, Cruchot," said Grandet, " you are one of
my friends. I '11 show you what folly it is to plant
poplar-trees on good ground."
"Do you call the sixt}7 thousand francs that you
pocketed for those that were in your fields down by
92
Eugfnie Grandet.
the Loire, folly?" said Maitre Cruchot, opening his
eyes with amazement. "What luck you have had!
To cut down your trees at the very time they ran
short of white-wood at Nantes, and to sell them at
thirty francs!"
Eugenie listened, without knowing that she ap¬
proached the most solemn moment of her whole life,
and that the notary was about to bring down upon 1. er
head a paternal and supreme sentence. Grandet had
now reached the magnificent fields which he owned on
the banks of the Loire, where thirty workmen were
employed in clearing away, filling up, and levelling the
spots formerly occupied by the poplars.
'' Maitre Cruchot, see how much ground this tree
once took up! Jean," he cried to a laborer, " m-m-
measure with your r-r-rule, b-both ways."
" Four times eight feet," said the man.
" Thirty-two feet lost," said Grandet to Cruchot.
" I had three hundred poplars in this one line, is n't that
so? Well, then, three h-h-hundred times thir-thirty-two
lost m-m-me five hundred in h-h-hay; add twice as
much for the side rows, — fifteen hundred; the middle
rows as much more. So we may c-c-call it a th-thou-
sand b-b-bales of h-h-hay —
"Very good," said Cruchot, to help out his friend;
'' a thousand bales are worth about six hundred
francs."
Eugenie Grandet. 93
" Say t-t-twelve hundred, be-c-cause there's three or
four hundred francs on the second crop. Well, then,
c-c-calculate that t-twelve thousand francs a year for
f-f-forty years with interest c-c-comes to —
" Say sixty thousand francs," said the notaiy.
" I am willing; c-c-comes t-t-to sixty th-th-thousand.
Very good," continued Grandet, without stuttering:
'' two thousand poplars forty years old will only yield
me fifty thousand francs. There's a loss. I have
found that myself," said Grandet, getting on his high
horse. " Jean, fill up all the holes except those at the
bank of the river ; there you are to plant the poplars I
have bought. Plant 'em there, and they '11 get nourish¬
ment from the government," he said, turning to Cru-
chot and giving a slight motion to the wen on his nose,
which expressed more than the most ironical of smiles.
"True enough; poplars should only be planted on
poor soil," said Cruchot, amazed at Grandet's calcu¬
lations.
" Y-y-yes, monsieur," answered the old man satiri¬
cally.
Eugenie, who was gazing at the sublime scenery of
the Loire, and paying no attention to her father's
reckonings, presently turned an ear to the remarks of
Cruchot when she heard him say, —
" So you have brought a son-in-law from Paris. All
Saumur is talking about your nephew. I shall soon
*7
94 Eugenie Grrandet.
have the marriage-contract to draw up, hey! Pere
Grandet?"
" You g-g-got up very early to t-t-tell me that," said
Grandet, accompanying the remark with a motion of
his wen. " Well, old c-c-comra-ade, I'll be frank, and
t-t-tell you what you want t-t-to know. I would
rather, do you see, f-f-ling my daughter into the Loire
than g-g-give her to her c-c-cousin. You may t-t-tell
that everywhere, — no, never mind; let the world
t-t-talk."
This answer dazzled and blinded the 3roung girl with
sudden light. The distant hopes upspringing in her
heart bloomed suddenly, became real, tangible, like a
cluster of flowers, and she saw them cut down and wilt¬
ing on the earth. Since the previous evening she had at¬
tached herself to Charles by all those links of happiness
which bind soul to soul; from henceforth suffering was to
rivet them. Is it not the noble destiny of women to be
more moved by the dark solemnities of grief than b}* the
splendors of fortune ? How was it that fatherlj7 feeling
had died out of her father's heart ? Of what crime had
Charles been guilty? Mysterious questions! Already
her dawning love, a mystery so profound, was wrap¬
ping itself in mystery. She walked back trembling in
all her limbs ; and when she reached the gloomy street,
lately so joyous to her, she felt its sadness, she breathed
the melancholy which time and events had printed there.
Eugenie Grrandet.
95
None of love's lessons lacked. A few steps from their
own door she went on before ber father and waited at
the threshold. But Grandet, who saw a newspaper in
the notary's hand, stopped short and asked, —
" How are the Funds? "
" You never listen to my advice, Grandet," answered
Cruchot. "Buy soon; you will still make twenty per
cent in two years, besides getting an excellent rate of
interest, — live thousand a year for eighty thousand
francs fifty centimes."
"We'll see about that," answered Grandet, rubbing
his chin.
" Good God! " exclaimed the notary.
" Well, what? " cried Grandet; and at the same mo¬
ment Cruchot put the newspaper under his eyes and said :
" Read that! "
" Monsieur Grandet, one of the most respected merchants
in Paris, blew his brains out yesterday, after making his
usual appearance at the Bourse. He had sent his resignation
to the president of the Chamber of Deputies, and had also
resigned his functions as a judge of the commercial courts.
The failures of Monsieur Roguiu and Monsieur Soucliet, his
broker and his notary, had ruined him. The esteem felt for
Monsieur Grandet and the credit he enjoyed were neverthe¬
less such that he might have obtained the necessary assist¬
ance from other business houses. It is much to be regretted
that so honorable a man should have yielded to momentary
despair," etc.
96
Eugenie Grrandet.
" I knew it," said the old wine-grower to the notary.
The words sent a chill of horror through Maitre Cru-
cliot, who, notwithstanding his impassibility as a notary,
felt the cold running down his spine as he thought that
Grandet of Paris had possibly implored in vain the
millions of Grandet of Saumur.
" And his son, so joyous yesterday —"
'' He knows nothing as yet," answered Grandet,
with the same composure.
"Adieu! Monsieur Grandet," said Cruchot, who
now understood the state of the case, and went off
to reassure Monsieur de Bonfons.
On entering, Grandet found breakfast ready. Ma¬
dame Grandet, round whose neck Eugenie had flung her
arms, kissing her with the quick effusion of feeling often
caused by secret grief, was already seated in her chair
on castors, knitting sleeves for the coming winter.
" You can begin to eat," said Nanon, coming down¬
stairs four steps at a time ; '£ the young one is sleeping
like a cherub. Is n't he a darling with his eyes shut?
I went in and I called him: no answer."
"Let him sleep," said Grandet; "he'll wake soon
enough to hear ill-tidings."
"What is it?" asked Eugenie, putting into her
coffee the two little bits of sugar weighing less than
half an ounce which the old miser amused himself by
cutting up in his leisure hours. Madame Grandet,
Eugenie G-randet. 07
who did not dare to put the question, gazed at her
husband.
" His father has blown his brains out."
'' My uncle ? " said Eugenie.
'' Poor young man ! " exclaimed Madame Grandet.
"Poor indeed!" said Grandet; "he isn't worth a
sou!"
"Eh! poor boy, and he's sleeping like the king of
the world ! " said Nanon in a gentle voice.
Eugenie stopped eating. Her heart was wrung, as
the young heart is wrung when pity for the suffering
of one she loves overflows, for the first time, the whole
being of a woman. The poor girl wept.
"What are you crying about? You didn't know
your uncle," said her father, giving her one of those
hungry tigerish looks he doubtless threw upon his piles
of gold.
"But, monsieur," said Nanon, "who wouldn't feel
pity for the poor 3'Oung man, sleeping there like a
wooden shoe, without knowing what's coming?"
" I did n't speak to you, Nanon. Hold your
tongue!"
Eugenie learned at that moment that the woman
who loves must be able to hide her feelings. She did
not answer.
" You will say nothing to him about it, Ma'ame Gran¬
det, till I return," said the old man. "I have to go
98 EugSnie Grandet.
and straighten the line of my hedge along the high¬
road. I shall be back at noon, in time for the second
breakfast, and then I will talk with my nephew about
his affairs. As for you, Mademoiselle Eugenie, if it is
for that dandy you are crying, that's enough, child.
He's going off like a shot to the Indies. You will
never see him again."
The father took his gloves from the brim of his hat,
put them on with his usual composure, pushed them in
place by shoving the fingers of both hands together,
and went out.
"Mamma, I am suffocating!" cried Eugenie when
she was alone with her mother; "I have never suffered
like this."
Madame Grandet, seeing that she turned pale, opened
the window and let her breathe fresh air.
'' I feel better! " said Eugenie after a moment.
This nervous excitement in a nature hitherto, to all
appearance, calm and cold, re-acted on Madame Gran¬
det ; she looked at her daughter with the sympathetic
intuition with which mothers are gifted for the objects
of their tenderness, and guessed all. In truth the
life of the Hungarian sisters, bound together by a
freak of nature, could scarcety have been more intimate
than that of Eugenie and her mother, — always to¬
gether in the embrasure of that window, and sleeping-
together in the same atmosphere.
Eugenie Grrandet. 99
"My poor child!" said Madame Grandet, taking
Eugenie's head and laying it upon her bosom.
At these words the young girl raised her head, ques¬
tioned her mother by a look, and seemed to search out
her inmost thought.
" Why send him to the Indies? " che said. "If he
is unhappy, ought he not to stay with us ? Is he not
our nearest relation ? "
"Yes, my child, it seems natural; but your father
has his reasons : we must respect them."
The mother and daughter sat down in silence, the
former upon her raised seat, the latter in her little arm¬
chair, and both took up their work. Swelling with
gratitude for the full heart-understanding her mother
had given her, Eugenie kissed the dear hand, saying, —
" How good you are, my kind mamma !"
The words sent a glow of light into the motherly
face, worn and blighted as it was by many sorrows.
" You like him?" asked Eugenie.
Madame Grandet only smiled in reply. Then, after a
moment's silence, she said in a low voice; " Do you
love him alreadj^? That is wrong."
" Wrong? " said Eugenie. " Why is it wrong ? You
are pleased with him, Nanon is pleased with him ; why
should he not please me? Come, mamma, let us set
the table for his breakfast."
She threw down her work, and her mother did the
100 Eugenie Grandet.
same, saying, "Foolish child!" But she sanctioned
the child's folly by sharing it. Eugenie called
Nanon.
" What do you want now, mademoiselle?"
" Nanon, can we have cream by midday? "
"Ah! midday, to be sure you can," answered the
old servant.
" Well, let him have his coffee very strong; I heard
Monsieur des Grassins say that they make the coffee
very strong in Paris. Put in a great deal."
'' Where am I to get it ? "
" Buy some."
" Suppose monsieur meets me?"
" He has gone to his fields."
"I'll run, then. But Monsieur Fessard asked me
yesterday if the Magi had come to stay with us when
I bought the wax candle. All the town will know our
goings-on."
" If your father finds it out," said Madame Grandet,
" he is capable, of beating us."
"Well, let him beat us; we will take his blows on
our knees."
Madame Grandet for all answer raised her eyes to
heaven. Nanon put on her hood and went off. Euge¬
nie got out some clean table-linen, and went to fetch
a few bunches of grapes which she had amused herself
by hanging on a string across the attic; she walked
Eugenie Grandet.
101
softly along the corridor, so as not to waken her cousin,
and she could not help listening at the door to his quiet
breathing.
'' Sorrow is watching while he sleeps," she thought.
She took the freshest vine-leaves and arranged her
dish of grapes as coquettishly as a practised house¬
keeper might have done, and placed it triumphantly on
the table. She laid hands on the pears counted out ho¬
lier father, and piled them in a pyramid mixed with
leaves. She went and came, and skipped and ran.
She would have liked to lay under contribution every¬
thing in her father's house; but the keys were in his
pocket. Nanon came back with two fresh eggs. At
sight of them Eugenie almost hugged her round the
neck.
" The farmer from Lande had them in his basket.
I asked him for them, and he gave them to me, the
darling, for nothing, as an attention!"
102
Eugenie Grandet.
V.
After two hours' thought ancl care, during which
Eugenie jumped up twenty times from her work to see
if the coffee were boiling, or to go and listen to the
noise her cousin made in dressing, she succeeded in
preparing a simple little breakfast, very inexpensive,
but which, nevertheless, departed alarmingly from the
inveterate customs of the house. The midday breakfast
was always taken standing. Each took a slice of
bread, a little fruit or some butter, and a glass of wine.
As Eugenie looked at the table drawn up near the fire
with an arm-chair placed before her cousin's plate, at
the two dishes of fruit, the egg-cup, the bottle of white
wine, the bread, and the sugar heaped up in a saucer,
she trembled in all her limbs at the mere thought of the
look her father would give her if he should come in
at that moment. She glanced often at the clock to
see if her cousin could breakfast before the master's
return.
"Don't be troubled, Eugenie; if your father comes
in, I will take it all upon myself," said Madame
Grandet.
Eugenie Grandet.
103
Eugenie could not repress a tear.
" Oh, my good mother! " she cried, " I have never
loved you enough."
Charles, who had been tramping about his room for
some time, singing to himself, now came down. Hap¬
pily, it was only eleven o'clock. The true Parisian ! he
had put as much dandyism into his dress as if lie were
in the chateau of the noble lady then travelling in Scot¬
land. He came into the room with the smiling, cour¬
teous manner so becoming to youth, which made
Eugenie's heart beat with mournful joy. He had taken
the destruction of his castles in Anjou as a joke, and
came up to his aunt gayly.
" Have you slept well, dear aunt? and you, too, my
cousin ? "
"Very well, monsieur; did you?" said Madame
'Grandet.
"I? perfectly."
" You must be hungry, cousin," said Eugenie;
'' will }rou take your seat ? "
"I never breakfast before midday; I never get up
till then. However, I fared so badly on the journey
that I am glad to eat something at once. Besides — "
here he pulled out the prettiest watch Breguet ever
made. "Dear me! I am early, it is only eleven
o'clock! "
" Early?" said Madame Grandet.
10J; Eugenie Grrandet.
"Yes; but I wanted to put my things in order.
Well, I shall be glad to have something to eat, — anj--
thing, it does n't matter what, a chicken, a partridge."
" Holy Virgin ! " exclaimed Nanon, overhearing the
words.
'; A partridge ! " whispered Eugenie to herself; she
would gladly have given the whole of her little hoard
for a partridge.
" Come and sit down," said his aunt.
The young dandy let himself drop into an easy-chair,
just as a pretty woman falls gracefully upon a sofa.
Eugenie and her mother took ordinary chairs and sat
beside him, near the fire.
'' Do you always live here ? " said Charles, thinking
the room uglier by daylight than it had seemed the
night before.
" Always," answered Eugenie, looking at him, " ex¬
cept during the vintage. Then we go and help Nanon,
and live at the Abbaye des Noj'ers."
'' Don't you ever take walks ? "
" Sometimes on, Sunday after vespers, when the
weather is fine," said Madame Grandet, " we walk on
the bridge, or we go and watch the haymakers."
'' Have you a theatre ? "
" Go to the theatre ! " exclaimed Madame Grandet,
"see a play! Wh}', monsieur, don't you know it is
a mortal sin ? "
Eugenie Crrandet.
105
"See here, monsieur," said Nanon, bringing in the
eggs, "here are your chickens, — in the shell."
"Oh! fresh eggs," said Charles, who, like all people
accustomed to luxury, had already forgotten about his
partridge, " that is delicious ; now, if you will give me
the butter, my good girl."
"Butter! then you can't have the galette."
" Nanon, bring the butter," cried Eugenie.
The young girl watched her cousin as he cut his
sippets, with as much pleasure as a grisette takes in a
melodrama where innocence and virtue triumph. Charles,
brought up by a charming mother, improved and trained
by a woman of fashion, had the elegant, dainty, fop¬
pish movements of a coxcomb. The compassionate
sympathy and tenderness of a young girl possess a
power that is actually magnetic ; so that Charles, find¬
ing himself the object of the attentions of his aunt and
cousin, could not escape the influence of feelings which
flowed towards him, as it were, and inundated him. He
gave Eugenie a bright, caressing look full of kindness,
— a look which seemed itself a smile. He perceived,
as his eyes lingered upon her, the exquisite harmony
of features in the pure face, the grace of her innocent
attitude, the magic clearness of the ej'es, where young
love sparkled and desire shone unconsciously.
"Ah! my dear cousin, if 3*011 were in full dress at
the Opera, I assure you my aunt's words would come
106 Eugenie Grandet.
true,—you would make the men commit the mortal
sin of envy, and the women the sin of jealous}7."
The compliment went to Eugenie's heart and set it
beating, though she did not understand its meaning.
" Oh! cousin," she said, "you are laughing at a poor
little country girl."
" If you knew me, my cousin, you would know that
I abhor ridicule ; it withers the heart and jars upon all
my feelings." Here he swallowed his buttered sippet
very gracefully. "No, I really have not enough mind
to make fun of others; and doubtless it is a great
defect. In Paris, when they want to disparage a man,
they say : ' He has a good heart.' The phrase means :
' The poor fellow is as stupid as a rhinoceros.' But as
I am rich, and known to hit the bull's-eye at thirty
paces with any kind of pistol, and even in the open
fields, ridicule respects me."
" My dear nephew, that bespeaks a good heart."
" You have a very pretty ring," said Eugenie ; "is
there any harm in asking to see it ? "
Charles held out his hand after loosening the ling,
and Eugenie blushed as she touched the pink nails of
her cousin with the tips of her fingers.
" See, mamma, what beautiful workmanship."
" My ! there's a lot of gold ! " said Nauon, bringing
in the coffee.
" "What is that?" exclaimed Charles, laughing, as ho
Eugenie Grandet.
107
pointed to an oblong pot of brown earthenware, glazed
on the inside, and edged with a fringe of ashes, from
the bottom of which the coffee-grounds were bubbling
up and falling in the boiling liquid.
" It is boiled coffee," said Nanon.
'' Ah! my dear aunt, I shall at least leave one
beneficent trace of my visit here. You are indeed
behind the age ! I must teach you to make good coffee
in a Chaptal coffee-pot."
He tried to explain the process of a Chaptal coffee¬
pot.
"Gracious! if there are so many things as all that
to do," said Nanon, " we may as well give up our lives
to it. I shall never make coffee that way ; I know that!
Pray, who is to get the fodder for the cow while I make
the coffee ?"
" I will make it," said Eugenie.
"Child!" said Madame Grandet, looking at her
daughter.
The word recalled to their minds the sorrow that was
about to fall upon the unfortunate young man; the
three women were silent, and looked at him with an air
of commiseration that caught his attention.
" Is anything the matter, my cousin? ;; he said.
"Ilush!" said Madame Grandet to Eugenie, who
was about to answer; "you know, 1113'daughter, that
your lather charged us not to speak to monsieur — "
108 Eugenie Grandet.
" Say Charles," said young Grandet.
"Ah! you are called Charles? What a beautiful
name ! " cried Eugenie.
Presentiments of evil are almost always justified.
At this moment Nanon, Madame Grandet, and Eugenie,
who had all three been thinking with a shudder of the
old man's return, heard the knock whose echoes they
knew but too well.
" There's papa! " said Eugenie.
She removed the saucer filled with sugar, leaving
a few pieces on the table-cloth; Nanon carried off the
egg-cup; Madame Grandet sat up like a frightened
hare. It was evidently a panic, which amazed Charles,
who was wholly unable to understand it.
" Why! what is the matter? " he asked.
' • My father has come," answered Eugenie.
" Well, what of that? "
Monsieur Grandet entered the room, threw his keen
eye upon the table, upon Charles, and saw the whole
thing.
" Ha ! ha ! so you have been making a feast for 3Tour
nephew; very good, very good, very good indeed!"
he said, without stuttering. '' When the cat's away,
the mice will play."
"Feast!" thought Charles, incapable of suspecting
or imagining the rules and customs of the household.
" Give me my glass, Nanon," said the master.
Eugenie Crrandet. 109
Eugenie brought the glass. Grandet drew a horn-
handled knife with a big blade from his breeches'
pocket, cut a slice of bread, took a small bit of butter,
spread it carefully on the bread, and ate it standing.
At this moment Charles was sweetening his coffee.
Pere Grandet saw the bits of sugar, looked at his wife,
who turned pale, and made three steps forward; he
leaned down to the poor woman's ear and said, —
" "Where did you get all that sugar?"
" Nanon fetched it from Fessard's ; there was none."
It is impossible to picture the profound interest the
three women took in this mute scene. Nanon had left
her kitchen and stood looking into the room to see what
would happen. Charles, having tasted his coffee, found
it bitter and glanced about for the sugar, which Grandet
had already put away.
"What do you want? " said his uncle.
" The sugar."
"Put in more milk," answered the master of the
house; "your coffee will taste sweeter."
Eugenie took the saucer which Grandet had put
away and placed it on the table, looking calmly at
her father as she did so. Most assuredly, the Parisian
woman who held a silken ladder with her feeble arms
to facilitate the flight of her lover, showed no greater
courage than Eugenie displayed when she replaced the
sugar upon the table. The lover rewarded his mistress
8
110 Eugenie Grandet.
when she proudly showed him her beautiful bruised arm,
and bathed every swollen vein with tears and kisses
till it was cured with happiness. Charles, on the other
hand, never so much as knew the secret of the cruel
agitation that shook and bruised the heart of his cousin,
crushed as it was by the look of the old miser.
" You are not eating your breakfast, wife."
The poor helot came forward with a piteous look, cut
herself a piece of bread, and took a pear. Eugenie
boldly offered her father some grapes, saying, —
"Taste my preserves, papa. My cousin, you will
eat some, will you not? I went to get these pretty
grapes expressly for 3Tou."
" If no one stops them, they will pillage Saumur for
you, nephew. When you have finished, we will go
into the garden; I have something to tell you which
can't be sweetened."
Eugenie and her mother cast a look on Charles whose
meaning the young man could not mistake.
"What is it you mean, uncle? Since the death of
my poor mother " — at these words his voice softened —
" no other sorrow can touch me."
" My nephew, who knows by what afflictions God is
pleased to try us ? " said his aunt.
" Ta, ta, ta, ta," said Grandet, " there's your non¬
sense beginning. I am sorry to" see those white hands
of yours, nephew;" and he showed the shoulder-of-
Eugenie (xrandet.
Ill
mutton fists which Nature had put at the end of his
own arms. "There's a pair of hands made to pick
up silver pieces. You 've been brought up to put your
feet in the kid out of which we make the purses we
keep our money in. A bad look-out! Very bad! "
"What do you mean, uncle? I'll be hanged if I
understand a single word of what you are saying."
" Come! " said Grandet.
The miser closed the blade of his knife with a
snap, drank the last of his wine, and opened the
door.
" My cousin, take courage!"
The tone of the young girl struck terror to Charles's
heart, and he followed his terrible uncle, a prey to dis¬
quieting thoughts. Eugenie, her mother, and Nanon
went into the kitchen, moved by irresistible curiosity
to watch the two actors in the scene which was about
to take place in the garden, where at first the uncle
walked silently ahead of the nephew. Grandet was not
at all troubled at having to tell Charles of the death of
his father; but he did feel a sort of compassion in
knowing him to be without a penny, and he sought for
some phrase or formula by which to soften the com¬
munication of that cruel truth. " You have lost 3'our
father" seemed to him a mere nothing to say ; fathers
die before their children. But " you are absolutely
without means," — all the misfortunes of life were
112 Eugenie Grandet.
summed up in those words! Grandet walked round
the garden three times, the gravel crunching under
his heavy step.
In the crucial moments of life our minds fasten upon
the locality where joys or sorrows overwhelm us.
Charles noticed with minute attention the box-borders
of the little garden, the yellow leaves as they fluttered
down, the dilapidated walls, the gnarled fruit-trees, —
picturesque details which were destined to remain for¬
ever in his memory, blending eternally, by the mnemon¬
ics that belong exclusively to the passions, with the
recollections of this solemn hour.
" It is very fine weather, very warm," said Grandet,
drawing a long breath.
"Yes, uncle ; but why — "
" Well, my lad," answered his uncle, " I have some
bad news to give you. Your father is ill — "
"Then why am I here?" said Charles. " Nanon,"
he cried, '' order post-horses! I can get a carriage
somewhere ?" he added, turning to his uncle, who
stood motionless.
"Horses and carriages are useless," answered Gran¬
det, looking at Charles, who remained silent, his eyes
growing fixed. "Yes, my poor boy, you guess the
truth, — he is dead. But that's nothing; there is
something worse : he blew out his brains."
'' My father! "
Eugenie Grandet.
113
"Yes, but that's not the worst; the newspapers
are all talking about it. Here, read that."
Grandet, who had borrowed the fatal article from
Cruchot, thrust the paper under his nephew's eyes.
The poor young man, still a child, still at an age when
feelings wear no mask, burst into tears.
"That's good !" thought Grandet; "his eyes fright¬
ened me. He'll be all right if he weeps. — That is
not the worst, my poor nephew," he said aloud, not
noticing whether Charles heard him, "that is nothing;
you will get over it: but — "
" Never, never! My father! Oh, my father! "
'' He has ruined you, you have n't a penny."
"What does that matter? My father! Where is
my father ? "
His sobs resounded horribly against those dreary
walls and reverberated in the echoes. The three wo¬
men, filled with pity, wept also; for tears are often
as contagious as laughter. Charles, without listening
further to his uncle, ran through the court and up the
staircase to his chamber, where he threw himself across
the bed and hid his face in the sheets, to weep in peace
for his lost parents.
" The first burst must have its way," said Grandet,
entering the living-room, where Eugenie and her mother
had hastily resumed their seats and were sewing with
trembling hands, after wiping their eyes. "But that
114 EugSnie Grandet.
3Toung man is good for nothing; his head is more taken
up with the dead than with his money."
Eugenie shuddered as she heard her father's comment
on the most sacred of all griefs. From that moment
she began to judge him. Charles's sobs, though muf¬
fled, still sounded through the sepulchral house; and
his deep groans, which seemed to come from the earth
beneath, only ceased towards evening, after growing
gradually feebler.
'' Poor young man !" said Madame Grandet.
Fatal exclamation! Pere Grandet looked at his
wife, at Eugenie, and at the sugar-bowl. He recol¬
lected the extraordinary breakfast prepared for the
unfortunate youth, and he took a position in the
middle of the room.
" Listen to me," he said, with his usual composure.
" I hope that you will not continue this extravagance,
Madame Grandet. I don't give you my money to stuff
that young fellow with sugar."
" My mother had nothing to do with it," said Euge¬
nie ; "it was I who —"
"Is it because you are of age," said Grandet, inter¬
rupting his daughter, '' that 3'ou choose to contradict
me? Remember, Eugenie — "
"Father, the son of 3Tour brother ought to receive
from us — "
" Ta, ta, ta, ta! " exclaimed the cooper on four
Eugenie Grrandet.
115
chromatic tones; "the son of my brother this, my
nephew that! Charles is nothing at all to us; he
has n't a farthing, his father has failed; and when this
dandy has cried his fill, off he goes from here. I won't
have him revolutionize my household."
" What is ' failing,' father? " asked Eugenie.
" To fail," answered her father, " is to commit the
most dishonorable action that can disgrace a man."
"It must be a great sin," said Madame Grandet,
" and our brother may be damned."
" There, there, don't begin with your litanies !" said
Grandet, shrugging his shoulders. " To fail, Eugenie,"
he resumed, "is to commit a theft which the law,
unfortunately, takes under its protection. People have
given their property to Guillaume Grandet trusting to
his reputation for honor and integrity; he has made
away with it all, and left them nothing but their eyes to
weep with. A highway robber is better than a bank¬
rupt : the one attacks you and you can defend yourself,
he risks his own life ; but the other — in short, Charles
is dishonored."
The words rang in the poor girl's heart and weighed
it clown with their heavy meaning. Upright and deli¬
cate as a flower born in the depths of a forest, she
knew nothing of the world's maxims, of its deceitful
arguments and specious sophisms; she therefore
believed the atrocious explanation which her father
116 Eugenie Grandet.
gave her designedly, concealing the distinction which
exists between an involuntary failure and an intentional
one.
" Father, could you not have prevented such a mis¬
fortune ? "
" My brother did not consult me. Besides, he owes
four millions."
"What is a 'million,' father?" she asked, with the
simplicity of a child which thinks it can find out at once
all that it wants to know.
"A million?" said Grandet, " why, it is a million
pieces of twenty sous each, and it takes five twenty-
sous pieces to make five francs."
" Dear me ! " cried Eugenie, " how could my uncle
possibly have had four millions? Is there any one
else in France who ever had so many millions ? " Pere
Grandet stroked his chin, smiled, and his wen seemed
to dilate. " But what will become of my cousin
Charles?"
" He is going off to the West Indies by his father's
request, and he will try to make his fortune there."
" bias he got the money to go with?"
'' I shall pay for his journey as far as — yes, as
far as Nantes."
Eugenie sprang into his arms.
" Oh, father, how good you are !"
She kissed him with a warmth that almost made
EugSnie Gfrandet.
117
Grandet ashamed of himself, for his conscience galled
him a little.
"Will it take much time to amass a million ?" she
asked.
" Look here ! " said the old miser, " you know what
a napoleon is? Well, it takes fifty thousand napoleons
to make a million."
"Mamma, we must say a great many neuvciines for
him."
" I was thinking so," said Madame Grandet.
"That's the wa}T, always spending my money!"
cried the father. "Do you think there are francs on
every hush? "
At this moment a muffled cry, more distressing than
all the others, echoed through the garrets and struck
a chill to the hearts of Eugenie and her mother.
"Nanon, go upstairs and see that he docs not
kill himself," said Grandet. "Now, then," he added,
looking at his wife and daughter, who had turned pale
at his words, " no nonsense, you two! I must leave
you; I have got to see about the Dutchmen who are
going away to-da}'. And then I must find Cruchot,
and talk with him about all this."
He departed. As soon as he had shut the door
Eugenie and her mother breathed more freel}-. Until
this morning the j'oung girl had never felt constrained
in the presence of her father; but for the last few
118 EugSnie Grandet.
hours every moment wrought a change in her feelings
and ideas.
"Mamma, how many louis are there in a cask of
wine ? "
"Your father sells his from a hundred to a hundred
and fifty francs, sometimes two hundred, — at least, so
I've heard say."
" Then papa must be rich?"
" Perhaps he is. But Monsieur Cruchot told me
he bought Froidfond two years ago; that may have
pinched him."
Eugenie, not being able to understand the ques¬
tion of her father's fortune, stopped short in her
calculations.
" He did n't even see me, the darling ! " said Nanon,
coming back from her errand. "He's stretched out
like a calf on his bed and crying like the Madeleine,
and that's a blessing! What's the matter with the
poor dear young man?"
"Let us go and console him, mamma; if any one
knocks, we can come down."
Madame Grandet was helpless against the sweet per¬
suasive tones of her daughter's voice. Eugenie was
sublime: she had become a woman. The two, with
beating hearts, went up to Charles's room. The door
was open. The young man heard and saw nothing;
plunged in grief, he only uttered inarticulate cries.
Eugenie Grandet.
119
" How he loves his father! " said Eugenie in a low
voice.
In the utterance of those words it was impossible
to mistake the hopes of a heart that, unknown to itself,
had suddenly become passionate. Madame Grandet
cast a mother's look upon her daughter, and then
whispered in her ear, —
" Take care, you will love him ! "
" Love him!" answered Eugenie. " Ah ! if you did
but know what my father said to Monsieur Cruchot."
Charles turned over, and saw his aunt and cousin.
'' I have lost my father, my poor father ! If he had
told me his secret troubles we might have worked to¬
gether to repair them. My God ! my poor father ! I
was so sure I should see him again that I think I kissed
him quite coldly — "
Sobs cut short the words.
"We will pray for him," said Madame Grandet.
" Eesign yourself to the will of God."
" Cousin," said Eugenie, " take courage ! Your loss
is irreparable; therefore think only of saving your
honor."
With the delicate instinct of a woman who intui¬
tively puts her mind into all things, even at the mo¬
ment when she offers consolation, Eugenie sought
to cheat her cousin's grief by turning his thoughts
inward upon himself.
120 Ev genie Grandet.
"My honor?" exclaimed the young man, tossing
aside his hair with an impatient gesture as he sat up
on his bed and crossed his arms. "Ah! that is true.
My uncle said my father had failed." He uttered a
heart-rending cry, and hid his face in his hands.
'' Leave me, leave me, cousin! My God ! my God !
forgive my father, for he must have suffered sorely ! "
There was something terribly attractive in the sight
of this young sorrow, sincere without reasoning or after¬
thought. It was a virgin grief which the simple hearts
of Eugenie and her mother were fitted to comprehend,
and they obej-ed the sign Charles made them to leave
him to himself. They went downstairs in silence and
took their accustomed places by the window and sewed
for nearly an hour without exchanging a word. Euge¬
nie had seen in the furtive glance she cast about the
young man's room — that girlish glance which sees all
in the twinkling of an eye — the pretty trifles of his
dressing-case, his scissors, his razors embossed with
gold. This gleam of luxury across her cousin's grief
only made him the more interesting to her, possibly by
way of contrast. Never before had so serious an eveut,
so dramatic a sight, touched the imaginations of these
two passive beings, hitherto sunk in the stillness and
calm of solitude.
" Mamma," said Eugenie, "we must wear mourning
for my uncle."
Eugenie Grandet.
121
" Your father will decide that," answered Madame
Grandet.
They relapsed into silence. Eugenie drew her stitches
with a uniform motion which revealed to an observer
the teeming thoughts of her meditation. The first
desire of the girl's heart was to share her cousin's
mourning.
122
Eugenie Grandet.
YI.
About four o'clock an abrupt knock at the door
struck sharply on the heart of Madame Grandet.
" What can have happened to your father? " she said
to her daughter.
Grandet entered joyously. After taking off his
gloves, he rubbed his hands hard enough to take off
their skin as well, if his epidermis had not been tanned
and cured like Russia leather,—saving, of course, the
perfume of larch-trees and incense. Presently his
secret escaped him.
"Wife," he said, without stuttering, "I've trapped
them all! Our wine is sold! The Dutch and the
Belgians have gone. I walked about the market-place
in front of their inn, pretending to be doing nothing.
That Belgian fellow — you know who I mean — came up
to me. The owners of all the good vineyards have kept
back their vintages, intending to wait; well, I did n't
hinder them. The Belgian was in despair; I saw that.
In a minute the bargain was made. He takes my
vintage at two hundred francs the puncheon, half down.
He paid me in gold; the notes are drawn. Here are
EugSnie Grandet. 123
six louis for you. In three months wines will have
fallen."
These words, uttered in a quiet tone of voice, were
nevertheless so bitterly sarcastic that the inhabitants
of Saumur, grouped at this moment in the market-place
and overwhelmed by the news of the sale Grandet had
just effected, would have shuddered had they heard
them. Their panic would have brought the price of
wines down fifty per cent at once.
"Did you have a thousand puncheons this year,
father?"
"Yes, little one."
That term applied to his daughter was_the superlative
expression of the old miser's joy.
"Then that makes two hundred thousand pieces of
twenty sous each ? "
"Yes, Mademoiselle Grandet."
" Then, father, you can easily help Charles."
The amazement, the anger, the stupefaction of Bel-
shazzar when he saw the Mene-TeJcel-Uphcirsin before
his eyes is not to be compared with the cold rage of
Grandet, who, having forgotten his nephew, now found
him enshrined in the heart and calculations of his
daughter.
" What's this? Ever since that dandy put foot in my
house everything goes wrong! You behave as if you
had the right to buy sugar-plums and make feasts and
124 Eugenie Grandet.
weddings. I won't have that sort of thing. I hope
I know my duty at my time of life ! I certainly sha'n't
take lessons from my daughter, or from anybody else.
I shall do for my nephew what it is proper to do, and
you have no need to poke your nose into it. As for
you, Eugenie," he added, facing her, " don't speak of
this again, or I '11 send you to the Abbaye des Noyers
with Nanon, see if I don't; and no later than to-morrow
either, if you disobey me! Where is that fellow, has
he come down yet ? "
" No, my friend," answered Madame Grandet.
'' What is he doing then ? "
" He is weeping for his father," said Eugenie.
Grandet looked at his daughter without finding a
word to say; after all, he was a father. He made a
couple of turns up and down the room, and then went
hurriedly to his secret den to think over an investment
he was meditating in the public Funds. The thinning
out of liis two thousand acres of forest land had yielded
him six hundred thousand francs : putting this sum to
that derived from the sale of his poplars and to his other
gains for the last year and for the current year, he had
amassed a total of nine hundred thousand francs, with¬
out counting the two hundred thousand he had got by
the sale just concluded. The twenty per cent which
Cruchot assured him he would gain in a «hort time from
the Funds, then quoted at seventy, tempted him. He
Eugenie Grandet.
125
figured out his calculation on the margin of the news¬
paper which gave the account of his brother's death,
all the while hearing the moans of his nephew, but with¬
out listening to them. Nanon came and knocked on
the wall to summon him to dinner. On the last step
of the staircase he was saying to himself as he came
down,—
"I'll doit; I shall get eight percent interest. In
two years I shall have fifteen hundred thousand francs,
which I will then draw out in good gold. — Well,
where's my nephew ? "
"He says he doesn't want anything to eat," an¬
swered Nanon ; "that's not good for him."
'' So much saved," retorted her master.
" That's so," she said.
" Bah! he won't cry long. Hunger drives the wolves
out of the woods."
The dinner was eaten in silence.
" My good friend," said Madame Grandet, when the
cloth was removed, " we must put on mourning."
"Upon my word, Madame Grandet! what will you
invent next to spend money on? Mourning is in the
heart, and not in the clothes."
"But mourning for a brother is indispensable ; and
the Church commands us to — "
"Bu3r j'our mourning out of 3'our six louis. Give
me a hat-band; that's enough for me."
9
126 Eugenie Crrandet.
Eugenie raised her eyes to heaven without uttering
a word. Her generous instincts, slumbering and long
repressed but now suddenly and for the first time awak¬
ened, were galled at every turn. The evening passed
to all appearance like a thousand other evenings of
their monotonous life, yet it was certainly the most
horrible. Eugenie sewed without raising her head,
and did not use the workbox which Charles had de¬
spised the night before. Madame Grandet knitted her
sleeves. Grandet twirled his thumbs for four hours,
absorbed in calculations whose results were on the
morrow to astonish Saumur. No one came to visit
the family that day. The whole town was ringing with
the news of the business trick just played by Grandet,
the failure of his brother, and the arrival of his nephew.
Obeying the desire to gossip over their mutual inter¬
ests, all the upper and middle class wine-growers in
Saumur met at Monsieur des Grassins, where terrible
imprecations were being fulminated against the ex-
mayor. Nanon was spinning, and the whirr of her
wheel was the only sound heard beneath the gray
rafters of that silent hall.
" We don't waste our tongues," she said, showing
her teeth, as large and white as peeled almonds.
"Nothing should be wasted," answered Grandet,
rousing himself from his revery. He saw a perspective
of eight millions in three years, and he was sailing
EugSnie Cfrandet.
127
along that sheet of gold. " Let us go to bed. I will
bid my nephew good-night for the rest of you, and see
if he will take anything."
Madame Grandet remained on the landing of the
first storey to hear the conversation that was about to
take place between the goodman and his nephew. Eu¬
genie, bolder than her mother, went up two stairs.
"Well, nephew, you are in trouble. Yes, weep,
that's natural. A father is a father; but we must bear
our troubles patiently. I am a good uncle to you, re¬
member that. Come, take courage! Will you have a
little glass of wine ? " (Wine costs nothing in Saumur,
and they offer it as tea is offered in China.) " Why! "
added Grandet, " you have got no light! That's bad,
very bad; you ought to see what you are about," and
he walked to the chimney-piece. "What's this?" he
cried. " A wax candle ! How the devil did they filch
a wax candle ? The spendthrifts would tear down the
ceilings of my house to boil the fellow's eggs."
Hearing these words, mother and daughter slipped
back into their rooms and burrowed in their beds, with
the celerity of frightened mice getting back to their
holes.
"Madame Grandet, have you found a mine?"said
the man, coming into the chamber of his wife.
" My friend, wait; I am saying my prayers," said
the poor mother in a trembling voice.
128 EugSnie Crrandet.
" The devil take your good God ! " growled Grandet
in reply.
Misers have 110 belief in a future life: the present
is their all in all. This thought casts a terrible light
upon our present epoch, in which, far more than at any
former period, money sways the laws and politics and
morals. Institutions, books, men, and dogmas, all con¬
spire to undermine belief in a future life,—a belief upon
which the social edifice has rested for eighteen hundred
years. The grave, as a means of transition, is little
feared in our day. The future, which once opened to us
bej^ond the requiems, has now been imported into the
present. To obtain per fas et nefas a terrestrial para¬
dise of luxury and earthly enjoyment, to harden the
heart and macerate the body for the sake of fleeting
possessions, as the martyrs once suffered all things to
reach eternal joys, this is now the universal thought —
a thought written everywhere, even in the very laws
which ask of the legislator, "What do you pay?" in¬
stead of asking him, "What do you think?" When
this doctrine has passed down from the bourgeoisie to
the populace, where will this country be?
'' Madame Grandet, have you done ? " asked the old
man.
" My friend, I am praying for you."
"Very good! Good-night; to-morrow morning we
will have a talk! "
Eugenie Grandet.
129
The poor woman went to sleep like a schoolboy who,
not having learned his lessons, knows he will see his
master's angry face on the morrow. At the moment
when, filled with fear, she was drawing the sheet above
her head that she might stifle hearing, Eugenie, in her
night-gown and with naked feet, ran to her side and
kissed her brow.
" Oh ! my good mother," she said, " to-morrow I will
tell him it was I. "
" No; he would send you to Noyers. Leave me to
manage it; he cannot eat me."
"Do you hear, mamma? "
"What?"
" He is weeping still."
"Go to bed, my daughter; you will take cold in
your feet: the floor is damp."
Thus passed the solemn day which was destined to
weigh upon the whole life of the rich and poor heiress,
whose sleep was never again to be so calm, nor yet so
pure, as it had been up to this moment. It often hap¬
pens that certain actions of human life seem, literally
speaking, improbable, though actual. Is not this be¬
cause we constantly omit to turn the stream of psy¬
chologic light upon our impulsive determinations, and
fail to explain the subtile reasons, mysterious!)' con¬
ceived in our minds, which impelled them? Perhaps
130 Eugenie Grandet.
Eugenie's deep passion should be analyzed in its most
delicate fibres ; for it became, scoffers might say, a mal¬
ady which influenced her whole existence. Many people
prefer to deny results rather than estimate the force of
ties and links and bonds, which secretly join one fact
to another in the moral order. Here, therefore, Euge¬
nie's past life will offer to observers of human nature
an explanation of her naive want of reflection and the
suddenness of the emotions which overflowed her soul.
The more tranquil her life had been, the more vivid was
her womanly pity, the more simple-minded were the
sentiments now developed in her soul.
Made restless by the events of the day, she woke at
intervals to listen to her cousin, thinking she heard the
sighs which still echoed in her heart. Sometimes she
saw him dying of his trouble, sometimes she dreamed
that he fainted from hunger. Towards morning
she was certain that she heard a startling ciy. She
dressed at once and ran, in the dawning light, with a
swift foot to her cousin's chamber, the door of which he
had left open. The candle had burned down to the
socket. Charles, overcome b}T nature, was sleeping,
dressed and sitting in an armchair beside the bed, on
Avliich his head rested; he dreamed as men dream 011
an empty stomach. Eugenie might weep at her ease ;
she might admire the young and handsome face blotted
with grief, the eyes swollen with weeping, that seemed,
Eugenie Grandet.
131
sleeping as they were, to well forth tears. Charles felt
sympathetically the young girl's presence; he opened
his eyes and saw her pitying him.
"Pardon me, my cousin," he said, evidently not
knowing the hour nor the place in which he found him¬
self.
"There are hearts who hear you, cousin, and we
thought you might need something. You should go to
bed ; you tire yourself by sitting thus."
" That is true."
"Well, then, adieu!"
She escaped, ashamed and happy at having gone
there. Innocence alone can dare to be so bold. Once
enlightened, virtue makes her calculations as well as
vice. Eugenie, who had not trembled beside her cousin,
could scarcely stand upon her legs when she regained
her chamber. Her ignorant life had suddenly come to
an end; she reasoned, she rebuked herself with many
reproaches.
" What will lie think of me? He will think that I
love him!"
That was what she most wished him to think. An
honest love has its own prescience, and knows that
love begets love. What an event for this poor solitary
girl thus to have entered the chamber of a young man!
Are there not thoughts and actions in the life of love
which to certain souls bear the full meaning of the
132 Eugenie Grandet.
holiest espousals? An hour later she went to her
mother and dressed her as usual. Then they both
came down and sat in their places before the window
waiting for Grandet, with that cruel anxiety which,
according to the individual character, freezes the heart
or warms it, shrivels or dilates it, when a scene is
feared, a punishment expected,—a feeling so natural
that even domestic animals possess it, and whine at the
slightest pain of punishment, though they make no
outcry when they inadvertently hurt themselves. The
goodman came down ; but he spoke to his wife with an
absent manner, kissed Eugenie, and sat down to table
without appearing to remember his threats of the night
before.
'' What has become of my nephew ? The lad gives
no trouble."
" Monsieur, he is asleep," answered Nanon.
" So much the better ; he won't want a wax candle,"
said Grandet in a jeering tone.
This unusual clemency, this bitter gayety, struck Ma¬
dame Grandet with amazement, and she looked at her
husband attentively. The goodman — here it may be
well to explain that in Touraine, Anjou, Poitou, and
Bretagne the word "goodman," already used to desig¬
nate Grandet, is bestowed as often upon harsh and cruel
men as upon those of kindly temperament, when either
have reached a certain age; the title means nothing
Eugenie Grandet.
133
oil the score of individual gentleness — the goodman
took his hat and gloves, saying as he went out, —
"lam going to loiter about the market-place and
find Cruchot."
"Eugenie, your father certainly has something on
his mind."
Grandet, who was a poor sleeper, employed half his
nights in the preliminary calculations which gave such
astonishing accuracy to his views and observations and
schemes, and secured to them the unfailing success at
sight of which his townsmen stood amazed. All hu¬
man power is a compound of time and patience. Pow¬
erful beings will and wait. The life of a miser is the
constant exercise of human power put to the service of
self. It rests on two sentiments only, — self-love and
self-interest; but self-interest being to a certain ex¬
tent compact and intelligent self-love, the visible sign
of real superiority, it follows that self-love and self-
interest are two parts of the same whole, — egotism.
From this arises, perhaps, the excessive curiosity shown
in the habits of a miser's life whenever the}7 are put
before the world. Every nature holds by a thread to
those beings who challenge all human sentiments by
concentrating all in one passion. Where is the man
without desire ? and what social desire can be satisfied
without money ?
Grandet unquestionably "had something on his
134 Eugenie G-randet.
mind," to use bis wife's expression. There was in him,
as in all misers, a persistent craving to play a commer¬
cial game with other men and win their mone}7 legally.
To impose upon other people was to him a sign of
power, a perpetual proof that he had won the right to
despise those feeble beings who suffer themselves to be
preyed upon in this world. Oh! who has ever truly un¬
derstood the lamb lying peacefully at the feet of God ?
— touching emblem of all terrestrial victims, myth of
their future, suffering and weakness glorified! This
lamb it is which the miser fattens, puts in his fold,
slaughters, cooks, eats, and then despises. The pasture
of misers is compounded of money and disdain. During
the night Grandet's ideas had taken another course,
which was the reason of his sudden clemency. He had
hatched a plot by which to trick the Parisians, to decoy
and dupe and snare them, to drive them into a trap,
and make them go and come and sweat and hope and
turn pale,—a plot by which to amuse himself, the old
provincial cooper, sitting there beneath his gloomy raft¬
ers, or passing up and down the rotten staircase of his
house in Saumur. His nephew filled his mind. He
wished to save the honor of his dead brother without
the cost of a penny to the son or to himself. His own
funds he was about to invest for three years; he had
therefore nothing further to do than to manage his
property in Saumur. He needed some nutriment for his
Eugenie Grandet.
185
malicious activity, and lie found it suddenly in his
brother's failure. Feeling nothing to squeeze between
his own paws, he resolved to crush the Parisians in be¬
half of Charles, and to play the part of a good brother
on the cheapest terms. The honor "of the family
counted for so little in this scheme that his good inten¬
tions might be likened to the interest a gambler takes
in seeing a game well played in which he has no stake.
The Cruchots were a necessary part of his plan; but
he would not seek them, —he resolved to make them
come to him, and to lead up that very evening to
a comedy whose plot he had just conceived, which
should make him on the morrow an object of admira¬
tion to the whole town without its costing him a single
penny.
In her father's absence Eugenie had the happiness
of busying herself openly with her much-loved cousin,
of spending upon him fearlessly the treasures of her
pity, — woman's sublime superiority, the sole she de¬
sires to have recognized, the sole she pardons man for
letting her assume. Three or four times the young girl
went to listen to her cousin's breathing, to know if he
were sleeping or awake; then, when he had risen, she
turned her thoughts to the cream, the eggs, the fruits,
the plates, the glasses, — all that was a part of his
breakfast became the object of some special care. At
length she ran lightly up the old staircase to listen to
1S6 Eugenie Grandet.
the noise lier cousin made. Was he dressing? Did he
still weep? She reached the door.
" My cousin ! "
" Yes, cousin."
" Will you breakfast downstairs, or in your room? "
" Where you like."
'' How do you feel ? "
" Dear cousin, I am ashamed of being hungiy."
This conversation, held through the closed door, was
like an episode in a poem to Eugenie.
"Well, then, we will bring your breakfast to your
own room, so as not to annoy my father."
She ran to the kitchen with the swiftness and light¬
ness of a bird.
" Nanon, go and do his room !"
That staircase, so often traversed, which echoed to
the slightest noise, now lost its decaj'ing aspect in the
eyes of Eugenie. It grew luminous ; it had a voice and
spoke to her; it was young like herself, — young like
the love it was now serving. Her mother, her kind,
indulgent mother, lent herself to the caprices of the
child's love, and after the room was put in order, both
went to sit with the unhappy youth and keep him com¬
pany. Does not Christian charity make consolation a
duty ? The two women drew a goodly number of little
sophistries from their religion wherewith to justify
their conduct. Charles was made the object of the
EugSnie Grandet.
137
tenderest and most loving care. His saddened heart
felt the sweetness of the gentle friendship, the exquisite
sympathy which these two souls, crushed under perpet¬
ual restraint, knew so well how to display when, for
an instant, they were left unfettered in the regions of
suffering, their natural sphere.
Claiming the right of relationship, Eugenie began to
fold the linen and put in order the toilet articles which
Charles had brought; thus she could marvel at her ease
over each luxurious bauble and the various knick-
knacks of silver or chased gold, which she held long in
her hand under a pretext of examining them. Charles
could not see without emotion the generous interest his
aunt and cousin felt in him; he knew society in Paris
well enough to feel assured that, placed as he now was,
he would find all hearts indifferent or cold. Eugenie
thus appeared to him in the splendor of a special
beauty, and from thenceforth he admired the innocence
of life and manners which the previous evening he
had been inclined to ridicule. So when Eugenie took
from Nanon the bowl of coffee and cream, and began
to pour it out for her cousin with the simplicity of
real feeling, giving him a kindly glance, the eyes of
the Parisian filled with tears; he took her hand and
kissed it.
" What troubles you ?" she said.
" Oh ! these are tears of gratitude," he answered.
138 Eugenie Grandet.
Eugenie turned abruptly to the chimne}T-piece to take
the candlesticks.
"Here, Nanon, carry them away ! " she said.
When she looked again towards her cousin she was
still blushing, but her looks could at least deceive, and
did not betray the excess of joy which inundated her
heart; yet the eyes of both expressed the same senti¬
ment as their souls flowed together in one thought, — the
future was theirs. This soft emotion was all the more
precious to Charles in the midst of his heavy grief be¬
cause it was wholly unexpected. The sound of the
knocker recalled the women to their usual station.
Happily they were able to run downstairs with sufficient
rapidity to be seated at their work when Grandet en¬
tered ; had he met theih under the archway it would
have been enough to rouse his suspicions. After
breakfast, which the goodman took standing, the
keeper from Froidfrond, to whom the promised in¬
demnity had never yet been paid, made his appear¬
ance, bearing a hare and some partridges shot in the
park, with eels and two pike sent as tribute by the
millers.
"Ha, ha! poor Cornoiller; here he comes, like fish
in Lent. Is all that fit to eat? "
" Yes, my dear, generous master; it has been killed
two days."
"Come, Nanon, bestir yourself," said Grandet;
Eugenie Grandet. 139
"take these things, they'll do for dinner. I have
invited the two Cruchots."
Nanon opened her eyes, stupid with amazement, and
looked at everybody in the room.
" Well!" she said, "and how am I to get the lard
and the spices ? "
" Wife," said Grandet, " give Nanon six francs, and
remind me to get some of the good wine out of the
cellar."
"Well, then, Monsieur Grandet," said the keeper,
who had come prepared with an harangue for the pur¬
pose of settling the question of the indemnity, " Mon¬
sieur Grandet — "
" Ta, ta, ta, ta ! " said Grandet; "I know what you
want to say. You are a good fellow; we will see
about it to-morrow, I 'in too busy to-day. Wife,
give him five francs," he added to Madame Grandet as
he decamped.
The poor woman was only too happy to buy peace at
the cost of eleven francs. She knew that Grandet
would let her alone for a fortnight after he had thus
taken back, franc by franc, the money he had given
her.
" Here, Cornoiller," she said, slipping ten francs in¬
to the man's hand, " some day we will reward your
services."
Cornoiller could say nothing, so he went away.
140 Eugenie Grandet.
"Madame," said Nanon, who had put on her black
coif and taken her basket, "I want only three
francs. You keep the rest; it '11 go fast enough some¬
how."
" Have a good dinner, Nanon ; my cousin will come
down," said Eugenie.
" Something very extraordinary is going on, I am
certain of it," said Madame Grandet. " This is only
the third time since our marriage that your father has
given a dinner."
About four o'clock, just as Eugenie and her mother
had finished setting the table for six persons, and after
the master of the house had brought up a few bottles of
the exquisite wine which provincials cherish with true
affection, Charles came down into the hall. The young
fellow was pale ; his gestures, the expression of his face,
his glance, and the tones of his voice, all had a sadness
which was full of grace. He was not pretending grief,
he truly suffered; and the veil of pain cast over his
features gave him an interesting air dear to the heart of
women. Eugenie loved him the more for it. Perhaps
she felt that sorrow drew him nearer to her. Charles
was no longer the rich and distinguished young man
placed in a sphere far above her, but a relation plunged
into frightful misery. Misery begets equality. Women
have this in common with the angels, — suffering
Eugenie Grandet.
141
humanity belongs to them. Charles and Eugenie un¬
derstood each other and spoke only with their eyes;
for the poor fallen dandy, orphaned and impoverished,
sat apart in a corner of the room, and was proudly calm
and silent. Yet, from time to time, the gentle and ca¬
ressing glance of the young girl shone upon him and
constrained him away from his sad thoughts, drawing
him with her into the fields of hope and of futurity,
where she loved to hold him at her side.
lo
142
Eugenie Gfrandet.
VII.
At this moment the town of Saumur was more ex¬
cited about the dinner given by Grandet to the Cruchots
than it had been the night before at the sale of his
vintage, though that constituted a crime of high-treason
against the whole wine-growing community. If the
politic old miser had given his dinner from the same
idea that cost the dog of Alcibiades his tail, he might
perhaps have been called a great man ; but the fact is,
considering himself superior to a community which he
could trick on all occasions, he paid very little heed to
what Saumur might say.
The des Grassins soon learned the facts of the failure
and the violent death of Guillaume Grandet, and they
determined to go to their client's house that very even¬
ing to commiserate his misfortune and show him some
marks of friendship, with a view of ascertaining the
motives which had led him to invite the Cruchots to
dinner. At precisely five o'clock Monsieur C. de Bon-
fons and his uncle the notary arrived in their Sunday
clothes. The party sat down to table and began to
EugSnie (xrandet.
143
dine with good appetites. Grandet was grave, Charles
silent, Eugenie dumb, and Madame Grandet did not
say more than usual; so that the dinner was, very prop¬
erly, a repast of condolence. When they rose from
table Charles said to his aunt and uncle, —
'' Will you permit me to retire ? I am obliged to
undertake a long and painful correspondence."
"Certainly, nephew."
As soon as the goodman was certain that Charles
could hear nothing and was probably deep in his letter-
writing, he said, with a dissimulating glance at his
wife, —
'' Madame Grandet, what we have to talk about will
be Latin to you; it is half-past seven; you can go and
attend to your household accounts. Good-night, my
daughter."
He kissed Eugenie, and the two women departed.
A scene now took place in which Pere Grandet brought
to bear, more than at any other moment of his life, the
shrewd dexterity he had acquired in his intercourse
with men, and which had won him from those whose
flesh he sometimes bit too sharply the nickname of '' the
old dog." If the maj^or of Saumur had carried his
ambition higher still, if fortunate circumstances, draw¬
ing him towards the higher social spheres, had sent him
into congresses where the affairs of nations were dis¬
cussed, and had he there employed the genius with
144 Eugenie Grandet.
which his personal interests had endowed him, he
would undoubtedly have proved nobly useful to his na¬
tive land. Yet it is perhaps equally certain that outside
of Saumur the goodman would have cut a very sorry
figure. Possibly there are minds like certain animals
which cease to breed when transplanted from the
climates in which they are born.
'' M-m-mon-sieur le p-p-president, jTou said t-t-that
b-b-bankruptcy — "
The stutter which for years the old miser had as¬
sumed when it suited him, and which, together with
the deafness of which he sometimes complained in rainy
weather, was thought in Saumur to be a natural defect,
became at this crisis so wearisome to the two Cruchots
that while they listened they unconsciously made faces
and moved their lips, as if pronouncing the words over
which he was hesitating and stuttering at will. Here
it may be well to give the history of this impediment
to the speech and hearing of Monsieur Grandet. No
one in Anjou heard better, or could pronounce more
crisply the French language (with an Angevin accent)
than the wily old cooper. Some years earlier, in spite
of his shrewdness, he had been taken in by an Israelite,
who in the course of the discussion held his hand
behind his ear to catch sounds, and mangled his mean¬
ing so thoroughly in trying to utter his words that
Grandet fell a victim to his humanity and was com-
EugSnie Grandet.
145
pelled to prompt the wily Jew with the words and
ideas he seemed to seek, to complete himself the argu¬
ments of the said Jew, to say what that cursed Jew
ought to have said for himself; in short, to be the Jew
instead of being Grandet. When the cooper came out
of this curious encounter he had concluded the only
bargain of which in the course of a long commercial
life he ever had occasion to complain. But if he lost
at the time pecuniarily, he gained morally a valuable
lesson; later, he gathered its fruits. Indeed, the
goodman ended by blessing that Jew for having taught
him the art of irritating his commercial antagonist
and leading him to forget his own thoughts in his
impatience to suggest those over which his tormentor
was stuttering. No affair had ever needed the as¬
sistance of deafness, impediments of speech, and
all the incomprehensible circumlocutions with which
Grandet enveloped his ideas, as much as the affair
now in hand. In the first place, he did not mean
to shoulder the responsibility of his own scheme;
in the next, he was determined to remain master of
the conversation and to leave his real intentions in
doubt.
" M-m-monsieur de B-B-Bonfons," — for the second
time in three years Grandet called the Crucliot nephew
Monsieur de Bonfons; the president felt he might
consider himself the artful old fellow's son-in-law, —
146 Eugenie Grandet.
'' you-ou said th-th-that b-b-bankruptcy c-c-could, in
some c-c-cases, b-be p-p-prevented b-b-by — "
" By the courts of commerce themselves. It is done
constantly," said Monsieur C. de Bonfons, bestriding
Grandet's meaning, or thinking he guessed it, and kindly
wishing to help him out with it. " Listen."
" Y-yes," said Grandet humbly, with the mischievous
expression of a boy who is inwardly laughing at his
teacher while he pays him the greatest attention.
"When a man so respected and important as, for
example, your late brother— "
" M-my b-b-brother, yes."
" — is threatened with insolvencj" — "
" They c-c-call it in-ins-s-solvency ? "
"Yes; when his failure is imminent, the court of
commerce, to which he is amenable (please follow me
attentively), has the power, by a decree, to appoint
a receiver. Liquidation, you understand, is not the
same as failure. When a man fails, he is dishonored;
but when he merely liquidates, he remains an honest
man."
" T-t-that's very d-d-different, if it d-does n't c-c-cost
m-m-more," said Grandet.
" But a liquidation can be managed without having
recourse to the courts at all. For," said the president,
sniffing a pinch of snuff,'' don't you know how failures
are declared ?"
Eugenie Qrandet.
147
" N-n-no, I n-n-never t-t-thought," answered Gran-
det.
"In the first place," resumed the magistrate, "by
filing the schedule in the record office of the court,
which the merchant may do himself, or his representa¬
tive for him with a power of attorney duly certified. In
the second place, the failure may be declared under
compulsion from the creditors. Now if the merchant
does not file his schedule, and if no creditor appears
before the courts to obtain a decree of insolvency
against the merchant, what happens?"
'' W-w-what h-h-happens ? "
" Why, the family of the deceased, his representa¬
tives, his heirs, or the merchant himself, if he is not
dead, or his friends if he is only hiding, liquidate his
business. Perhaps you would like to liquidate your
brother's affairs ? "
"Ah! Grandet," said the notary, "that would be
the right thing to do. There is honor down here in the
provinces. If you save your name — for it is your
name — you will be a man — "
"A noble man!" cried the president, interrupting
his uncle.
" Certainly," answered the old man, " my b-b-broth-
er's name was G-G-Grandet, like m-m-mine. Th-that's
c-c-ccrtain; I d-d-don't d-d-deny it. And th-th-this
1-1-liquidation might be, in m-m-many ways, v-v-vcry
148 Eugenie Grandet.
advan-t-t-tageous t-t-to the interests of m-m-my
n-n-nephew, whom I 1-1-love. But I must consider. I
don't k-k-know the t-t-tricks of P-P-Paris. I b-h-helong
to Sau-m-mur, d-d-don't you see? M-m-my vines, my
d-d-drains — in short, I've my own h-b-husiness. I
never g-g-give n-n-notes. What are n-n-notes ? I t-t-take
a good m-m-many, but I have never s-s-signed one.
I d-d-don't understand such things. I have h-h-heard
say that n-n-notes c-c-can be b-b-bought up."
"Of course," said the president. "Notes can be
bought in the market, less so much per cent. Don't
you understand?"
Grandet made an ear-trumpet of his hand, and the
president repeated his words.
" Well, then," replied the old man, " there's s-s-some-
thing to be g-g-got out of it? I k-know n-nothing at
my age about such th-th-things. I 1-1-live here and
1-1-look after the v-v-vines. The vines g-g-grow, and
it's the w-w-wine that p-p-pays. L-l-look after the
v-v-vintage, t-t-that's my r-r-rule. My c-c-chief inter¬
ests are at Froidfond. I c-c-can't 1-1-leave my h-h-house
to m-m-muddle myself with a d-d-devilish b-b-business
I kn-know n-n-nothing about. You say I ought to
1-1-liquidate my b-b-brother's af-f-fairs, to p-p-prevent
the f-f-failure. I c-c-can't be in two p-p-places at
once, unless I were a little b-b-bird, and —"
" I understand," cried the notary. "Well, my old
EugSnie Grrandet.
149
friend, you have friends, old friends, capable of devot¬
ing themselves to your interests."
"All right!" thought Grandet, "make haste and
come to the point!"
" Suppose one of them went to Paris and saw your
brother Guillaume's chief creditor and said to him — "
" One m-m-moment," interrupted the goodman,
" said wh-wh-what ? Something 1-1-like th-this. Mon¬
sieur Gr-Grandet of Saumur this, Monsieur Grandet of
Saumur that. He 1-1-loves his b-b-brother, he loves
his n-nephew. Grandet is a g-g-good uncle; he
m-m-means well. He has sold his v-v-vintage. D-d don't
declare a f-f-failure ; c-c-call a meeting; 1-1-liquidate;
and then Gr-Gr-Grandet will see what he c-c-can do.
B-b-better liquidate than 1-let the 1-1-law st-st-stick its
n-n-nose in. Hein? isn't it so?"
" Exactly so," said the president.
"B-because, don't you see, Monsieur de B-Bonfons,
a man must 1-1-look b-b-before he 1-leaps. If you
c-c-can't, you c-c-can't. M-m-must know all about the
m-m-matter, all the resources and the debts, if you
d-d-don't want to be r-r-ruined. Hein ? is 11't it so ? "
"Certainly," said the president. "I'm of opinion
that in a few months the debts might be bought up
for a certain sum, and then paid in full by an agree¬
ment. Ila ! ha! 3-011 can coax a dog a long way if you
show him a bit of lard. If there has been 110 declara-
150 Eugenie Qrandet.
tion of failure, and you hold a lien on the debts, you
come out of the business as white as the driven snow."
" Sn-n-now," said Grandet, putting his hand to his
ear, " wh-wh-wbat about s-now?"
" But," cried the president, " do pray attend to what
I am saying."
"Iam at-t-tending."
" A note is merchandise, — an article of barter which
rises and falls in price. That is a deduction from
Jeremy Bentham's theory about usury. That writer
has proved that the prejudice which condemned usurers
to reprobation was mere folly."
" Whew ! " ejaculated the goodman.
"Allowing that money, according to Bentham, is
an article of merchandise, and that whatever represents
money is equally merchandise," resumed the president;
'' allowing also that it is notorious that the commercial
note, bearing this or that signature, is liable to the
fluctuation of all commercial values, rises or falls in the
market, is dear at one moment, and is worth nothing
at another, the courts decide — ah! how stupid I am,
I beg your pardon — I am inclined to think you could
buy up your brother's debts for twenty-five per cent."
" D-d-did you c-c-call him Je-Je-Jeremy B-Ben? "
" Bentham, an Englishman."
" That's a Jeremy who might save us a lot of lamen¬
tations in business," said the notary, laughing.
Eugenie Grrandet. 151
"Those Englishmen s-sometimes t-t-talk sense," said
Grandet. " So, ac-c-cording to Ben-Bentham, if my
b-b-brother's n-notes are worth n-n-nothing; if Je-Je
— I'm c-c-correct, am I not? That seems c-c-clear
to my m-m-mind — the c-c-creditors would be — No,
would not be; I understand."
" Let me explain it all," said the president. " Legal-
lyT, if you acquire a title to all the debts of the Maison
Grandet, your brother or his heirs will owe nothing to
any one. Very good."
" Very g-good," repeated Grandet.
"In equity, if your brother's notes are negotiated —
negotiated, do you clearly understand the term? —
negotiated in the market at a reduction of so much
per cent in value, and if one of your friends happening
to be present should buy them in, the creditors having
sold them of their own free-will without constraint, the
estate of the late Grandet is honorably released."
"That's t-true; b-b-business is b-business," said
the cooper. " B-b-but, st-still, }*ou know, it is d-d-dif-
ficult. I h-have n-no m-m-money and n-110 t-t-time."
" Yes, but you need not undertake it. I am quite
ready to go to Paris (you may pay my expenses, they
will only be a trifle). I will see the creditors and talk
with them and get an extension of time, aud everything
can be arranged if you will add something to the assets
so as to buy up all title to the debts."
152 Eugenie Grandet.
"We-we'll see about th-that. I c-c-can't and I
w-w-won't b-b-bind myself without — He who c-c-can't,
can't; don't you see ? "
'' That's very true."
"I'm all p-p-put ab-b-bout by what you've t-t-told
me. This is the f-first t-t-time in my life I have b-been
obliged to th-th-think — "
"Yes, you are not a lawyer."
"I'm only a p-p-poor wine-g-grower, and know
n-nothing about wh-what you have just t-told me; I
m-m-must th-think about it.rj
"Very good," said the president, preparing to
resume his argument.
"Nephew!" said the notary, interrupting him in a
warning tone.
" Well, what, uncle?" answered the president.
" Let Monsieur Grandet explain his own intentions.
The matter in question is of the first importance. Our
good friend ought to define his meaning clearty,
and — "
A loud knock, which announced the arrival of the
des Grassins family, succeeded by their entrance and
salutations, hindered Cruchot from concluding his sen¬
tence. The notary was glad of the interruption, for
Grandet was beginning to look suspiciously at him,
and the wen gave signs of a brewing storm. In the
first place, the notary did not think it becoming in a
Eugenie Cfrandet.
153
president of the Civil courts to go to Paris and manipu¬
late creditors and lend himself to an underhand job
which clashed with the laws of strict integrity; more¬
over, never having known old Grandet to express the
slightest desire to pay anything, no matter what, he
instinctively feared to see his nephew taking part in
the affair. He therefore profited by the entrance of the
des Grassins to take the president by the arm and lead
him into the embrasure of the window, —
"You have said enough, nephew; you've shown
enough devotion. Your desire to win the girl blinds
you. The devil! j'ou mustn't go at it tooth and nail.
Let me sail the ship now ; 3*ou can haul on the braces.
Do you think it right to compromise your dignity as
a magistrate in such a — "
He stopped, for he heard Monsieur des Grassins
saying to the old cooper as they shook hands, —
" Grandet, we have heard of the frightful misfortunes
which have just befallen your family, — the failure of
the house of Guillaume Grandet and the death of your
brother. We have come to express our grief at these
sad events."
" There is but one sad event," said the notary,
interrupting the banker, — "the death of Monsieur
Grandet, junior; and he would never have killed him¬
self had he thought in time of applying to his brother
for help. Our old friend, who is honorable to his
154 Eugenie Gfrandet.
finger-nails, intends to liquidate the debts of the Maison
Grandet of Paris. To save him the worry of legal pro¬
ceedings, my nephew, the president, has just offered to
go to Paris and negotiate with the creditors for a
satisfactory settlement."
These words, corroborated by Grandet's attitude as
he stood silently nursing his chin, astonished the three
des Grassins, who had been leisurely discussing the old
man's avarice as they came along, very nearly accusing
him of fratricide.
"Ah! I was sure of it," cried the banker, looking
at his wife. " What did I tell you just now, Madame
des Grassins? Grandet is honorable to the backbone,
and would never allow his name to remain under the
slightest cloud! Money without honor is a disease.
There is honor in the provinces! Right, very right,
Grandet. I'm an old soldier, and I can't disguise
m}7 thoughts ; I speak roughly. Thunder! it is sub¬
lime ! "
" Th-then s-s-sublime th-things c-c-cost d-dear," an¬
swered the goodman, as the banker warmly wrung his
hand.
" But this, my dear Grandet, —if the president will
excuse me, — is a purely commercial matter, and needs
a consummate business man. Your agent must be
some one fully acquainted with the markets, — with dis¬
bursements, rebates, interest calculations, and so forth.
Eugenie Grandet. 155
I am going to Paris on business of my own, and I can
take charge of — "
"We'll see about t-t-trying to m-m-manage it
b-b-between us, under the p-p-p-peculiar c-c-circum-
stances, b-b-but without b-b-binding m-m-myself to
anything th-that I c-c-could not do," said Grandet, stut¬
tering ; " because, you see, monsieur le president natu¬
rally expects me to pay the expenses of his journey."
The goodman did not stammer over the last words.
"Eh!" cried Madame des Grassins, "why it is a
pleasure to go to Paris. I would willingly pay to go
myself."
She made a sign to her husband, as if to encourage
him in cutting the enemy out of the commission, coute
que coute ; then she glanced ironically at the two Cru-
chots, who looked chap-fallen. Grandet seized the
banker by a button and drew him into a corner of the
room.
" I have a great deal more confidence in you than in
the president," he said; "besides, I've other fish to
fry," he added, wriggling his wen. "I want to buy
a few thousand francs in the Funds while they are at
eight}7. They fall, I'm told, at the end of each month.
You know all about these things, don't you? "
" Bless me ! then, am I to invest enough to give you
a few thousand francs a year?"
"That's not much to begin with. Hush! I don't
156
Eugenie Grandet.
want any one to know I am going to play that game.
You can make the investment b}r the end of the month.
Say nothing to the Cruchots; that '11 annoy them. If
.you are really going to Paris, we will see if there is
anything to he done for my poor nephew."
"Well, it's all settled. I'll start to-morrow by the
mail-post," said des Grassins aloud, " and I will come
and take your last directions at — what hour will suit
you ? "
"Five o'clock, just before dinner," said Grandet,
rubbing his hands.
The two parties stayed on for a short time. Des
Grassins said, after a pause, striking Grandet on the
shoulder, —
" It is a good thing to have a relation like him."
"Yes, yes; without making a show," said Grandet,
" I am a g-good relation. I loved my brother, and I
will] prove it, unless it c-c-costs — "
" We must leave you, Grandet," said the banker,
interrupting him fortunately before he got to the end
of his sentence. " If I hurry my departure, I must
attend to some matters at once."
" Venr good, very good! I myself — in c-conse-
quence of what I t-told you — I must retire to my own
room and ' d-d-deliberate,' as President Cruchot says."
'' Plague take him! I am no longer Monsieur de
Bonfons," thought the magistrate ruefully, his face
Jhuyenie (xrandet.
157
assuming the expression of a judge bored by an
argument.
The heads of the two factions walked off together.
Neither gave any further thought to the treachery Gran-
det had been guilty of in the morning against the whole
wine-growing community; each tried to fathom what
the other was thinking about the real intentions of
the wily old man in this new affair, but in vain.
'' Will you go with us to Madame Dorsonval's ?"
said des Grassins to the notary.
"We will go there later," answered the president.
" I have promised to say good-evening to Mademoiselle
de Gribeaucourt, and we will go there first, if my uncle
is willing."
"Farewell for the present!" said Madame des
Grassins.
When the Cruchots were a few steps off, Adolphe re¬
marked to his father, —
" Are not they fuming, hein? "
'' Hold your tongue, my son! " said his mother;
" they might hear you. Besides, what 3tou say is not in
good taste,—law-school language."
"Well, uncle," cried the president when he saw the
des Grassins disappearing, " I began by being de Bon-
fons, and I have ended as nothing but Cruchot."
"I saw that that annoyed you; but the wind has
set fair for the des Grassins. What a fool you are,
11
158 Eugenie Crrandet.
with all your cleverness! Let them sail off on Gran-
det's ' We will see about it,' and keep j'ourself quiet,
young man. Eugenie will none the less be your wife."
In a few moments the news of Grandet's magnani¬
mous resolve was disseminated in three houses at the
same moment, and the w7hole town began to talk of his
fraternal devotion. Every one forgave Grandet for the
sale made in defiance of the good faith pledged to the
community; they admired his sense of honor, and began
to laud a generosity of which they had never thought
him capable. It is part of the French nature to grow
enthusiastic, or angry, or fervent about some meteor
of the moment. Can it be that collective beings, na¬
tionalities, peoples, are devoid of memory?
When Pere Grandet had shut the door he called
Nanon.
'' Don't let the dog loose, and don't go to bed; we have
work to do together. At eleven o'clock Cornoiller will
be at the door with the chariot from Froidfond. Listen
for him and prevent his knocking; tell him to come
in softly. Police regulations don't allow nocturnal
racket. Besides, the whole neighborhood need not
know that I am starting on a journey."
So saying, Grandet returned to his private room,
where Nanon heard him moving about, rummaging, and
walking to and fro, though with much precaution, for
he evidently did not wish to wake his wife and daugh-
EugSnie Grrandet.
159
ter, and above all not to rouse the attention of his
nephew, whom he had begun to anathematize when he
saw a thread of light under his door. About the mid¬
dle of the night Eugenie, intent on her cousin, fancied
she heard a cry like that of a dying person. It must be
Charles, she thought; he was so pale, so full of de¬
spair when she had seen him last, — could he have
killed himself? She wrapped herself quickly in a loose
garment, — a sort of pelisse with a hood, — and was about
to leave the room when a bright light coming through
the chinks of her door made her think of fire. But she
recovered herself as she heard Nanon's heavy steps and
gruff voice mingling with the snorting of several horses.
"Can my father be carrying off my cousin?" she
said to herself, opening her door with great precaution
lest it should creak, and yet enough to let her see into
the corridor.
Suddenly her eye encountered that of her father; and
his glance, vague and unnoticing as it was, terrified
her. The goodman and Nanon were yoked together
by a stout stick, each end of which rested on their
shoulders; a stout rope was passed over it, on which
was slung a small barrel or keg like those Pere Grandet
still made in his bakehouse as an amusement for his
leisure hours.
" Holy Virgin, how heavy it is ! " said the voice of
Nanon.
160 Eugenie Grandet.
" What a pity that it is only copper sous ! " answered
Grandet. "Take care you don't knock over the
candlestick."
The scene was lighted by a single candle placed
between two rails of the staircase.
" Cornoiller," said Grandet to his keeper inpartibus,
" have you brought your pistols? "
"No, monsieur. Mercy! what's there to fear for
your copper sous ? "
" Oh! nothing," said Pere Grandet.
" Besides, we shall go fast," added the man; "your
farmers have picked out their best horses."
"Very good. You did not tell them where I was
going?"
" I did n't know where."
" Very good. Is the carriage strong?"
"Strong? hear to that, now! Why, it can carry
three thousand weight. How much does that old keg
weigh ? "
"Goodness!" exclaimed Nanon, "I ought to
know ! There's pretty nigh eighteen hundred — "
"Will you hold your tongue, Nanon! You are to
tell my wife I have gone into the country. I shall be
back to dinner. Drive fast, Cornoillei; I must get
to Angers before nine o'clock."
The carriage drove off. Nanon bolted the great
door, let loose the dog, and went to bed with a bruised
Eugenie Qrandet.
161
shoulder, no one in the neighborhood suspecting either
the departure of Grandet or the object of his journey.
The precautions of the old miser and his reticence were
never relaxed. No one had ever seen a penny in that
house, filled as it was with gold. Hearing in the morn¬
ing, through the gossip of the port, that exchange on
gold had doubled in price in consequence of certain
military preparations undertaken at Nantes, and that
speculators had arrived at Angers to buy coin, the
old wine-grower, by the simple process of borrowing
horses from his farmers, seized the chance of selling
his gold and of bringing back in the form of treasury
notes the sum he intended to put into the Funds, hav¬
ing swelled it considerably by the exchange.
162
Eugenie Cfrandet.
VIII.
" My father has gone," thought Eugenie, who heard
all that took place from the head of the stairs. Si¬
lence was restored in the house, and the distant rumb¬
ling of the carriage, ceasing by degrees, no longer
echoed through the sleeping town. At.this moment
Eugenie heard in her heart, before the sound caught
her ears, a crjr which pierced the partitions and came
from her cousin's chamber. A line of light, thin as the
blade of a sabre, shone through a chink in the door
and fell horizontally on the balusters of the rotten
staircase.
" He suffers !" she said, springing up two stairs. A
second moan brought her to the landing near his room.
The door was ajar, she pushed it open. Charles was
sleeping; his head hung over the side of the old arm¬
chair, and his hand, from which the pen had fallen,
nearly touched the floor. The oppressed breathing
caused by the strained posture suddenly frightened
Eugenie, who entered the room hastily.
" He must be very tired," she said to herself, glanc¬
ing at a dozen letters lying sealed upon the table.
Eugenie Gcrandet.
163
She read their addresses: "To Messrs. Farry, Breil-
mann, & Co., carriage-makers;" "To Monsieur Buis-
son, tailor," etc.
"He has been settling all his affairs, so as to leave
France at once," she thought. Her eyes fell upon
two open letters. The words, " My dear Annette," at
the head of one of them, blinded her for a moment.
Her heart beat fast, her feet were nailed to the
floor.
"His dear Annette! He loves! he is loved! No
hope ! What does he say to her? "
These thoughts rushed through her head and heart.
She saw the words everywhere, even on the bricks of
the floor, in letters of fire.
" Resign him already? No, no! I will not read the
letter. I ought to go away — What if I do read it ?"
She looked at Charles, then she gently took his head
and placed it against the back of the chair; he let her
do so, like a child which, though asleep, knows its
mother's touch and receives, without awaking, her
kisses and watchful care. Like a mother Eugenie raised
the drooping hand, and like a mother she gently kissed
the chestnut hair— "Hear Annette!" a demon
shrieked the words into her ear.
" I am doing wrong; but I must read it, that let¬
ter," she said. She turned away her head, for her
noble sense of honor reproached her. For the first
164:
Eugenie Grandet.
time in her life good and evil struggled together in her
heart. Up to that moment she had never had to blush
for any action. Passion and curiosity triumphed. As
she read each sentence her heart swelled more and
more, and the keen glow which filled her being as she
did so, only made the joys of first love still more
precious.
My dear Annette, — Nothing could ever have sepa¬
rated us but the great misfortune^ which has now over¬
whelmed me, and which no human foresight could have
prevented. My father has killed himself; his fortune and
mine are irretrievably lost. I am orphaned at an age when,
through the nature of my education, I am still a child; and
yet I must lift myself as a man out of the abyss into which I
am plunged. I have just spent half the night in facing my
position. If I wish to leave France an honest man,— and
there is no doubt of that, — I have not a hundred francs of my
own with which to try my fate in the Indies or in America.
Yes, my poor Anna, I must seek my fortune in those deadly
climates. Under those skies, they tell me, I am sure to make
it. As for remaining in Paris, I cannot do so. Neither my
nature nor my face are made to bear the affronts, the neg¬
lect, the disdain shown to a ruined man, the son of a bank¬
rupt! Good God! think of owing two millions! I should
be killed in a duel the first week; therefore I shall not return
there. Your love — the most tender and devoted love which
ever ennobled the heart of man — cannot draw me back.
Alas! my beloved, I have no money with which to go to you,
to give and receive a last kiss from which I might derive
some strength for my forlorn enterprise.
Eugenie Crrandet.
165
"Poor Charles! I did well to read the letter. I
have gold; I will give it to him," thought Eugenie.
She wiped her eyes, and went on reading.
I have never thought of the miseries of poverty. If I have
the hundred louis required for the mere costs of the journey,
I have not a sou for an outfit. But no, I have not the hun¬
dred louis, not even one louis. I don't know that anything
will be left after I have paid my debts in Paris. If I have
nothing, I shall go quietly to Nantes and ship as a common
sailor; and I will begin in the new world like other men who
have started young without a sou and brought back the wealth
of the Indies. During this long day I have faced my future
coolly. It seems more horrible for me than for another, be¬
cause I have been so petted by a mother who adored me, so
indulged by the kindest of fathers, so blessed by meeting, on
my entrance into life, with the love of an Anna! The flowers
of life are all I have ever known. Such happiness could not
last. Nevertheless, my dear Annette, I feel more courage
than a careless young man is supposed to feel, — above
all a young man used to the caressing ways of the dearest
woman in all Paris, cradled in family joys, on whom all
things smiled in his home, whose wishes were a law to his
father — oh, my father! Annette, he is dead!
Well, I have thought over my position, and yours as well.
I have grown old in twenty-four hours. Dear Anna, if in
order to keep me with you in Paris you were to sacrifice
your luxury, your dress, your opera-box, we should even
then not have enough for the expenses of my extravagant
ways of living. Besides, I would never accept such sacri¬
fices. No, we must part now and forever —
166
Eugenie Grandet.
'' He gives her up ! Blessed Virgin! "What happi¬
ness !"
Eugenie quivered with joy. Charles made a move
ment, and a chill of terror ran through her. Fortunately,
he did not wake, and she resumed her reading.
When shall I return? I do not know. The climate of
the West Indies ages a European, so they say; especially a
European who works hard. Let us think what may happen
ten years hence. In ten years your daughter will be eighteen;
she will be your companion, your spy. To you society will
be cruel, and your daughter perhaps more cruel still. We
have seen cases of the harsh social judgment and ingratitude
of daughters; let us take warning by them. Keep in the
depths of your soul, as I shall in mine, the memory of four
years of happiness, and be faithful, if you can, to the mem¬
ory of your poor friend. I cannot exact such faithfulness,
because, do you see, dear Annette, I must conform to the
exigencies of my new life; I must take a commonplace view
of them and do the best I can. Therefore I must think of
marriage, which becomes one of the necessities of my future
existence; and I will admit to you that I have found, here in
Saumur, in my uncle's house, a cousin whose face, manners,
mind, and heart would please you, and who, besides, seems
to me —
" He must have been veiy weary to have ceased
writing to her," thought Eugenie, as she gazed at the
letter which stopped abruptly in the middle of the last
sentence.
Eugenie Grrandet. 167
Already she defended him. How was it possible that
an innocent girl should perceive the cold-heartedness
evinced by this letter? To young girls religiously
brought up, whose minds are ignorant and pure, all is
love from the moment they set their feet within the
enchanted regions of that passion. They walk there
bathed in a celestial light shed from their own souls,
which reflects its rays upon their lover; they color all
with the flame of their own emotion and attribute to him
their highest thoughts. A woman's errors come almost
always from her belief in good or her confidence in
truth. In Eugenie's simple heart the words, " My dear
Annette, lny loved one," echoed like the sweetest lan¬
guage of love ; they caressed her soul as, in childhood,
the divine notes of the Venite adoremus, repeated
by the organ, caressed her ear. Moreover, the tears
which still lingered on the young man's lashes gave
signs of that nobility of heart by which young girls are
rightly won. How could she know that Charles,
though he loved his father and mourned him trulj*, was
moved far more by paternal goodness than by the
goodness of his own heart? Monsieur and Madame
Guillaume Gran dot, by gratifying every fancy of their
son, and lavishing upon him the pleasures of a large
fortune, had kept him from making the horrible calcula¬
tions of which so many sons in Paris become more or
less guilty when, face to face with the enjo3"ments of the
168 jEugenie Grrandet.
world, they form desires and conceive schemes which
the}' see with bitterness must be put off or laid aside
during the lifetime of their parents. The liberality of
the father in this instance had shed into the heart of
the son a real love, in which there was 110 afterthought
of self-interest.
Nevertheless, Charles was a true child of Paris,
taught by the customs of society and by Annette her¬
self to calculate everything ; already an old man under
the mask of youth. He had gone through the frightful
education of social life, of that world where in one even¬
ing more crimes are committed in thought and speech
than justice ever punishes at the assizes; where jests
and clever sayings assassinate the noblest ideas ; where
no one is counted strong unless his mind sees clear:
and to see clear in that world is to believe in nothing,
neither in feelings, nor in men, nor even in events, —
for events are falsified. There, to "see clear" we
must weigh a friend's purse daily, learn how to keep
ourselves adroitly on the top of the wave, cautiously
admire nothing, neither works of art nor glorious ac¬
tions, and remember that self-interest is the mainspring
of all things here below. After committing many fol¬
lies, the great lady — the beautiful Annette — com¬
pelled Charles to think seriously; with her perfumed
hand among his curls, she talked to him of his future
position ; as she rearranged his locks, she taught him
EugSnie Grandet.
169
lessons of worldly prudence ; slie made him effeminate
and materialized him,—a double corruption, but a deli¬
cate and elegant corruption, in the best taste.
"You are very foolish, Charles," she would say to
him. " I shall have a great deal of trouble in teaching
you to understand the world. You behaved extremely
ill to Monsieur des Lupeaulx. I know very well he is
not an honorable man ; but wait till he is no longer in
power, then you may despise him as much as you like.
Do you know what Madame Campan used to tell us ?
— ' My dears, as long as a man is a minister, adore
him; when he falls, help to drag him into the gutter.
Powerful, he is a sort of god; fallen, he is lower than
Marat in the sewer, because he is living, and Marat
is dead. Life is a series of combinations, and you must
study them and understand them if you want to keep
yourselves always in good position.'"
Charles was too much a man of the world, his par¬
ents had made him too happy, he had received too
much adulation in society, to be possessed of noble
sentiments. The grain of gold dropped by his mother
into his heart was beaten thin in the smithy of Parisian
society; he had spread it superficially, and it was worn
away by the friction of life. Charles was only twenty-
one years old. At that age the freshness of youth
seems inseparable from candor and sincerity of soul.
The voice, the glance, the face itself, seem in harmony
170 EugSnie Grandet.
with the feelings ; and thus it happens that the sternest
judge, the most sceptical lawyer, the least complying
of usurers, always hesitate to admit decrepitude of heart
or the corruption of worldly calculation while the eyes
are still bathed in purity and no wrinkles seam the
brow. Charles, so far, had had no occasion to apply
the maxims of Parisian morality; up to this time he
was still endowed with the beauty of inexperience.
And yet, unknown to himself, he had been inoculated
with selfishness. The germs of Parisian political econ¬
omy, latent in his heart, would assuredly burst forth,
sooner or later, whenever the careless spectator became
an actor in the drama of real life.
Nearly all young girls succumb to the tender prom¬
ises such an outward appearance seems to offer: even if
Eugenie had been as prudent and observing as provincial
girls are often found to be, she was not likely to dis¬
trust her cousin when his manners, words, and actions
were still in unison with the aspirations of a youthful
heart. A mere chance — a fatal chance — threw in her
wa}T the last effusions of real feeling which stirred the
young man's soul; she heard as it were the last breath¬
ings of his conscience. She laid down the letter — to
her so full of love — and began smilingly to watch
her sleeping cousin; the fresh illusions of life were
still, for her at least, upon his face ; she vowed to her¬
self to love him always. Then she cast her eyes on the
Eugenie Grandet.
171
other letter, without attaching much importance to this
second indiscretion ; and though she read it, it was only
to obtain new proofs of the noble qualities which, like
all women, she attributed to the man her heart had
chosen.
My dear Alphonse, — When you receive this letter I
shall be without friends; but let me assure you that while I
doubt the friendship of the world, I have never doubted
yours. I beg you therefore to settle all my affairs, and I
trust to you to get as much as you can out of my possessions.
By this time you know my situation. I have nothing left,
and I intend to go at once to the Indies. I have just written
to all the people to whom I think I owe money, and you will
find inclosed a list of their names, as correct as I can make
it from memory. My books, my furniture, my pictures, my
horses, etc., ought, I think, to pay my debts. I do not wish
to keep anything, except, perhaps, a few baubles which
might serve as the beginning of an outfit for my enterprise.
My dear Alphonse, I will send you a proper power of attor¬
ney under which you can make these sales. Send me all my
weapons. Keep Briton for yourself; nobody would pay the
value of that noble beast, and I would rather give him to
you — like a mourning-ring bequeathed by a dying man to
his executor. Farry, Breilmann, & Co. built me a very
comfortable travelling-carriage, which they have not yet
delivered; persuade them to keep it and not ask for any pay¬
ment on it. If they refuse, do what you can in the matter,
and avoid everything that might seem dishonorable in me
under my present circumstances. I owe the British Islander
six louis, which I lost at cards; don't fail to pay him —
172 Eugenie Grandet.
" Dear cousin ! " whispered Eugenie, throwing down
the letter and running softly hack to her room, carrying
one of the lighted candles. A thrill of pleasure passed
over her as she opened the drawer of an old oak cabi¬
net, a fine specimen of the period called the Renaissance,
on which could still be seen, partly effaced, the famous
royal salamander. She took from the drawer a large
purse of red velvet with gold tassels, edged with a
tarnished fringe of gold wire, — a relic inherited from
her grandmother. She weighed it proudly in her hand,
and began with delight to count over the forgotten
items of her little hoard. First she took out twenty
portugcdses, still new, struck in the reign of John V.,
1725, worth by exchange, as her father told her, five
lisbonnines, or a hundred and sixty-eight francs, sixty-
four centimes each ; their conventional value, however,
was a hundred and eighty francs apiece, on account
of the rarity and beauty of the coins, which shone like
little suns. Item, five genovines, or five hundred-franc
pieces of Genoa; another very rare coin worth eighty-
seven francs on exchange, but a hundred francs to col¬
lectors. These had formerly belonged to old Monsieur
de la Bertelliere. Item, three gold quadruples, Span¬
ish, of Philip V., struck in 1729, given to her one by
one by Madame Gentillet, who never failed to say,
using the same words, when she made the gift, " This
dear little canary, this little yellow-boy, is worth ninety-
Eugenie Grandet.
173
eight francs! Keep it, my pretty one, it will be the
flower of your treasure." Item (that which her father
valued most of all, the gold of these coins being twenty-
three carats and a fraction), a hundred Dutch ducats,
made in the year 17o6, and worth thirteen francs
apiece. Item, a great curiosity, a species of medal
precious to the soul of misers, — three rupees with the
sign of the Scales, and five rupees with the sign of the
Virgin, all in pure gold of twenty-four carats ; the mag¬
nificent money of the Great Mogul, each of which was
worth by mere weight thirty-seven francs, forty cen¬
times, but at least fifty francs to those connoisseurs who
love to handle gold. Item, the napoleon of forty francs
received the day before, which she had forgotten to put
away in the velvet purse. This treasure was all in
virgin coins, true works of art, which Grandet from
time to time inquired after and asked to see, pointing
out to his daughter their intrinsic merits, —such as the
beauty of the milled edge, the clearness of the flat
surface, the richness of the lettering, whose angles were
not yet rubbed off.
Eugenic gave no thought to these rarities, nor to
her father's mania for them, nor to the danger she in¬
curred in depriving herself of a treasure so dear to
him ; no, she thought only of her cousin, and soon
made out, after a few mistakes of calculation, that she
possessed about five thousand eight hundred francs in
174 Eugenie Grandet.
actual value, which might be sold for their additional
value to collectors for nearly six thousand. She looked
at her wealth and clapped her hands like a happy
child forced to spend its overflowing joy in artless
movements of the body. Father and daughter had
each counted up their fortune this night,—he, to sell
his gold; Eugenie to fling hers into the ocean of affec¬
tion. She put the pieces back into the old purse, took
it in her hand, and ran upstairs without hesitation.
The secret misery of her cousin made her forget the
hour and conventional propriety ; she was strong in her
conscience, in her devotion, in her happiness.
As she stood upon the threshold of the door, holding
the candle in one hand and the purse in the other,
Charles woke, caught sight of her, and remained
speechless with surprise. Eugenie came forward, put
the candle on the table, and said in a quivering voice :
" My cousin, I must beg your pardon for a wrong I
have done 3-011; but God will pardon me — if 3'ou —
will help me to wipe it out."
" What is it?" asked Charles, rubbing his eyes.
" I have read those letters."
Charles colored.
" How did it happen?" she continued ; " how came
I here? Truly, I do not know. I am tempted not to
regret too much that I have read them; the}- have
made me know your heart, your soul, and —"
Eugenie Grandet. 175
" And what? " asked Charles.
" Your plans, your need of a sum —"
" My dear cousin —"
" Hush, hush! my cousin, not so loud ; we must not
wake others. See," she said, opening her purse, " here
are the savings of a poor girl who wants nothing.
Charles, accept them! This morning I was ignorant
of the value of money; j'ou have taught it to me. It is
Tbut a means, after all. A cousin is almost a brother;
you yhn surely borrow the purse of 3*our sister."
Eugenie, as much a woman as a young girl, never
dreamed of refusal; but her cousin remained silent.
"Oh! you will not refuse?" cried Eugenie, the
beatings of whose heart could be heard in the deep
silence.
Her cousin's hesitation mortified her; but the sore
need of his position came clearer still to her mind, and
she knelt down.
"I will never rise till you have taken that gold! "
she said. "My cousin, I implore you, answer me!
let me know if you respect me, if you are generous,
if — "
As he heard this cry of noble distress the 3'oung
man's tears fell upon his cousin's hands, which he had
caught in his own to keep her from kneeling. As the
warm tears touched her, Eugenie sprang to the purse
and poured its contents upon the table.
176 Eugenie Grandet.
"Ah! yes, yes, you consent?" she said, weeping
with joy. " Fear nothing, my cousin, 3*011 will be rich.
This gold will bring 3*011 happiness ; some cla3* 3*011 shall
bring it back to me, — are we not partners ? I will
obey all conditions. But 3'ou should not attach such
value to the gift."
Charles was at last able to express his feelings.
"Yes, Eugenie; ni3* soul would be small indeed if
I did not accept. And yet, — gift for gift, confidence
for confidence."
" What do 3'ou mean? " she said, frightened.
"Listen, dear cousin; I have here —" He inter¬
rupted himself to point out a square box covered with
an outer case of leather which was on the drawers.
"There," he continued, "is something as precious to
me as life itself. This box was a present from my
mother. All day I have been thinking that if she could
rise from her grave, she would herself sell the gold
which her love for me lavished on this dressing-case;
but were I to do so, the act would seem to me a sacri¬
lege." Eugenie pressed his hand as she heard these last
words. "No," he added, after a slight pause, during
which a liquid glance of tenderness passed between
them, " no, I will neither sell it nor risk its safety on
my journe3'. Dear Eugenie, 3*011 shall be its guardian.
Never did friend commit anything more sacred to
another. Let me. show it to 3*011."
Eugenie Grandet.
177
lie went to the box, took it from its outer coverings,
opened it, and showed his delighted cousin a dressing-
case where the rich workmanship gave to the gold
ornaments a value far above their weight.
" What you admire there is nothing," he said, push¬
ing a secret spring which opened a hidden drawer.
"Here is something which to me is worth the whole
world." He drew out two portraits, masterpieces of
Madame Mirbel, richly set with pearls.
"Oh, how beautiful! Is it the lady to whom you
wrote that — "
"No," he said, smiling; "this is my mother, and
here is iry father, your aunt and uncle. Eugenie, I
beg you on my knees, keep my treasure safety. If I
die and your little fortune is lost, this gold and these
pearls will repay you. To you alone could I leave
these portraits; you are worthy to keep them. But
destroy them at last, so that they may pass into no other
hands." Eugenie was silent. "Ah, yes, say yes!
You consent?" he added with wanning grace.
Hearing the very words she had just used to her
cousin now addressed to herself, she turned upon him
a look of love, her first look of loving womanhood, —
a glance in which there is nearly as much of co¬
quetry as of inmost depth. He took her hand and
kissed it.
" Angel of purity ! between us two money is nothing,
178 Eugenie Grandet.
never can be anything. Feeling, sentiment, must be
all henceforth."
"You are like your mother, — was her voice as soft
as yours?"
'' Oh ! much softer — "
"Yes, for you," she said, dropping her eyelids.
"Come, Charles, go to bed; I wish it:?.you must be
tired. Good-night." She gently disengaged her hand
from those of her cousin, who followed her to her room,
lighting the way. When they were both upon the
threshold, —
" Ah! " he said, " why am I ruined ?"
"What matter? — my father is rich; I think so,"
she answered.
"Poor child!" said Charles, making a step into her
room and leaning his back against the wall, " if that
were so, he would never have let m}T father die; he
would not let you live in this poor way; he would live
otherwise himself."
" But he owns Froidfond."
" What is Froidfond worth? "
" I don't know ; but he has Noyers."
" Nothing but a poor farm ! "
" He has vineyards and fields."
"Mere nothing," said Charles disdainful^. "If
your father had only twenty-four thousand francs a
year do }Tou suppose you would live in this cold, bar-
EugSnie G-randet. 179
ren room ? " he added, making a step in advance. " Ah !
there you will keep my treasures," he said, glancing at
the old cabinet, as if to hide his thoughts.
" Go and sleep," she said, hindering his entrance
into the disordered room.
Charles stepped back, and they bid each other goodr
night with a mutual smile.
Both fell asleep in the same dream; and from that
moment the youth began to wear roses with his mourn¬
ing. The next day, before breakfast, Madame Gran-
det found her daughter in the garden in company with
Charles. The young man was still sad, as became a
poor fellow who, plunged in misfortune, measures the
depths of the abyss into which he has fallen, and sees
the terrible burden of his whole future life.
" My father will not be home till dinner-time," said
Eugenie, perceiving the anxious look on her mother's
face.
It was easy to trace in the face and manners of the
young girl and in the singular sweetness of her voice
a unison of thought between her and her cousin. Their
seals had espoused each other, perhaps before they even
felt the force of the feelings which bound them together.
Charles spent the morning in the hall, and his sadness
was respected. Each of the three women had occupa¬
tions of her own. Grandet had left all his affairs unat¬
tended to, and a number of persons came 011 business, —
ICO Eugenie Grandet.
the plumber, the mason, the slater, the carpenter, the
diggers, the dressers, the farmers ; some to drive a bar¬
gain about repairs, others to pay their rent or to be paid
themselves for services. Madame Grandet and Euge¬
nie were obliged to go and come and listen to the inter¬
minable talk of all these workmen and country folk.
Nanon put away in her kitchen the produce which they
brought as tribute. She always waited for her master's
orders before she knew what portion was to be used in
the house and what was to be sold in the market. It
was the goodman's custom, like that of a great many
country gentlemen, to drink his bad wine and eat his
spoiled fruit.
Towards five in the afternoon Grandet returned from
Angers, having made fourteen thousand francs by the
exchange on his gold, bringing home in his wallet
good treasury-notes which bore interest until the day
he should invest them in the Funds. He had left Cor-
noiller at Angers to look after the horses, which were
wellnigh foundered, with orders to bring them home
slowly after they were rested.
" I have got back from Angers, wife," he said ; " I
am hungry."
Nanon called out to him from the kitchen : "Have n't
you eaten anything since yesterday ? "
" Nothing," answered the old man.
Nanon brought in the soup. Des Grassins came to
Euginie Grandet.
181
take his client's orders just as the family sat down to
dinner. Grandet had not even observed his nephew.
"Go on eating, Grandet," said the banker; "we
can talk. Do you know what gold is worth in Angers?
They have come from Nantes after it? I shall send
some of ours."
"Don't send any," said Grandet; "they have got
enough. We are such old friends, I ought to save you
from such a loss of time."
" But gold is worth thirteen francs fifty centimes."
'' Say vms worth — "
" Where the devil have they got any ? "
" I went to Angers last night," answered Grandet in
a low voice.
The banker shook with surprise. Then a whispered
conversation began between the two, during which
Grandet and des Grassins frequently looked at Charles.
Presently des Grassins gave a start of astonishment;
probably Grandet was then instructing him to invest
the sum which was to give him a hundred thousand
francs a year in the Funds.
" Monsieur Grandet," said the banker to Charles, " I
am starting for Paris ; if you have any commissions — "
" None, monsieur, I thank you," answered Charles.
" Thank him better than that, nephew. Monsieur
is going to settle the affairs of the house of Guillaume
Grandet."
182 EugSnie Crrandet.
'' Is there an}- hope ? " said Charles eagerl}*.
" What! " exclaimed his uncle, with well-acted pride,
" are you not my nephew? Your honor is curs, Is not
your name Grandet ? "
Charles rose, seized Pere Grandet, kissed him, turned
pale, and left the room. Eugenie looked at her father
with admiration.
"Well, good-by, des Grassins; it is all in your
hands. Decoy those people as best you can ; lead 'em
by the nose."
The two diplomatists shook hands. The old cooper
accompanied the banker to the front door. Then, after
closing it, he came back and plunged into his armchair,
saying to Nanon, —
" Get me some black-currant ratafia."
Too excited, however, to remain long in one place,
he got up, looked at the portrait of Monsieur de la
Bertelliere, and began to sing, doing what Nanon called
his dancing-steps, —
" Dans les gardes fran9aises
J'avais un bon papa."
Nanon, Madame Grandet, and Eugenie looked at
each other in silence. The hilarity of the master al¬
ways frightened them when it reached its climax. The
evening was soon over. Pere Grandet chose to go to
bed earl}*, and when he went to bed, everybody else was
Eugenie Grandet.
183
expected to go too; like as when Augustus drank, Po¬
land was drunk. On this occasion Nanon, Charles, and
Eugenie were not less tired than the master. As for
Madame Grandet, she slept, ate, drank, and walked
according to the will of her husband. However, dur¬
ing the two hours consecrated to digestion, the cooper,
more facetious than he had ever been in his life, uttered
a number of his own particular apothegms, — a single
one of which will give the measure of his mind. When
he had drunk his ratafia, he looked at his glass and
said, —
" You have no sooner put your lips to a glass than
it is empty! Such is life. You can't have and hold.
Gold won't circulate and stay in your purse. If it were
not for that, life would be too fine."
He was jovial and benevolent. When Nanon came
with her spinning-wheel, " You must be tired," he
said; "put away your hemp."
" Ah, bah! then I shall get sleep}-," she answered.
" Poor Nanon ! Will you have some ratafia? "
"I won't refuse a good offer; madame makes it a
deal better than the apothecaries. What they sell
is all drugs."
" They put too much sugar," said the master; "you
can't taste anything else."
184
Eugenie Cfrandet.
IX.
The following clay the family, meeting at eight o'clock
for the early breakfast, made a picture of genuine do¬
mestic intimacy. Grief had drawn Madame Grandet,
Eugenie, and Charles en rapport; even Nanon sym¬
pathized, without knowing wh}\ The four now made
one family. As to the old man, his satisfied avarice
and the certainty of soon getting rid of the dandy
without having to pay more than his journey to Nantes,
made him nearly indifferent to his presence in the house.
He left the two children, as he called Charles and Eu¬
genie, free to conduct themselves as the}* pleased, under
the eye of Madame Grandet, in whom he had implicit
confidence as to all that concerned public and religious
morality. He busied himself in straightening the boun¬
daries of his fields and ditches along the high-road, in
his poplar-plantations beside the Loire, in the winter
work of his vineyards, and at Froidfond. All these
things occupied his whole time.
For Eugenie the springtime of love had come.
Since the scene at night when she gave her little
treasure to her cousin, her heart had followed the
Eugenie Qrandet. 185
treasure. Confederates in the same secret, they looked
at each other with a mutual intelligence which sank to
the depth of their consciousness, giving a closer com¬
munion, a more intimate relation to their feelings, and
putting them, so to speak, beyond the pale of ordinary
life. Did not their near relationship warrant the gen¬
tleness in their tones, the tenderness in their glances?
Eugenie took delight in lulling her cousin's pain with
the pretty childish joys of a new-born love. Are there
no sweet similitudes between the birth of love and the
birth of life? Do we not rock the babe with gentle
songs and softest glances ? Do we not tell it marvel¬
lous tales of the golden future ? Hope herself, does she
not spread her radiant wings above its head? Does
it not shed, with infant fickleness, its tears of sorrow
and its tears of joy? Does it not fret for trifles, cry
for the pretty pebbles with which to build its shifting
palaces, for the flowers forgotten as soon as plucked?
Is it not eager to grasp the coming time, to spring for¬
ward into life? Love is our second transformation-
Childhood and love were one and the same thing to
Eugenie and to Charles; it was a first passion, with all
its child-like play, — the more caressing to their hearts
because they now were wrapped in sadness. Struggling
at birth against the gloom of mourning, their love was
only the more in harmony with the provincial plainness
of that gniy and ruined house. As they exchanged a
186 Eugenie Grandet.
few words beside the well in the silent court, or lingered
in the garden for the sunset hour, sitting on a mossy
seat saying to each other the infinite nothings of love,
or mused in the silent calm which reigned between the
house and the ramparts like that beneath the arches of
a church, Charles comprehended the sanctity of love ;
for his great lady, his dear Annette, had taught him
only its stormy troubles. At this moment he left the
worldty passion, coquettish, vain, and showy as it was,
and turned to the true, pure love. He liked even the
house, whose customs no longer seemed to him ridicu¬
lous. He got up early in the mornings that he might
talk with Eugenie for a mbment before her father came
to dole out the provisions; when the steps of the old
man sounded on the staircase he escaped into the gar¬
den. The small criminality of this morning tete-a-tete
which Nanon pretended not to see, gave to their innocent
love the lively charm of a forbidden joy.
After breakfast, when Grandet had gone to his fields
and his other occupations, Charles remained with the
mother and daughter, finding an unknown pleasure in
holding their skeins, in watching them at work, in lis¬
tening to their ojuiet prattle. The simplicity cf this
half-monastic life, which revealed to him the beaut}' of
these souls, unknown and unknowing of the world,
touched him keenly. He had believed such morals
impossible in France, and admitted their existence
EugSnie Grrandet. 187
nowhere but in Germany; even so, they seemed to him
fabulous, only real in the novels of Auguste Lafon-
taine. Soon Eugenie became to him the Margaret of
Goethe — before her fall. Day by clay his words, his
looks enraptured the poor girl, who yielded herself up
with delicious non-resistance to the current of love ; she
caught her happiness as a swimmer seizes the over¬
hanging branch of a willow to draw himself from the
river and lie at rest upon its shore. Did no dread
of a coming absence sadden the happy hours of those
fleeting days ? Daily some little circumstance reminded
them of the parting that was at hand.
Three clays after the departure of des Grassins,
Grandet took his nephew to the Civil courts, with the
solemnity which country people attach to all legal acts,
that he might sign a deed surrendering his rights in
his father's estate. Terrible renunciation! species of
domestic apostasy! Charles also went before Maitre
Cruchot to make two powers of attorney, — one for cles
Grassins, the other for the friend whom he had charged
with the sale of his belongings. After that he attended
to all the formalities necessary to obtain a passport for
foreign countries ; and finally, when he received his sim¬
ple mourning clothes from Paris, he sent for the tailor
of SaumUi." and sold to him his useless wardrobe. This
last act pleased Grandet exceedingly.
<. All! now you look like a man prepared to embark
1"° Eugenie Grandet.
and make your fortune," lie said-, when Cliarles ap¬
peared in a surtout of plain black cloth. "Good!
very good! "
" I hope you will believe, monsieur," answered his
nephew, " that I shall always try to conform to my
situation."
" What's that? " said his uncle, his eyes lighting up
at a handful of gold which Charles was carrying.
'' Monsieur, I have collected all my buttons and rings
and other superfluities which may have some value ; but
not knowing any one in Saumur, I wanted to ask you
to — "
'' To buy them ? " said Grandet, interrupting him.
"No, uncle; only to tell me of an honest man
who — "
" Give me those things, I will go upstairs and esti¬
mate their value ; I will come back and tell you what it
is to a fraction. Jeweller's gold," examining a long
chain, " eighteen or nineteen carats."
The goodman held out his huge hand and received
the mass of gold, which he carried away.
" Cousin," said Charles, " ma}' I offer you these two
buttons ? They can fasten ribbons round your wrists ;
that sort of bracelet is much the fashion just now."
" I accept without hesitation," she answered, giving
him an understanding look.
" Aunt, here is 1x13- mother's thimble ; I have always
Eugenie Grandet. 189
kept it carefully in my dressing-case," said Charles,
presenting a pretty gold thimble to Madame Grandet,
who for many years had longed for one.
" I cannot thank you; no words are possible, my
nephew," said the poor mother, whose ej^es filled with
tears. " Night and morning in my prayers I shall add
one for you, the most earnest of all — for those who
travel. If I die, Eugenie will keep this treasure for
you."
" They are worth nine hundred and eighty-nine
francs, seventj^-five centimes," said Grandet, opening
the door. " To save you the pain of selling them,
I will advance the money — in livres."
The word livres on the littoral of the Loire signifies
that crown prices of six livres are to be accepted as six
francs without deduction.
" I dared not propose it to you," answered Charles ;
" but it was most repugnant to me to sell my jewels to
some second-hand dealer in your own town. People
should wash their dirty linen at home, as Napoleon
said. I thank you for your kindness."
Grandet scratched his ear, and there was a moment's
silence.
" My dear uncle," resumed Charles, looking at him
with an uneasy air, as if he feared to wound his feel¬
ings, " my aunt and cousin have been kind enough to
accept a trilling remembrance of me. "Will you allow me
la
190 EugSnie Qrandet.
to give you these sleeve-buttons, which are useless to
me now ? They will remind you of a poor fellow who,
far away, will always think of those who are henceforth
all his family."
" My lad, my lad, you must n't rob yourself this way!
Let me see, wife, what have you got?" he added, turn¬
ing eagerly to her. "Ah! a gold thimble. And you,
little girl? What! diamond buttons? Yes, I '11 accept
your present, nephew," he answered, shaking Charles
by the hand. " But — you must let me — pay — your
■— yes, your passage to the Indies. Yes, I wish to pay
your passage because — d 'ye see, my boy ?—in valuing
your jewels I estimated only the weight of the gold;
very likely the workmanship is worth something. So
let us settle it that I am to give you fifteen hundred
francs — in livres ; Cruchot will lend them to me. I
have n't got a copper farthing here, — unless Perrotet,
who is behindhand with his rent, should pay up. By
the b}re, I '11 go and see him."
He took his hat, put on his gloves, and went out.
" Then you are really going?" said Eugenie to her
cousin, with a sad look, mingled with admiration.
" I must," he said, bowing his head.
For some days past, Charles's whole bearing, manners,
and speech had become those of a man who, in spite of
his profound affliction, feels the weight of immense
obligations and has the strength to gather courage from
EugSnie Grandet.
191
misfortune. He no longer repined, he became a man.
Eugenie never augured better of her cousin's character
than when she saw Mm come down in the plain black
clothes which suited well with his pale face and sombre
countenance. On that day the two women put on their
own mourning, and all three assisted at a Requiem
celebrated in the parish church for the soul of the late
Guillaume Grandet.
At the second breakfast Charles received letters from
Paris and began to read them.
" Well, cousin, are you satisfied with the manage¬
ment of your affairs?" said Eugenie in a low voice.
" Never ask such questions, my daughter," said
Grandet. "What the devil! do I tell you my affairs?
Why do you poke your nose into your cousin's ? Let
the lad alone !"
" Oh ! I have n't any secrets," said Charles.
" Ta, ta, ta, ta, nephew; you'll soon find out that
you must hold your tongue in business."
AVhen the two lovers were alone in the garden,
Charles said to Eugenie, drawing her down on the
old bench beneath the walnut-tree, —
'' I did right to trust Alphonse; he ha,3 done fa¬
mously. lie has managed my affairs with prudence
and good faith. I now owe nothing in Paris. All
my things have been sold; and he tells me that he
has taken the advice of an old sea-captain and spent
192 Eugenie Grrandet.
three thousand francs on a commercial outfit of Euro¬
pean curiosities which, will be sure to be in demand in
the Indies. He has sent my trunks to Nantes, where a
ship is loading for San Domingo. In five days, Euge¬
nie, w;e must bid each other farewell — perhaps forever,
at least for years. My outfit and ten thousand francs,
which two of my friends send me, are a very small
beginning. I cannot look to return for many years.
My dear cousin, do not weigh your life in the scales
with mine ; I may perish ; some good marriage may be
offered to you — "
" Do you love me? " she said.
" Oh, yes ! indeed, yes! " he answered, with a depth
of tone that revealed an equal depth of feeling.
"I shall wait, Charles— Good heavens! there is
my father at his window," she said, repulsing her
cousin, who leaned forward to kiss her.
She ran quickly under the archway. Charles fol¬
lowed her. When she saw him, she retreated to the
foot of the staircase and opened the swing-door; then,
scarcely knowing where she was going, Eugenie reached
the corner near Nanon's den, at the darkest end of the
passage. There Charles caught her hand and drew her
to his heart. Passing his arm about her waist, he made
her lean gently upon him. Eugenie no longer resisted ;
she received and gave the purest, the sweetest, and yet,
withal, the most unreserved of kisses.
Eugenie Grrandet.
190
" Dear Eugenie, a cousin is better than a brother,
for he can marry you," said Charles.
"So be it!" cried Nanon, opening the door of her
lair.
The two lovers, alarmed, fled into the hall, where
Eugenie took up her work and Charles began to read
the litanies of the Virgin in Madame Grandet's prayer-
book.
" Mercy! " cried Nanon, " now they 're saying their
prayers."
As soon as Charles announced his immediate depar¬
ture, Grandet bestirred himself to testify much interest
in his nephew. He became very liberal of all that cost
him nothing; took pains to find a packer; declared the
man asked too much for his cases ; insisted on making
them himself out of old planks; got up early in the
morning to fit and plane and nail together the strips,
out of which he made, to his own satisfaction, some
strong cases, in which he packed all Charles's effects ;
he also took upon himself to send them by boat down
the Loire, to insure them, and get them to Nantes in
proper time.
After the kiss taken in the passage, the hours fled for
Eugenie with frightful rapidit}-. Sometimes she thought
of following her cousin. Those who have known that
most endearing of all passions, — the one whose duration
is each day shortened by time, b}r age, by mortal illness.
194 EugSnie Grrandet,
by human chances and fataljties, — they will under¬
stand the poor girl's tortures. She wept as she walked
in the garden, now so narrow to her, as indeed the
court, the house, the town all seemed. She launched
in thought upon the wide expanse of the ocean he was
about to traverse. At last the eve of his departure came.
That morning, in the absence of Grandet and of Nanon,
the precious case which contained the two portraits was
solemnly installed in the only drawer of the old cabinet
which could be locked, where the now empty velvet
purse was lying. This deposit was not made without
a goodly number of tears and kisses. When Eugenie
placed the key within her bosom she had no courage to
forbid the kiss with which Charles sealed the act.
" It shall never leave that place, my friend," she
said.
" Then my heart will be always there."
"Ah! Charles, it is not right," she said, as though
she blamed him.
"Are we not married?" he said. "I have thy
promise, — then take mine,"
" Thine ; I am thine forever! " they each said, repeat¬
ing the words twice over.
No promise made upon this earth was ever purer.
The innocent sincerity of Eugenie had sanctified for a
moment the young man's love.
On the morrow the breakfast was sad. Nanon her-
Eyg4nie Grandet.
195
self, in spite of the gold-embroidered robe and a Jean-
nette cross bestowed by Charles, had tears in her eyes.
" The poor dear monsieur who is going on the seas —
oh, may God guide him !"
At half-past ten the whole family started to escort
Charles to the diligence for Nantes. Nanon let loose
the dog, locked the door, and insisted on carrying the
3Toung man's carpet-bag. All the tradesmen in the
tortuous old street were on the sill of their shop-doors
to watch the procession, which was joined in the market¬
place by Maitre Cruchot.
" Eugenie, be sure you don't cry," said her mother.
"Nephew," said Grandet in the doorway of the inn
from which the coach started, kissing Charles on both
cheeks, "depart poor, return rich; jmu will find the
honor of your father safe. I answer for that myself,
I — Grandet; for it will only depend on you to — "
"Ah! my uncle, you soften the bitterness of my
departure. Is it not the best gift that you could make
me?"
Not understanding his uncle's words which he had
thus interrupted, Charles shed tears of gratitude upon
the tanned cheeks of the old miser, while Eugenie
pressed the hand of her cousin and that of her father
with all her strength. The notary smiled, admiring the
sly speech of the old man, which he alone had under¬
stood. The family stood about the coach until it
196 Evgtnie Grandet.
started; therfas it disappeared upon the bridge, and
its rumble grew fainter in the distance, Grandet said:
'' Good-by to you ! "
Happily no one but Maitre Crucliot heard the excla¬
mation. Eugenie and her mother had gone to a corner
of the quay from which the}' could still see the diligence
and wave their white handkerchiefs, to which Charles
made answer by displaying his.
"Ah! mother, would that I had the power of God
for a single moment," said Eugenie, when she could no
longer see her lover's handkerchief.
Not to interrupt the current of events which are
about to take place in the bosom of the Grandet family,
it is necessary to cast a forestalling eye upon the vari¬
ous operations which the goodman carried on in Paris
by means of Monsieur des Grassins. A month after
the latter's departure from Saumur, Grandet became
possessed of a certificate of a hundred thousand francs a
year from his investment in the Funds, bought at eight}'
francs net. The particulars revealed at his death by the
inventory of his property threw no light upon the means
which his suspicious nature took to remit the price of
the investment and receive the certificate thereof.
Maitre Crucliot was of opinion that Nanon, unknown
to herself, was the trusty instrument by which the
money was transported; for about this time she was
EugSnie Grrandet.
197
absent five days, under a pretext of putting things to
rights at Froidfond, — as if the goodman were capable
of leaving anything lying about or out of order!
In all that concerned the business of the house of
Guillaume Grandet the old cooper's intentions were
fulfilled to the letter. The Bank of France, as every-
body knows, affords exact information about all the
large fortunes in Paris and the provinces. The names
of des Grassins and Felix Grandet of Saumur were well
known there, and they enjoj-ed the esteem bestowed on
financial celebrities whose wealth comes from immense
and unencumbered territorial possessions. The arrival
of the Saumur banker for the purpose, it was said, of
honorably liquidating the affairs of Grandet of Paris,
was enough to avert the shame of protested notes from
the memory of the defunct merchant. The seals on the
property were taken off in presence of the creditors,
and the notary employed by Grandet went to work at
once on the inventory of the assets. Soon after this,
des Grassins called a meeting of the creditors, who
unanimously elected him, conjointly with Francois Kel¬
ler, the head of a rich banking-house and one of those
principally interested in the affair, as liquidators, with
full power to protect both the honor of the fa mil}* and
the interests of the claimants. The credit of Grandet
of Saumur, the hopes he diffused by means of des Gras¬
sins into the minds of all concerned, facilitated the trans-
198 Eugenie Grandet.
actions. Not a single creditor proved recalcitrant; no
one thought of passing his claim to his profit-and-loss
account; each and all said confidently, '' Grandet of
Saumur -will pay."
Six months went by. The Parisians had redeemed
the notes in circulation as they fell due, and held
them under lock and key in their desks. First result
aimed at by the old cooper! Nine months after this
preliminary meeting, the two liquidators distributed
forty-seven per cent to each creditor on his claim.
This amount was obtained by the sale of the securities,
property, and possessions of all kinds belonging to the
late Guillaume Grandet, and was paid over with scrupu¬
lous fidelity. Unimpeachable integrity was shown in
the transaction. The creditors gratefully acknowledged
the remarkable and incontestable honor displa}'ed by the
Granclets. When these praises had circulated for a
certain length of time, the creditors asked for the rest
of their money. It became necessary to write a collec¬
tive letter to Grandet of Saumur.
" Here it comes ! " said the old man as he threw the
letter into the fire. " Patience, my good friends ! "
In answer to the proposals contained in the letter,
Grandet of Saumur demanded that all vouchers for
claims against the estate of his brother should be de¬
posited with a notary, together with acquittances for the
forty-seven per cent already paid ; he made this demand
EugSnie Grandet.
199
under pretence of sifting the accounts and finding out
the exact condition of the estate. It roused at once a
variety of difficulties. Generally speaking, the creditor
is a species of maniac, ready to agree to anything
one day, on the next breathing fire and slaughter;
later on, he grows amicable and easy-going. To-day his
wife is good-humored, his last baby has cut its first
tooth, all is well at home, and he is determined not
to lose a sou; on the morrow it rains, he can't go out,
he is gloomy, he says yes to any proposal that is made
to him, so long as it will put an end to the affair; on
the third day he declares he must have guarantees ; by
the end of the month he wants his debtor's head, and
becomes at heart an executioner. The creditor is a
good deal like the sparrow on whose tail confiding
children are invited to put salt, — with this difference,
that he applies the image to his claim, the proceeds of
which he is never able to lay hold of. Grandet had
studied the atmospheric variations of creditors, and
the creditors of his brother justified all his calculations.
Some were angry, and flatly refused to give in their
vouchers.
"Very good; so much the better,'- said Grandet,
rubbing his hands over the letter in which des Grassins
announced the fact.
Others agreed to the demand, but only en condi¬
tion that their rights should be fully guaranteed ; they
200
Eugenie Grrandet.
renounced none, and even reserved the power of ulti-
matety compelling a failure. On this began a long corre¬
spondence, which ended in Grandet of Saumur agreeing
to all conditions. By means of this concession the
placable creditors were able to bring the dissatisfied
creditors to reason. The deposit was then made, but
not without sundry complaints.
"Your goodman," they said to des Grassins, "is
tricking us."
Twenty-three months after the death of Guillaume
Grandet many of the creditors, carried away by more
pressing business in the markets of Paris, had forgotten
their Grandet claims, or only thought of them to say:
'' I begin to believe that forty-seven per cent is all I
shall ever get out of that affair."
The old cooper had calculated on the power of time,
which, as he used to say, is a pretty good devil after
all. By the end of the third year des Grassins wrote
to Grandet that he had brought the creditors to agree
to give up their claims for ten per cent on the two
million four hundred thousand francs still due by the
house of Grandet. Grandet answered that the notary
and the broker whose shameful failures had caused the
death of his brother were still living, that they might
now have recovered their credit, and that they ought
to be sued, so as to get something out of them towards
lessening the total of the deficit.
Eugenie Girandet. 201
By the end of the fourth year the liabilities were
definitely estimated at a sum of twelve hundred thou¬
sand francs. Many negotiations, lasting over six
months, took place between the creditors and the liqui¬
dators, and between the liquidators and Grandet. To
make a long story short, Grandet of Saumur, anxious
by this time to get out of the affair, told the liquidators,
about the ninth month of the fourth year, that his
nephew had made a fortune in the Indies and was dis¬
posed to pay his father's debts in full; he therefore
could not take upon himself to make any settlement with¬
out previously consulting him; he had written to him,
and was expecting an answer. The creditors were held
in check until the middle of the fifth year by the words,
" payment in full," which the wily old miser threw out
from time to time as he laughed in his beard, saj'ing
with a smile and an oath, "Those Parisians!"
But the creditors were reserved for a fate unexampled
in the annals of commerce. When the events of this
history bring them once more into notice, they will be
found still in the position Grandet had resolved to force
them into from the first.
As soon as the Funds reached a hundred and fifteen,
Pore Grandet sold out his interests and withdrew two
million four hundred thousand francs in gold, to which
he added, in his coffers, the six hundred thousand francs
compound interest which he had derived from the capi-
202 Eugenie Qrandet.
tal. Des Grassins now lived in Paris- In the first
place he had been made a deputy; then he became
infatuated (father of a family as he was, though horribly
bored by the provincial life of Saumur) with a pretty
actress at the Theatre de Madame, known as Florine,
and he presently relapsed into the old habits of his
army life. It is useless to speak of his conduct; Sau¬
mur considered it profoundly immoral. His wife was
fortunate in the fact of her property being settled upon
herself, and in having sufficient ability to keep up the
banking-house in Saumur, which was managed in her
name and repaired the breach in her fortune caused by
the extravagance of her husband. The Cruchotines
made so much talk about the false position of the quasi-
widow that she married her daughter very badly, and
was forced to give up all hope of an alliance between
Eugenie Grandet and her son. Adolphe joined his
father in Paris and became, it was said, a worthless
fellow. The Cruchots triumphed.
" Your husband has n't common sense," said Grandet
as he lent Madame des Grassins some money on a note
securely indorsed. " I am very sorry for you; for you
are a good little woman."
"Ah, monsieur," said the poor lady, "who could
have believed that when he left Saumur to go to Paris
011 your business he was going to his ruin ? " _
" Heaven is my witness, madarne, that up to the last
Eugenie Grandet. 203
moment I did all I could to prevent him from going.
Monsieur le president was most anxious to take his
place; but he was determined to go, and now we all
see why."
In this way Grandet made it quite plain that he was
under no obligation to des Grassins.
In all situations women have more cause for suffering
than men, and they suffer more. Man has strength and
the power of exercising it; he acts, moves, thinks,
occupies himself; he looks ahead, and sees consolation
in the future. It was thus with Charles. But the
woman stays at home ; she is always face to face with
the grief from which nothing distracts her; she goes
down to the depths of the abyss which yawns before
her, measures it, and often fills it with her tears and
prayers. Thus did Eugenie. She initiated herself
into her destiny. To feel, to love, to suffer, to devote
herself, — is not this the sum of woman's life? Eugenie
was to be in all things a woman, except in the one
thing that consoles for all. Her happiness, picked up
like nails scattered on a wall — to use the fine simile of
Bossuet — would never so much as fill even the hollow
of her hand. Sorrows are never long in coming; for
her they came soon. The day after Charles's departure
the house of Monsieur Grandet resumed its ordinary
aspect in the eyes of all, except in those of Eugenie, to
204 Eugenie Grandet.
whom it grew suddenly empty. She wished, if it could
he done unknown to her father, that Charles's room
might be kept as he had left it. Madame Grandet and
IS anon were willing accomplices in this statu quo.
" Who knows but he ma}7 come back sooner than we
think for? " she said.
" Ah, don't I wish I could see him back ! " answered
Nanon. " I took to him! He was such a dear, sweet
young man, — pretty too, with his curl}7 hair." Euge¬
nie looked at Nanon. "Holy Virgin! don't look at
me that way, mademoiselle; your eyes are like those
of a lost soul."
From that day the beauty of Mademoiselle Grandet
took a new character. The solemn thoughts of love
which slowly filled her soul, and the dignity of the
woman beloved, gave to her features an illumination
such as painters render b}7 a halo. Before the coming
of her cousin, Eugenie might be compared to the Virgin
before the conception; after he had gone, she was
like the Virgin Mother, — she had given birth to love.
These two Marys so different, so well represented by
Spanish art, embody one of those shining symbols with
which Christianity abounds.
Keturning from Mass on the morning after Charles's
departure, — having made a vow to hear it daily, — Euge¬
nie bought a map of the world, which she nailed up beside
her looking-glass, that she might follow her cousin on
Eugenie Grandct. 205
Lis westward wa}r, that she might put herself, were it
ever so little, day by day into the ship that bore him,
and see him and ask him a thousand questions, — " Art
thou well? Dost thou suffer? Dost thou think of me
when the star, whose beauty and usefulness thou hast
taught me to know, shines upon thee ? " In the morn¬
ings she sat pensive beneath the walnut-tree, on the
worm-eaten bench covered with gray lichens, where
they had said to each other so many precious things,
so many trifles, where they had built the pretty castles
of their future home. She thought of the future now
as she looked upward to the bit of sky which was all
the high walls suffered her to see ; then she turned her
eyes to the angle where the sun crept on, and to the
roof above the room in which he had slept. Hers was
the solitary love, the persistent love, which glides into
every thought and becomes the substance, or, as our
fathers might have said, the tissue of life. When the
would-be friends of Pere Grandet came in the evening
for their game at cards, she was gay and dissimulating;
but all the morning she talked of Charles with her
mother and Nanon. Nanon had brought herself to see
that she could pity the sufferings of her young mistress
without failing in her duty to the old master, and she
would say to Eugenie, —
" If I had a man for myself I'd — I'd follow him
to hell, yes, I'd exterminate myself for him ; but I've
it
206 EugSnie Cfrandet.
none. I shall die and never know what life is. Would
you believe, mamz'elle, that old Cornoiller (a good
fellow all the same) is always round my petticoats
for the sake of my money,—just for all the world like
the rats who come smelling after the master's cheese
and paying court to you ? I see it all; I 've got a
shrewd eye, though I am as big as a steeple. Well,
mamz'elle, it pleases me, but it isn't love."
Eugenie Qrandet.
207
X.
Two months went by. This domestic life, once so
monotonous, was now quickened with the intense inter¬
est of a secret that bound these women intimately
together. For them Charles lived and moved beneath
the grim gray rafters of the hall. Night and morning
Eugenie opened the dressing-case and gazed at the
portrait of her aunt. One Sunday morning her mother
surprised her as she stood absorbed in finding her
cousin's features in his mother's face. Madame Gran-
det was then for the first time admitted into the terrible
secret of the exchange made by Charles against her
daughter's treasure.
" You gave him all! " cried the poor mother, terrified.
" What will you say to your father on New Year's Day
when he asks to see your gold ? "
Eugenie's eyes grew fixed, and the two women lived
through mortal terror for more than half the morning.
They were so troubled in mind that they missed high
Mass, and only went to the military service. In three
days the year 1819 would come to an end. In three
days a terrible drama would begin, a bourgeois tragedy,
208 Eugenie Grandet.
without poison, or dagger, or the spilling of blood;
but — as regards the actors in it — more cruel than all
the fabled horrors in the family of the Atrides.
" What will become of us? " said Madame Grandet
to her daughter, letting her knitting fall upon her
knees.
The poor mother had gone through such anxiety for
the past two months that the woollen sleeves which
she needed for the coming winter were not yet finished.
This domestic fact, insignificant as it seems, bore sad
results. For want of those sleeves, a chill seized her
in the midst of a sweat caused by a terrible explosion
of anger on the part of her husband.
"I have been thinking, m}7 poor child, that if you
had confided your secret to me we should have had
time to write to Monsieur des Grassins in Paris. He
might have sent us gold pieces like yours; though
Grandet knows them all, perhaps—"
'' Where could we have got the money ?"
" I would have pledged my own property. Besides,
Monsieur des Grassins would have — "
"It is too late," said Eugenie in a broken, hollow
voice. "To-morrow morning we must go and wish
him a happy New Year in his chamber."
"But, my daughter, why should I not consult the
Cruchots ? "
" No, no; it would be delivering me up to them, and
Eugenie GirandLet.
209
putting, ourselves in their power. Besides, I have
chosen my course. I have done right, I repent of
nothing. God will protect me. His will be done!
Ah! mother, if you had read his letter, you, too, would
have thought only of him."
The next morning, January 1, 1820, the horrible fear
to which mother and daughter were a prey suggested
to their minds a natural excuse by which to escape the
solemn entrance into Grandet's chamber. The winter
of 1819-1820 was one of the coldest of that epoch.
The snow encumbered the roofs.
Madame Grandet called to her husband as soon as
she heard him stirring in his chamber, and said, —
"Grandet, will you let Nanon light a fire here for
me ? The cold is so sharp that I am freezing under the
bedclothes. At my age I need some comforts. Be¬
sides," she added, after a slight pause, " Eugenie shall
come and dress here ; the poor child might get an ill¬
ness from dressing in her cold room in such weather.
Then we will go and wish you a happy New Year beside
the fire in the hall."
" Ta, ta, ta, ta, what a tongue! a pretty way to
begin the new }*ear, Ma'ame Grandet! You never
talked so much before ; but you have n't been sopping
your bread in wine, I know that."
There was a moment's silence.
"Well," resumed the goodman, who no doubt had
210 Eugenie Cfrandet.
some reason of his own for agreeing to his wife's re¬
quest, " I '11 do what you ask, Madame Grandet. You
are a good woman, and I don't want any harm to hap¬
pen to you at your time of life, —though as a general
thing the Bertellieres are as sound as a roach. Hein!
isn't that so?" he added after a pause. "Well, I
forgive them ; we got their property in the end." And
he coughed.
"You are very gay this morning, monsieur," said the
poor woman gravely.
" I'm always gay, —
" ' Gai, gai, gai, le tonnelier,
Raccommodez votre cuvier!'"
he answered, entering his wife's room fully dressed.
"Yes, on my word, it is cold enough to freeze 3*011
solid. We shall have a fine breakfast, wife. Des
Grassins has sent me a pate-de-foie-gras truffled ! I am
going now to get it at the coach-office. There '11 be a
double napoleon for Eugenie in the package," he whis¬
pered in Madame Grandet's ear. " I have no gold left,
wife. I had a few stra3r pieces — I don't mind telling
you that — butl had to let them go in business."
Then, by way of celebrating the new year, he kissed
her on the forehead.
" Eugenie," cried the mother, when Grandet was
fairly gone, " I don't know which side of the bed your
Eugenie Grrandet. 211
father got out of, but he is good-tempered this morning.
Perhaps we shall come out safe after all."
"What's happened to the master?" said Nanon,
entering her mistress's room to light the fire. " First
place, he said, ' Good-morning; happy New Year, you
big fool! Go and light my wife's fire, she's cold;' and
then, did n't I feel silly when he held out his hand and
gave me a six-franc piece, which is n't worn one bit?
Just look at it, madame! Oh, the kind man! He is
a good man, that's a fact. There are some people who
the older they get the harder they grow ; but he, — why
he's getting soft and improving with time, like your
ratafia! He is a good, good man — "
The secret of Grandet's joy lay in the complete suc¬
cess of his speculation. Monsieur des Grassins, after
deducting the amount which the old cooper owed him
for the discount on a hundred and fifty thousand francs
in Dutch notes, and for the surplus which he had ad¬
vanced to make up the sum required for the investment
in the Funds which was to produce a hundred thousand
francs a year, had now sent him, by the diligence,
thirty thousand francs in silver coin, the remainder of
his first half-year's interest, informing him at the same
time that the Funds had already gone up in value.
They were then quoted at eighty-nine; the shrewdest
capitalists bought in, towards the last of January, at
ninety-three. Grandet had thus gained in two months
212 Eugenie Grandet.
twelve per cent on his capital; he had simplified his
accounts, and would in future receive fifty thousand
francs interest every six months, without incurring any
taxes or costs for repairs. He understood at last what
it was to invest money in the public securities, — a
system for which provincials have always shown a
marked repugnance, — and at the end of five years he
found himself master of a capital of six millions, which
increased without much effort of his own, and which,
joined to the value and proceeds of his territorial pos¬
sessions, gave him a fortune that was absolutely colos¬
sal. The six francs bestowed on Nanon were perhaps
the reward of some great service which the poor servant
had rendered to her master unawares.
"Oh! oh! where's Pere Grandet going? He has
been skurrying about since sunrise as if to a fire,"
said the tradespeople to each other as they opened their
shops for the day.
When they saw him coming back from the wharf,
followed by a porter from the coach-office wheeling a
barrow which -was laden with sacks, they all had their
comments to make : —
"Water flows to the river; the old fellow was run¬
ning after his gold," said one.
" He gets it from Paris and Froidfond and Holland,"
said another.
" He '11 end by buying up Saumur," cried a third.
Eugenie Grandet. 213
" He doesn't mind the cold, he's so wrapped up in
his gains," said a wife to her husband.
" Hey ! hey ! Monsieur Grandet, if that's too heavy
for you," said a cloth-dealer, his nearest neighbor, "I'll
take it off your hands."
" Heavy? " said the cooper, " I should think so ; it's
all sous! "
" Silver sous," said the porter in a low voice.
"If you want me to take care of you, keep your
tongue between your teeth," said the goodman to the
porter as they reached the door.
" The old fox! I thought he was deaf; seems he can
hear fast enough in frosty weather."
" Here's twenty sous for }Tour New Year, and mum ! "
said Grandet. "Be off with you! Nanon shall take
back your barrow. Nanon, are the linnets at church? "
" Yes, monsieur."
'' Then lend a hand ! go to work ! " he cried, piling
the sacks upon her. In a few moments all were carried
up to liis-inner room, where he shut himself in with
them. " When breakfast is ready, knock on the wall,"
he said as he disappeared. "Take the barrow back
to the coach-office."
The family did not breakfast that day until ten
o'clock.
" Your father will not ask to see your gold down¬
stairs," said Madame Grandet as they got back from
214 EugSnie Grandet.
Mass. "You must pretend to be very chilly. We
may have time to replace the treasure before your
fete-day."
Grandet came down the staircase thinking of his
splendid speculation in government securities, and won¬
dering how he could metamorphose his Parisian silver
into solid gold; he was making up his mind to invest
in this way everything he could lay hands on until
the Funds should reach a par value. Fatal revery for
Eugenie! As soon as he came in, the two women
wished him a happy New Year, —his daughter by put¬
ting her [arms round his neck and caressing him;
Madame Grandet gravely and with dignity.
"Ha! ha! my child," he said, kissing his daughter
on both cheeks. " I work for you, don't you see? I
think of your happiness. Must have money to be
happy. Without money there's not a particle of hap¬
piness. Here ! there's a new napoleon for you. I sent
to Paris for it. On my word of honor, it's all the gold
I have; you are the only one that has got any gold.
I want to see your gold, little one."
"Oh! it is too cold; let us have breakfast," answered
Eugenie.
" Well, after breakfast, then; it will help the diges¬
tion. That fat des Grassins sent me the pate. Eat as
much as you like, my children, it costs nothing. Des
Grassins is getting along very well. I am satisfied
Eugenie Grandet. 215
with him. The old fish is doing Charles a good service,
and gratis too. He is making a very good settlement
of that poor deceased Grandet's business. Hoo! hoo !"
he muttered, with his mouth full, after a pause, " how
good it is ! Eat some, wife ; that will feed you for at
least two days."
"I am not hungry. I am very poorly; you know
that."
"Ah, bah! you can stuff yourself as full as you
please without danger, you 're a Bertelliere; the}' are
all hearty. You are a bit yellow, that's true; but I
like yellow, myself."
The expectation of ignominious and public death is
perhaps less horrible to a condemned criminal than the
anticipation of what was coming after breakfast to
Madame Grandet and Eugenie. The more gleefully
the old man talked and ate, the more their hearts shrank
within them. The daughter, however, had an inward
prop at this crisis, —she gathered strength through
love.
" For him ! for him! " she cried within her, " I would
die a thousand deaths."
At this thought, she shot a glance at her mother
which flamed with courage.
"Clear away," said Grandet to Nanon when, about
eleven o'clock, breakfast was over, "but leave the
table. We can spread j-our little treasure upon it," he
216 Eugenie Grandet.
said, looking at Eugenie. " Little? Faith! no ; it is n't
little. You possess, in actual value, five thousand nine
hundred and fifty-nine francs and the forty I gave you
just now. That makes six thousand francs, less one.
"Well, now see here, little one ! I'll give 3*ou that one
franc to make up the round number. He}*! what are
3*ou listening for, Nanon? Mind 3*our own business;
go and do 3*0111' work."
Nanon disappeared.
"Now listen, Eugenie : 3*ou must give me back your
gold. You won't refuse 3*0111- father, m3T little girl,
hein ?"
The two women were dumb.
"I have 110 gold myself. I had some, but it is all
gone. I '11 give 3*011 in return six thousand francs in
livres, and 3*011 are to put them just where I tell 3*011.
You must n't think an3*tking more about 3*0111' ' dozen.'
When I many 3*011 (which will be soon) I shall get 3*011
a husband who can give 3*011 the finest ' dozen' ever
seen in the provinces. Now attend to me, little girl.
There's a fine chance for 3tou ; 3*011 can put 3*our six
thousand francs into government funds, and 3*011 will
receive eveiy six months nearly two hundred francs
interest, without taxes, or repairs, or frost, 01* hail, or
floods, or anything else to swallow up the mone3*.
Perhaps 3*011 don't like to part with 3*0111* gold, he3*, ny
girl? Never mind, bring it to me all the same. I'll
Eugenie Grandet.
217
get you some more like it, — like those Dutch coins and
the portugciises, the rupees of Mogul, and the genovines,
— I'll give you some more on your fete-days, and in
three years you '11 have got hack half your little treasure.
What's that }rou say? Look up, now. Come, go and
get it, the precious metal. You ought to kiss me on
the eyelids for telling you the secrets and the mysteries
of the life and death of money. Yes, silver and gold
live and swarm like men; they come, and go, and
sweat, and multiply — "
Eugenie rose ; but after making a few steps towards
the door she turned abruptly, looked her father in the
face, and said, —
'' I have not got my gold."
"You have not got your gold ! " cried Grandet, start¬
ing up erect, like a horse that hears a cannon fired
beside him.
" No, I have not got it."
" You are mistaken, Eugenie."
"No."
'' By the shears of my father! "
Whenever the old man swore that oath the rafters
trembled.
"Holy Virgin! Madame is turning pale," cried
Nanon.
" Grandet, your anger will kill me," said the poor
mother.
218 Eugenie Grandet.
" Ta, ta, ta, ta! nonsense; you never die in your
family! Eugenie, what have you done with your
gold?" he cried, rushing upon her.
" Monsieur," said the daughter, falling at Madame
Grandet's knees, " my mother is ill. Look at her; do
not kill her."
Grandet was frightened by the pallor which over¬
spread his wife's face, usually so yellow.
" Nanon, help me to bed," said the poor woman in a
feeble voice ; "I am dying — "
Nanon gave her mistress an arm, Eugenie gave her
another; but it was only with infinite difficulty that they
could get her upstairs, she fell with exhaustion at every
step. Grandet remained alone. However, in a few
moments he went up six or eight stairs and called
out, —
" Eugenie, when your mother is in bed, come down."
" Yes, father."
She soon came, after reassuring her mother.
"My daughter," said Grandet, " you will now tell me
what you have done with your gold."
" My father, if you make me presents of which I am
not the sole mistress, take them back," she answered
coldly, picking up the napoleon from the chimney-piece
and offering it to him.
Grandet seized the coin and slipped it into his
breeches' pocket.
Eugenie Qrandet.
219
"I shall certainly never give yon anything again.
Not so much as that! " he said, clicking his thumb-nail
against a front tooth. " Do you dare to despise your
father? have you no confidence in him? Don't you
know what a father is ? If he is nothing for you, he is
nothing at all. Where is your gold? "
"Father, I love and respect you, in spite of your
anger; hut I humbly ask you to remember that I am
twenty-three years old. You have told me often that
I have attained my majority, and I do not forget it.
I have used my money as I chose to use it, and you
may be sure that it was put to a good use —"
'' What use ? "
'' That is an inviolable secret," she answered. " Have
yon no secrets ? "
"I am the head of the family; I have my own
affairs."
'' And this is mine."
" It must be something bad if you can't tell it to your
father, Mademoiselle Grandet."
" It is good, and I cannot tell it to my father."
" At least you can tell me when you parted with
3rour gold ? "
Eugenie made a negative motion with her head.
" You had it on your birthday, hein? "
She grew as crafty through love as her father was
through avarice, and reiterated the negative sign.
220 Eugenie Grandet.
"Was there ever such obstinacy! It's a theft,"
cried Grandet, his voice going up in a crescendo which
gradually echoed through the house. "What! here,
in my own home, under my very eyes, somebody has
taken your gold! — the only gold we have ! — and I'm
not to know who has got it! Gold is a precious thing.
Virtuous girls go wrong sometimes, and give — I don't
know what; the}*- do it among the great people, and
even among the bourgeoisie. But give their gold! —
for you have given it to some one, hein? — "
Eugenie was silent and impassive.
"Was there ever such a daughter? Is it possible
that I am your father? If you have invested it any¬
where, you must have a receipt — "
" Was I free — yes or no — to do what I would with
my own? Was it not mine? "
" You are a child."
" Of age."
Dumbfounded by his daughter's logic, Grandet
turned pale and stamped and swore. When at last
he found words, he cried: "Serpent! Cursed girl!
Ah, deceitful creature! You know I love you, and
you take advantage of it. She'd cut her father's
throat! Good God! you've given our fortune to that
ne'er-do-well,—that dandy with morocco boots! By
the shears of my father! I-can't disinherit you, but I
curse you,—you and your cousin and your children!
EugSnie Cfrandet.
221
Nothing good will come of it! Do you hear? If it
was to Charles — but, no ; it's impossible. What! has
that wretched fellow robbed me ? — "
He looked at his daughter, who continued cold and
silent.
"She won't stir; she won't flinch! She's more
Grandet than I'm Grandet! Ha! you have not given
3'our gold for nothing? Come, speak the truth ! "
Eugenie looked at her father with a sarcastic ex¬
pression that stung him.
"Eugenie, you are here, in my house,—in your
father's house. If you wish to stay here, you must
submit yourself to me. The priests tell you to obey
me." Eugenie bowed her head. " You affront me in
all I hold most dear. I will not see you again till you
submit. Go to your chamber. You will stay there till
I give you permission to leave it. Nanon will bring
3'ou bread and water. You hear me — go!"
Eugenie burst into tears and fled up to her mother.
Grandet, after marching two or three times round the
garden in the snow without heeding the cold, suddenly
suspected that his daughter had gone to her mother;
onty too happ3r to find her disobedient to his orders,
he climbed the stairs with the agility of a cat and
appeared in Madame Grandet's room just as she was
stroking Eugenie's hair, while the girl's face was hid¬
den in her motherly bosom.
13
222 Eugenie Crrandet.
"Be comforted, my poor child," she was saying;
" your father will get over it."
"She has no father!" said the old man. " Can it
he you and I, Madame G-randet, who have given birth
to such a disobedient child? A fine education, — reli¬
gious, too! Well! why are you not in your chamber?
Come, to prison, to prison, mademoiselle !"
" Would 3'ou deprive me of my daughter, monsieur?"
said Madame Grandet, turning towards him a face that
was now red with fever.
'' If you want to keep her, carry her off! Clear out —
out of my house, both of you! Thunder! where is
the gold ? what's become of the gold ? "
Eugenie rose, looked proudly at her father, and with¬
drew to her room. Grandet turned the key of the door.
" Nanon," he cried, " put out the fire in the hall."
Then he sat down in an armchair beside his wife's
fire and said to her, —
" Undoubtedly she has given the gold to that mis¬
erable seducer, Charles, who only wanted our money."
"I knew nothing about it," she answered, turning
to the other side of the bed, that she might escape
the savage glances of her husband. " I suffer so much
from your violence that I shall never leave this room,
if I trust my own presentiments, till I am carried out
of it in my coffin. You ought to have spared me this
suffering, monsieur, — you, to whom I have caused no
Eugenie Grandet.
223
pain; that is, I think so. Your daughter loves yon.
I believe her to be as innocent as the babe unborn.
Do not make her wretched. Revoke your sentence.
The cold is very severe; you may give her some seri¬
ous illness."
" I will not see her, neither will I speak to her.
She shall stay in her room, on bread and water, until
she submits to her father. What the devil! should n't
a father know where the gold in his house has gone to ?
She owned the only rupees in France, perhaps, and
the Dutch ducats and the genovines — "
"Monsieur, Eugenie is our only child; and even if
she had thrown them into the water — "
"Into the water!" cried her husband; "into the
water! You are crazy, Madame Grandet! What I
have said is said ; you know that well enough. If you
want peace in this household, make your daughter con¬
fess, pump it out of her. Women understand how
to do that better than we do. Whatever she has done,
I sha'n't eat her. Is she afraid of me? Even if she
has plastered Charles with gold from head to foot, he
is on the high seas, and nobody can get at him, hein ! "
'' But, monsieur — " Excited by the nervous crisis
through which she had passed, and by the fate of her
daughter, which brought forth all her tenderness and
all her powers of mind, Madame Grandet suddenty
observed a frightful movement of her husband's wen,
221 Eugenie Grandet.
and, in the very act of replying, she changed her
speech without changing the tones of her voice, —
"But, monsieur, I have not more influence over her
than you have. She has said nothing to me ; she takes
after you."
" Tut, tut! Your tongue is hung in the middle this
morning. Ta, ta, ta, ta! You are setting me at defiance,
I do believe. I daresay you are in league with her."
I-Ie looked fixedly at his wife.
"Monsieur Grandet, if you wish to kill me, you
have only to go on like this. I tell you, monsieur, —
and if it were to cost me my life, I would say it, —
you do wrong by your daughter; she is more in the
right than you are. That money belonged to her; she
is incapable of making any but a good use of it, and
God alone has the right to know our good deeds.
Monsieur, I implore you, take Eugenie back into favor;
forgive her. If you will do this you will lessen the
injury your anger has done me ; perhaps you will save
my life. My daughter! oh, monsieur, give me back
my daughter!"
" I shall decamp," he said ; " the house is not habi¬
table. A mother and daughter talking and arguing
like that! Broooouh! Pouah ! A fine New Year's
present you've made me, Eugenie," he called out.
"Yes, yes, cry away! What you've done will bring
you remorse, do you hear? What's the good of taking
Eugenie Crrandet.
225
the sacrament six times every three months, if you give
awa}7 your father's gold secretly to an idle fellow who '11
eat your heart out when you've nothing else to give him ?
You '11 find out some day what your Charles is worth,
with his morocco boots and supercilious airs. He has
got neither heart nor soul if he dared to carry off a young
girl's treasure without the consent of her parents."
When the street-door was shut, Eugenie came out
of her room and went to her mother.
"What courage you have had for your daughter's
sake ! " she said.
"Ah! my child, see where forbidden things may
lead us. You forced me to tell a lie."
" I will ask God to punish only me."
"Is it true," cried Nanon, rushing in alarmed, " that
mademoiselle is to be kept on bread and water for the
rest of her life ? "
"What does that signify, Nanon?" said Eugenie
tranquilly.
" Goodness ! do you suppose I '11 eat frippe when the
daughter of the house is eating dry bread? No, no ! "
"Don't say a word about all this, Nanon," said
Eugenie.
" I '11 be as mute as a fish; but you '11 see ! "
Grandet dined alone for the first time in twenty-four
years.
226 Eugenie Grandet.
" So you 're a widower, monsieur," said Nanon; "it
must be disagreeable to be a widower with two women
in the house."
"I did not speak to you. Hold your jaw, or I'll
turn you off! What is that I hear boiling in your
saucepan on the stove ? "
" It is grease I'm trying out."
" There will be some company to-night. Light the
fire."
The Cruchots, Madame des Grassins, and her son
arrived at the usual hour of eight, and were surprised
to see neither Madame Grandet nor her daughter.
" My wife is not very well, and Eugenie is with
her," said the old wine-grower, whose face betrayed no
emotion.
At the end of an hour spent in idle conversation,
Madame des Grassins, who had gone up to see Madame
Grandet, came down, and every one inquired, —
" How is Madame Grandet?"
"Not at all well," she answered; "her condition
seems to me really alarming. At her age you ought to
take every precaution, Papa Grandet."
"We'll see about it," said the old man in an absent
way.
They all wished him good-night. When the Cru¬
chots got into the street Madaiqe des Grassins said to
them, —
Eugenie Grrandet. 227
"There is something going on at the Grandets.
The mother is very ill without her knowing it. The
girl's eyes are red, as if she had been crying all day.
Can they be trying to marry her against her will? "
When Grandet had gone to bed Nanon came softly
to Eugenie's room in her stockinged feet and showed
her a pate baked in a saucepan.
" See, mademoiselle," said the good soul, " Cornoiller
gave me a hare. You eat so little that this pate will
last you full a week; in such frosty weather it won't
spoil. You sha'n't live on dry bread, I'm determined ;
it is n't wholesome."
" Poor Nanon ! " said Eugenie, pressing her hand.
"I've made it downright good and dainty, and he
never found it out. I bought the lard and the spices
out of my six francs: I'm the mistress of my own
money;" and she disappeared rapidly, fancying she
heard Grandet.
228
Eugenie Grandet.
XI.
For several months the old wine-grower came con¬
stantly to his wife's room at all hours of the day, with¬
out ever uttering his daughter's name, or seeing her,
or making the smallest allusion to her. Madame
Grandet did not leave her chamber, and daily grew
worse. Nothing softened the old man; he remained
unmoved, harsh, and cold as a granite rock. He con¬
tinued to go and come about his business as usual; but
he ceased to stutter, talked less, and was more obdu¬
rate in business transactions than ever before. Often
he made mistakes in adding up his figures.
" Something is going on at the Grandets'," said the
Grassinists and the Cruchotines.
'' What has happened in the Grandet family ?" be¬
came a fixed question which everybody asked eveiy-
body else at the little evening-parties of Saumur.
Eugenie went to Mass escorted by Nanon. If Madame
des Grassins said a few words to her on coming out of
church, she answered in an evasive manner, without
satisfying any curiosity. However, at the end of two
Eugenie Grandet.
229
months it became impossible to hide, either from the
three Cruchots or from Madame des Grassins, the fact
that Eugenie was in confinement. There came a mo¬
ment when all pretexts failed to explain her perpetual
absence. Then, though it was impossible to discover
by whom the secret had been betrayed, all the town
became aware that ever since New Year's day Made¬
moiselle Grandet had been kept in her room without
fire, on bread and water, by her father's orders, and
that Nanon cooked little dainties and took them to
her secretly at night. It was even known that the
young woman was not able to see or take care of her
mother, except at certain times when her father was
out of the house.
Grandet's conduct was severely condemned. The
whole town outlawed him, so to speak; the}' remem¬
bered his treachery, his liard-heartedness, and they ex¬
communicated him. When he passed along the streets,
people pointed him out and muttered at him. When his
daughter came down the winding street, accompanied
by Nanon, on her way to Mass or Vespers, the inhab¬
itants ran to the windows and examined with intense
curiosity the bearing of the rich heiress and her coun¬
tenance, which bore the impress of angelic gentleness
and melancholy. Her imprisonment and the condem¬
nation of her father were as nothing to her. Had she
not a map of the world, the little bench, the garden,
230 Eugenie Grandet.
the angle of the wall? Did she not taste upon her
lips the honey that love's kisses left there? She was
ignorant for a time that the town talked about her,
just as Grandet himself was ignorant of it. Pious and
pure in heart before God, her conscience and her love
helped her to suffer patiently the wrath and vengeance
of her father.
One deep grief silenced all others. Her mother,
that gentle, tender creature, made beautiful by the
light which shone from the inner to the outer as she
approached the tomb, —her mother was perishing from
day to clay. Eugenie often reproached herself as the
innocent cause of the slow, cruel malady that was
wasting her away. This remorse, though her mother
soothed it, bound her still closer to her love. Every
morning, as soon as her father left the house, she
went to the bedside of her mother, and there Nanon
brought her breakfast. The poor girl, sad, and suffer¬
ing through the sufferings of her mother, would turn her
face to the old servant with a mute gesture, weep¬
ing, and 3'et not daring to speak of her cousin. It
was Madame Grandet who first found courage to
say, —
" Where is he? Why does he not write?"
"Let us think about him, mother, but not speak of
him. You are ill — you, before all."
" All" meant " him."
Eugenie Grandet. 231
My child," said Madame Grandet, " I do not wish
to live. God protects me and enables me to look with
joy to the end of my misery."
Every utterance of this woman was unfalteringly
pious and Christian-. Sometimes, during the first
months of the year, when her husband came to break¬
fast with her and tramped up and down the room, she
would say to him a few religious words, always spoken
with angelic sweetness, yet with the firmness of a
woman to whom approaching death lends a courage
she had lacked in life.
'' Monsieur, I thank you for the interest }-ou take in
my health," she would answer when he made some
commonplace inquiry; '' but if you really desire to
render my last moments less bitter and to ease my
grief, take back }Tour daughter: be a Christian, a hus¬
band, and a father."
When he heard these words, Grandet would sit
down by the bed with the air of a man who sees the
rain coming and quietly gets under the shelter of a
gateway till it is over. When these touching, tender,
and religious supplications had all been made, he
would say, —■
" You are rather pale to-day, my poor wife."
Absolute forgetfulness of his daughter seemed graven
on his stony brow, on his closed lips. He was un¬
moved by the tears which flowed down the white
232 Eugenie Grandet.
cheeks of his unhappy wife as she listened to his mean¬
ingless answers.
" May God pardon yon," she said, " even as I par¬
don you! You will some day stand in need of
mercy."
Since Madame Grandet's illness he had not dared to
make use of his terrible " Ta, ta, ta, ta ! " Yet, for all
that, his despotic nature was not disarmed by this angel
of gentleness, whose ugliness clay by day decreased,
driven out by the ineffable expression of moral qualities
which shone upon her face. She was all soul. The spirit
of prayer seemed to purif}- and refine those homely fea¬
tures and make them luminous. Who has not seen the
phenomenon of a like transfiguration on sacred faces
where the habits of the soul have triumphed over the
plainest features, giving them that spiritual illumination
whose light comes from the purity and nobility of the
inward thought? The spectacle of this transformation
wrought by the struggle which consumed the last shreds
of the human life of this woman, did somewhat affect
the old cooper, though feebly, for his nature was of iron ;
if his language ceased to be contemptuous, an imper¬
turbable silence, which saved his dignity as master of
the household, took its place and ruled his conduct.
When the faithful Nanon appeared in the market,
man}' qnips and quirks and complaints about the master
whistled in her ears ; but however loudly public opinion
EugSnie Grrandet. 233
condemned Monsieur Grandet, the old servant defended
him, for the honor of the family.
"Well!" she would say to his detractors, "don't
we all get hard as we grow old ? Why should n't he
get horny too ? Stop telling lies. Mademoiselle lives
like a queen. She's alone, that's true ; but she likes it.
Besides, my masters have good reasons."
At last, towards the end of spring, Madame Gran-
det, worn out by grief even more than by illness,
having failed, in spite of her prayers, to reconcile the
father and daughter, confided her secret troubles to the
Cruchots.
" Keep a girl of twenty-three on bread and water!"
cried Monsieur de Bonfons ; "without any reason, too !
Why, that constitutes wrongful cruelty; she can pro¬
test, as much in as upon — "
"Come, nephew, spare us your legal jargon," said
the notary. "Set your mind at ease, madame; I
will put a stop to such treatment to-morrow."
Eugenie, hearing herself mentioned, came out of her
room.
"Gentlemen," she said, coming forward with a
proud step, "I beg you not to interfere in this matter.
My father is master in his own house. As long as I
live under his roof I am bound to obey him. His con¬
duct is not subject to the approbation or the disapproba¬
tion of the world; he is accountable to God only. I
2-34 Eugenie Grandet.
appeal to your friendship to keep total silence in this
affair. To blame my father is to attack our family
honor. I am much obliged to you for the interest 3-011
have shown in me ; 3Tou will do me an additional ser¬
vice if you will put a stop to the offensive rumors
which are current in the town, of which I am acci¬
dentally informed."
" She is right," said Madame Grandet.
" Mademoiselle, the best way to stop such rumors is
to procure 3'our liberty," answered the old notaiy
respectfully, struck with the beauty which seclusion,
melancholy and love had stamped upon her face.
"Well, my daughter, let Monsieur Cruchot manage
the matter if he is so sure of success. He understands
3rour father, and how to manage him. If you wish to
see me happy for ny few remaining days, you must, at
any cost, be reconciled to your father."
On the morrow Grandet, in pursuance of a custom
he had begun since Eugenie's imprisonment, took a
certain number of turns up and down the little garden ;
he had chosen the hour when Eugenie brushed and
arranged her hair. When the old man reached the
walnut-tree he hid behind its trunk and remained for
a few moments watching his daughter's movements,
hesitating, perhaps, between the course to which the
obstinacy of his character impelled him and his nat¬
ural desire to embrace his child. Sometimes he sat
Eugenie Grandet.
235
clown on the rotten old bench where Charles and Eu¬
genie had vowed eternal love; and then she, too, looked
at her father secretly in the mirror before which she
stood. If he rose and continued his walk, she sat
down obligingly at the window and looked at the angle
of the wall where the pale flowers hung, where the
Yenus-hair grew from the crevices with the bindweed
and the sedum, — a white or yellow stone-crop very
abundant in the vineyards of Saumur and at Tours.
Maitre Cruchot came early, and found the old wine¬
grower sitting in the fine June weather on the little
bench, his back against the division wall of the gar¬
den, engaged in watching his daughter.
"What may you want, Maitre Cruchot?" he said,
perceiving the notary.
"I came to speak to you on business."
" Ah! ah! have you brought some gold in exchange
for my silver?"
" No, no, I have not come about money; it is about
your daughter Eugenie. All the town is talking of
her and of you."
" What does the town meddle for? A man's house
is his castle."
"Very true ; and a man may kill himself if he likes,
or, what is worse, he may fling his money into the
gutter."
4 4 What do you mean ?"
236 Euginie Gfrandet.
" Why, your wife is very ill, my friend. You ought
to consult Monsieur Bergerin ; she is likely to die. If
she does die without receiving proper care, you will not
be very easy in mind, I take it."
"Ta, ta, ta, ta! you know a deal about my wife!
These doctors, if they once get their foot in your
house, will come five and six times a day."
" Of course you will do as you think best. We are
old friends; there is no one in all Saumur who takes
more interest than I in what concerns you. There¬
fore, I was bound to tell you this. However, happen
what may, you have the right to do as you please;
3rou can choose your own course. Besides, that is not
what brings me here. There is another thing which
may have serious results for you. After all, you can't
wish to kill your wife; her life is too important to
you. Think of your situation in connection with 3'our
daughter if Madame Grandet dies. You must render
an account to Eugenie, because 3*011 enjoy 3*our wife's
estate only during her lifetime. At her death 3*our
daughter can claim a division of property, and she
may force you to sell Froidfond. In short, she is her
mother's heir, and you are not."
These words fell like a thunderbolt on the old man,
who was not as wise about law as he was about busi¬
ness. He had never thought of a legal division of
the estate.
Eugenie Grandet. 237
" Therefore I advise you to treat her kindly," added
Cruchot, in conclusion.
" But do you know what she has done, Cruchot?"
"What?" asked the notary, curious to hear the
truth and find out the cause of the quarrel.
" She has given away her gold !"
" Well, was n't it hers? " said the notary.
" They all tell me that! " exclaimed the old man, let¬
ting his arms fall to his sides with a movement that was
truly tragic.
"Are you going — for a mere nothing," — resumed
Cruchot, " to put obstacles in the way of the conces¬
sions which you will be obliged to ask from your daugh¬
ter as soon "as her mother dies ? "
" Do you call six thousand francs a mere noth¬
ing ? "
" Hey! my old friend, do 3*011 know what the inven-
tory of 3*0ur wife's property will cost, if Eugenie de¬
mands the division?"
" How much? "
" Two, three, four thousand francs, perhaps! The
property would have to be put up at auction and sold,
to get at its actual value. Instead of that, if 3Tou are
on good terms with — "
'' By the shears of my father! " cried Grandet, turn¬
ing pale as he suddenly sat down, " we will see about
it, Cruchot."
16
288 EugSnie Grandet.
After a moment's silence, full of anguish peihaps,
the old man looked at the notary and said,
" Life is very hard ! It has many griefs ! Cruckot,
he continued solemnly, " you would not deceive me?
Swear to me upon your honor that all you've told me
is legally true. Show me the law; I must see the
law!"
'' My poor friend," said the notary, '' don't I know
my own business ? "
"Then it is true! I am robbed, betrayed, killed,
destroyed by my own daughter! "
" It is true that your daughter is her mother's
heir."
" Why do we have children? Ah! my wife, I love
her! Luckily she's sound and healthy; she's a Ber-
telliere."
" She has not a month to live."
Grandet struck his forehead, went a few steps, came
back, cast a dreadful look on Cruckot, and said, —
'' What can be done ? "
"Eugenie can relinquish her claim to her mother's
property. Should she do this you would not disinherit
her, I presume ? — but if you want to come to such a
settlement, you must not treat her harshly. What I
am telling you, old man, is against my own interests.
What do I live by, if it is n't liquidations, inventories,
conveyances, divisions of property? — "
EugSnie Qrandet.
239
"We'll see, we'll see! Don't let's talk anymore
about it, Cruchot; it wrings my vitals. Have you
received any gold ? "
"No; but I have a few old louis, a dozen or so,
which you may have. My good friend, make it up
with Eugenie. Don't you know all Saumur is pelting
you with stones ? "
" The scoundrels ! "
" Come, the Funds are at ninety-nine. Do be satis¬
fied for once in your life."
" At ninety-nine ! Are they, Cruchot? "
" Yes."
" Hey, hey! Ninety-nine!" repeated the old man,
accompanying the notary to the street-door. Then,
too agitated by what he had just heard to stay in the
house, he went up to his wife's room and said, —
"Come, mother, you may have your daughter to
spend the day with you. I'm going to Froidfond.
Enjoy yourselves, both of you. This is our wedding-
da \T, wife. See ! here are sixty francs for your altar at
the Fete-Dieu; you've wanted one for a long time.
Come, cheer up, enjoy yourself, and get well! Hur¬
rah for happiness!"
He threw ten silver pieces of six francs each upon
the bed, and took his wife's head between his hands
and kissed her forehead.
" My good wife, you are getting well, are not you?"
240 Eugenie Crrandet.
'' How can you think of receiving the God of mercy
in your house when you refuse to forgive your daugh¬
ter?" she said with emotion.
" Ta, ta, ta, ta! " said Grandet in a coaxing voice.
" We '11 see about that."
"Merciful heaven! Eugenie," cried the mother,
flushing with joy, " come and kiss your father; he for¬
gives you!"
But the old man had disappeared. He was going as
fast as his legs could carry him towards his vineyards,
trying to get his confused ideas into order. Grandet
had entered his seventy-sixth year. During the last
two years his avarice had increased upon him, as all the
persistent passions of men increase at a certain age.
As if to illustrate an observation which applies equally
to misers, ambitious men, and others whose lives are
controlled by any dominant idea, his affections had
fastened upon one special symbol of his passion. The
sight of gold, the possession of gold, had become a
monomania. His despotic spirit had grown in propor¬
tion to his avarice, and to part with the control of
the smallest fraction of his property at the death of
his wife seemed to him a thing "against nature." To
declare his fortune to his daughter, to give an inven¬
tory of his property, landed and personal, for the pur¬
poses of division —
" WhjV' he cried aloud in the midst of a field where
Eugenie Grandet.
241
he was pretending to examine a vine,."it would be
cutting my throat! "
He came at last to a decision, and returned to Sau-
mur in time for dinner, resolved to unbend to Eugenie,
and pet and coax her, that he might die regally, hold¬
ing the reins of his millions in his own hands so
long as the breath was in his body. At the moment
when the old man, who chanced to have his pass-key
in his pocket, opened the door and climbed with a
stealthy step up the stairway to go into his wife's room,
Eugenie had brought the beautiful dressing-case from
the oak cabinet and placed it on her mother's bed.
Mother and daughter, in Grandet's absence, allowed
themselves the pleasure of looking for a likeness to
Charles in the portrait of his mother.
" It is exactly his forehead and his mouth," Eugenie
was saying as the old man opened the door. At the
look which her husband cast upon the gold, Madame
Grandet cried out, —
" O God, have pity upon us !"
The old man sprang upon the box as a famished tiger
might spring upon a sleeping child.
" What's this? " he said, snatching the treasure and
carrying it to the window. "Gold, good gold!" he
cried. " All gold, —it weighs two pounds ! Ha, ha!
Charles gave you that for your money, did he ? Hein !
Why did n't 3*0u tell me so? It was a good bargain,
242 Eugenie G-randet.
little one ! Yes, you are my daughter, I see that — "
Eugenie trembled in every limb. " This came from
Charles, of course, did n't it?" continued the old man.
"Yes, father; it is not mine. It is a sacred trust."
" Ta, ta, ta, ta! He took your fortune, and now
you can get it back."
'' Father! "
Grandet took his knife to pry out some of the gold;
to do this, he placed the dressing-case on a chair. Eu¬
genie sprang forward to recover it; but her father, who
had his eye on her and on the treasure too, pushed her
back so violently with a thrust of his arm that she
fell upon her mother's bed.
'' Monsieur, monsieur! " cried the mother, lifting
herself up.
Grandet had opened his knife, and was about to
apply it to the gold.
"Father!" cried Eugenie, falling on her knees and
dragging herself close to him with clasped hands,
'' father, in the name of all the saints and the Virgin !
in the name of Christ who died upon the cross ! in the
name of your eternal salvation, father! for my life's
sake, father! — do not touch that! It is neither yours
nor mine. It is a trust placed in my hands by an un¬
happy relation : I must give it back to him uninjured !"
" If it is a trust, why were you looking at it ? To
look at it is as bad as touching it."
EugSnie Grandet.
243
"Father, don't destroy it, or you will disgrace me!
Father, do you hear ? "
" Oh, have pity! " said the mother.
"Father!" cried Eugenie in so startling a voice
that Nanon ran upstairs terrified. Eugenie sprang
upon a knife that was close at hand.
"Well, what now?" said Grandet coldly, with a
callous smile.
" Oh, you are killing me!" said the mother.
" Father, if your knife so much as cuts a fragment of
that gold, I will stab myself with this one ! You have
already driven my mother to her death; you will now
kill your child! Do as you choose! "Wound for
wound!"
Grandet held his knife over the dressing-case and
hesitated as he looked at his daughter.
" Are you capable of doing it, Eugenie? " he said.
"Yes, yes ! " said the mother.
" She '11 do it if she says so !" cried Nanon. " Be
reasonable, monsieur, for once in your life."
The old man looked at the gold and then at his
daughter alternately for an instant. Madame Grandet
fainted.
"There! don't you see, monsieur, that madame is
dying?" cried Nanon.
" Come, come, my daughter, we won't quarrel for a
box! Here, take it! " he cried hastily, flinging the case
2-14 Eugenie Grandet.
upon the bed. " Nanon, go and fetch Monsieur Ber-
gerin! Come, mother," said he, kissing his wife's
hand, 4' it's all over! There! we 've made up—have n't
we, little one? No more dry bread; you shall have all
you want— Ah, she opens her eyes! Well, mother,
little mother, come ! See, I'm kissing Eugenie ! She
loves her cousin, and she may many him if she wants
to ; she may keep his case. But don't die, mother; live
a long time yet, ny poor wife ! Come, try to move!
Listen! you shall have the finest altar that ever was
made in Saumur."
" Oh, how can you treat your wife and daughter so!"
said Madame Grandet in a feeble voice.
" I won't do so again, never again," cried her hus¬
band ; " you shall see, my poor wife ! " He went to his
inner room and returned with a handful of louis, which
he scattered on the bed. "Here, Eugenie ! see, wife !
all these are for you," he said, fingering the coins.
"Come, be happy, wife! feel better, get well; 3011
sha'n't want for anything, nor Eugenie either. Here 's
a hundred louis d'or for her. You won't give these
away, will you, Eugenie, hein?"
Madame Grandet and her daughter looked at each
other in astonishment.
" Take back your money, father; we ask for noth¬
ing but your affection."
"Well, well, that's right!" he said, pocketing the
Eugenie Grandet.
245
coins ; "let's be good friends ! We will all go down to
dinner to-day, and we '11 play loto every evening for
two sous. You shall both be happy. Hey, wife?"
" Alas! I wish I could, if it would give 3*011 pleas¬
ure," said the dying woman; " but I cannot rise from
my bed."
"Poor mother," said Grandet, "3*ou don't know
how I love you! and you too, my daughter !" He took
her in his arms and kissed her. " Oh, how good it is
to kiss a daughter when we have been angry with her !
There, mother, don't you see it's all over now? Go
and put that away, Eugenie," he added, pointing to the
case. " Go, don't be afraid ! I shall never speak of it
again, never!"
Monsieur Bergerin, the celebrated doctor of Saumur,
presently* arrived. After an examination, he told
Grandet positivety that his wife was very ill; but that
perfect peace of mind, a generous diet, and great care
might prolong her life until the autumn.
"Will all that cost much?" said the old man.
" Will she need medicines?"
" Not much medicine, but a great deal of care," an¬
swered the doctor, who could scarcely restrain a smile.
" Now, Monsieur Bergerin," said Grandet, " 3*011 are
a man of honor, are not you? I trust to 3*011! Come
and see ny wife how and when you think necessaiy.
Save m3r good wife ! I love her, — don't you see ? —
246
Eugenie Grrandet.
though I never talk about it; I keep things to myself.
I'm full of trouble. Troubles began when my brother
died; I have to spend enormous sums on his affairs in
Paris. Why, I'm paying through my nose ; there's no
end to it. Adieu, monsieur! If you can save my wife,
save her. I '11 spare no expense, not even if it costs me
a hundred or two hundred francs."
In spite of Grandet's fervent wishes for the health of
his wife, whose death threatened more than death to
him ; in spite of the consideration he now showed on all
occasions for the least wish of his astonished wife and
daughter; in spite of the tender care which Eugenie lav¬
ished upon her mother, — Madame Grandet rapidly
approached her end. Every da}' she grew weaker and
wasted visibly, as women of her age when attacked
by serious illness are wont to do. She was fragile as
the foliage in autumn; the radiance of heaven shone
through her as the sun strikes athwart the withering
leaves and gilds them. It was a death worthy of her
life, — a Christian death ; and is not that sublime? In
the month of October, 1822, her virtues, her angelic
patience, her love for her daughter, seemed to find spe¬
cial expression; and then she passed away without a
murmur. Lamb without spot, she went to heaven, re¬
gretting only the sweet companion of her cold and
dreary life, for whom her last glance seemed to proph¬
esy a destiny of sorrows. She shrank from leaving her
Eugenie Girandet. 247
ewe-lamb, white as herself, alone in the midst of a
selfish world that sought to strip her of her fleece and
grasp her treasures.
" My child," she said as she expired, " there is no
happiness except in heaven; you will know it some
day."
248
Eugenie Cfrandet.
XII.
On the morrow of this death Eugenie felt a new mo¬
tive for attachment to the house in which she was born,
where she had suffered so much, where her mother had
just died. She could not see the window and the chair
on its castors without weeping. She thought she had
mistaken the heart of her old father when she found
herself the object of his tenderest cares. He came in
the morning and, gave her his arm to take her to
breakfast; he looked at her for hours together with an
eye that was almost kind; he brooded over her as
though she had been gold. The old man was so unlike
himself, he trembled so often before his daughter, that
Nanon and the Cruchotines, who witnessed his weak¬
ness, attributed it to his great age, and feared that his
faculties were giving awa}'. But the day on which the
family put on their mourning, and after dinner, to which
meal Maitre Cruchot (the only person who knew his
secret) had been invited, the conduct of the old miser
was explained.
"My dear child," he said to Eugenie when the
table had been cleared and the doors carefully shut,
EugSnie Crrandet. 249
"you are now your mother's heiress, and we have a
few little matters to settle between us. Isn't that so,
Cruchot ?"
"Yes."
" Is it necessary to talk of them to-day, father? "
"Yes, yes, little one; I can't bear the uncertainty
in which I'm placed. I think you don't want to give
me pain ? "
"Oh! father—"
"Well, then ! let us settle it all to-night."
" What is it you wish me to do? "
" My little ginl, it is not for me to say. Tell her,
Cruchot."
" Mademoiselle, your father does not wish to divide
the property, nor sell the estate, nor pay enormous
taxes on the ready money which he may possess.
Therefore, to avoid all this, he must be released from
making the inventory of his whole fortune, part of which
you inherit from your mother, and which is now undi¬
vided between 3*011 and your father —"
" Cruchot, are 3*ou quite sure of what 3*011 are saying
before you tell it to a mere child ? "
. '' Let me tell it my own way*, Grandet."
"Yes, 3*es, my friend. Neither 3*ou nor my daughter
wish to rob me, — do 3Tou, little one?"
"But, Monsieur Cruchot, what am I to do?" said
Eugenie impatiently*.
250 Eugenie Cfrandet.
"Well," said the notary, " it is necessary to sign this
deed, by which you renounce your rights to your moth¬
er's estate and leave your father the use and disposition,
during his lifetime, of all the property undivided between
yon, of which he guarantees you the capital."
"I do not understand a word of what you are say¬
ing," returned Eugenie ; " give me the deed, and show
me where I am to sign it."
Pere Grandet looked alternately at the deed and at
his daughter, at his daughter and at the deed, under¬
going as he did so such violent emotion that he wiped
the sweat from his brow.
" My little girl," he said, "if, instead of signing this
deed, which will cost a great deal to record, you
would simply agree to renounce your rights as heir
to your poor dear, deceased mother's property, and
would trust to me for the future, I should like it better.
In that case I will pay you monthly the good round
sum of a hundred francs. See, now, 3Tou could pay for
as many masses as you want for anybody — Hein! a
hundred francs a month — in livres ? "
" I will do all 3rou wish, father."
"Mademoiselle," said the notaiy, "it is ny duty to
point out to you that 3*011 are despoiling 3rourself with¬
out guarantee — "
'' Good heavens ! what is all that to me ? "
'' Hold your tongue, Cruchot! It's settled, all settled,"
Eugenie Girandet. 251
cried Grandet, taking his daughter's hand and striking
it with his own. " Eugenie, you won't go back on your
word ? — you are an honest girl, liein ? "
"Oh! father! — "
He kissed her effusively, and pressed her in his arms
till he almost choked her.
" Go, my good child, you restore your father's life ;
but you only return to him that which he gave you: we
are quits. This is how business should be done. Life
is a business. I bless you! }tou are a virtuous girl, and
you love your father. Do just what you like in future.
To-morrow, Cruchot," he added, looking at the horrified
notary, "you will see about preparing the deed of
relinquishment, and then enter it on the records of
the court."
The next morning Eugenie signed the papers by
which she herself completed her spoliation. At the end
of the first year, however, in spite of his bargain, the
old man had not given his daughter one sou of the hun¬
dred francs he had so solemnly pledged to her. When
Eugenie pleasantly reminded him of this, he could not
help coloring, and went hastily to his secret hiding-
place, from whence he brought down about a third of
the jewels he had taken from his nephew, and gave them
to her.
" There, little one," he said in a sarcastic tone, " do
you want those for your twelve hundred francs ?"
252 Eugenie Grandet.
'' Oh! father, truly ? will you really give them to
me? "
"I'll give 3*011 as many more next 3*ear," he said,
throwing them into her apron. " So before long 3*ou '11
get all his gewgaws," he added, rubbing his hands,
delighted to be able to speculate on his daughter's
feelings.
Nevertheless, the old man, though still robust, felt
the importance of initiating his daughter into the secrets
of his thrift and its management. For two consecutive
3*ears he made her order the household meals in his
presence and receive the rents, and he taught her slowly
and successively the names and remunerative capacity
of his vinej-ards and his farms. About the third }*ear
he had so thoroughly accustomed her to his avaricious
methods that they had turned into the settled habits
of her own life, and he was able to leave the household
keys in her charge without anxiet\*, and to install her
as mistress of the house.
Five 3*ears passed away without a single event to
relieve the monotonous existence of Eugenie and her
father. The same actions were performed daily with
the automatic regularity of clockwork. The deep sad¬
ness of Mademoiselle Grandet was known to every
one ; but if others surmised the cause, she herself never
uttered a word that justified the suspicions which all
Eugenie Grandet.
253
Sauinur entertained about the state of the rich heiress's
heart. Her only society was made up of the three
Cruchots and a few of their particular friends whom
they had, little by little, introduced into the Grandet
household. They had taught her to play whist, and
they came every night for their game. During the year
1827 her father, feeling the weight of his infirmities,
was obliged to initiate her still further into the secrets
of his landed property, and told her that in case of
difficulty she was to have recourse to Maitre Cruchot,
whose integrity was well known to him.
Towards the end of this year the old man, then
eighty-two, was seized by paralysis, which made rapid
progress. Dr. Bergerin gave him up. Eugenie, feel¬
ing that she was about to be left alone in the world,
came, as it were, nearer to her father, and clasped more
tightly this last living link of affection. To her mind,
as in that of all loving women, love was the whole of
life. Charles was not there, and she devoted all her
care and attention to the old father, whose faculties had
begun to weaken, though his avarice remained instinc¬
tively acute. The death of this man offered no contrast
to his life. In the morning he made them roll him to
a spot between the chimney of his chamber and the
door of the secret room, which was filled, no doubt,
with gold. lie asked for an explanation of eveiy noise
he heard, even the slightest; to the great astonishment
17
254
Eugenie Qrandet.
of the notary, he even heard the watch-dog 3'awning in
the court-yard. He woke up from his apparent stupor
at the day and hour when the rents were due, or when
accounts had to be settled with his vine-dressers, and
receipts given. At such times he worked his chair
forward on its castors until he faced the door of the
inner room. He made his daughter open it, and
watched while she placed the bags of money one upon
another in his secret receptacles and relocked the
door. Then she returned silently to her seat, after giv¬
ing him the key, which he replaced in his waistcoat
pocket and fingered from time to time. His old friend
the notary, feeling sure that the rich heiress would
inevitably marry his nephew the president, if Charles
Grandet did not return, redoubled all his attentions;
he came every day to take Grandet's orders, went on
his errands to Froidfond, to the farms and the fields
and the vineyards, sold the vintages, and turned every¬
thing into gold and silver, which found their way in
sacks to the secret hiding-place.
At length the last struggle came, in which the strong
frame of the old man slowly jiclded to destruction.
He was determined to sit at the chimney-corner facing
the door of the secret room. He drew off and rolled up
all the coverings which were laid over him, saying to
Nanon, "Put them away, lock them up, for fear they
should be stolen."
Eugenie Grandet.
255
So long as he could open his eyes, in which his whole
being had now taken refuge, he turned them to the door
behind which lay his treasures, saying to his daughter,
'' Are they there ? are they there ? " in a tone of voice
which revealed a sort of panic fear.
" Yes, my father," she would answer.
" Take care of the gold — put gold before me."
Eugenie would then spread coins on a table before
him, and he would sit for hours together with his e3Tes
fixed upon them, like a child who, at the moment
it first begins to see, gazes in stupid contemplation at
the same object, and like the child, a distressful smile
would flicker upon his face.
'' It warms me!" he would sometimes say, as an
expression of beatitude stole across his features.
When the cure of the parish came to administer the
last sacraments, the old man's eyes, sightless, appa-
rentty, for some hours, kindled at the sight of the cross,
the candlesticks, and the holy-water vessel of silver;
he gazed at them fixedly, and his wen moved for the
last time. When the priest put the crucifix of silver-gilt
to his lips, that he might kiss the Christ, he made a
frightful gesture, as if to seize it; and that last effort
cost him his life. He called Eugenie, whom he did not
see, though she was kneeling beside him bathing with
tears his stiffening hand, which was already cold.
" My father, bless me ! " she entreated.
256
Eugenie Grandet.
" Take care of it all. You will render me an account
yonder!" lie said, proving by these last words that
Christianity must always be the religion of misers.
Eugenie Grandet was now alone in the world in that
gray house, with none but Nanon to whom she could
turn with the certainty of being heard and understood,
— Nanon the sole being who loved her for herself and
with whom she could speak of her sorrows. La Grande
Nanon was a providence for Eugenie. She was not a
servant, but a humble friend. After her father's death
Eugenie learned from Maitre Cruchot that she possessed
an income of three hundred thousand francs from landed
and personal property in the arrondissement of Saumur;
also six millions invested at three per cent in the
Funds (bought at sixty, and now worth seventy-six
francs) ; also two millions in gold coin, and a hundred
thousand francs in silver crown-pieces, besides all the
interest which was still to be collected. The sum total
of her property reached seventeen millions.
'' Where is my cousin ?" was her one thought.
The day on which Maitre Cruchot handed in to his
client a clear and exact schedule of the whole inheritance,
Eugenie remained alone with Nanon, sitting beside the
fireplace in the vacant hall, where all was now a mem¬
ory, from the chair on castors which her mother had sat
in, to the glass from which her cousin drank.
Eugenie Grrandet»
257
" Nanon, we are alone — "
" Yes, mademoiselle; and if I knew where he was,
the darling, I'd go on foot to find him."
" The ocean is between us," she said.
While the poor heiress wept in company of an old
servant, in that cold, dark house, which was to her
the universe, the whole province rang, from Nantes to
Orleans, with the seventeen millions of Mademoiselle
Grandet. Among her first acts she had settled an
annuity of twelve hundred francs on Nanon, who,
already possessed of six hundred more, became a rich
and enviable match. In less than a month that good
soul passed from single to wedded life under the protec¬
tion of Antoine Cornoiller, who was appointed keeper
of all Mademoiselle Grandet's estates. Madame Cor¬
noiller possessed one striking advantage over her con¬
temporaries. Although she was fifty-nine years of age,
she did not look more than forty. Her strong features
had resisted the ravages of time. Thanks to the healthy
customs of her semi-conventual life, she laughed at old
age from the vantage-ground of a rosy skin and an iron
constitution. Perhaps she never looked as well in lier
life as she did on her marriage-day. She had all the
benefits of her ugliness, and was big and fat and strong,
with a look of happiness on her indestructible features
which made a good many people envy Cornoiller.
" Fast colors ! " said the draper.
258 EugSnie Grandet.
"Quite likely to have children," said the salt mer¬
chant. " She's pickled in brine, saying your pres¬
ence."
" She is rich, and that fellow Cornoiller has done a
good thing for himself," said a third man.
When she came forth from the old house on her way
to the parish church, Nanon, who was loved by all
the neighborhood, received many compliments as she
walked down the tortuous street. Eugenie had given
her three dozen silver forks and spoons as a wedding-
present. Cornoiller, amazed at such magnificence,
spoke of his mistress with tears in his eyes ; he would
willingly have been hacked in pieces in her behalf.
Madame Cornoiller, appointed housekeeper to Made¬
moiselle Grandet, got as much happiness out of her new
position as she did from the possession of a husband.
She took charge of the weekly accounts; she locked
up the provisions and gave them out daily, after the
manner of her defunct master; she ruled over two
servants, — a cook, and a maid whose business it was
to mend the house-linen and make mademoiselle's
dresses. Cornoiller combined the functions of keeper
and bailiff. It is unnecessary to say that the women-
servants selected by Nanon were "perfect treasures."
Mademoiselle Grandet thus had four servants, whose
devotion was unbounded. The farmers perceived no
change after Monsieur Grandet's death ; the usages and
Eugenie Grandet.
259
customs he had sternly established were scrupulously
carried out by Monsieur and Madame Cornoiller.
At thirty years of age Eugenie knew none of the
joys of life. Her pale, sad childhood had glided on be¬
side a mother whose heart, always misunderstood and
wounded, had known only suffering. Leaving this life
joyfully, the mother pitied the daughter because she
still must live; and she left in her child's soul some
fugitive remorse and many lasting regrets. Eugenie's
first and only love was a wellspring of sadness within
her. Meeting her lover for a few brief days, she had
given him her heart between two kisses furtively ex¬
changed ; then he had left her, and a whole world lay
between them. This love, cursed by her father, had
cost the life of her mother and brought her only sor¬
row, mingled with a few frail hopes. Thus her upward
spring towards happiness had wasted her strength and
given her nothing in exchange for it. In the life of
the soul, as in the physical life, there is an inspiration
and a respiration; the soul needs to absorb the senti¬
ments of another soul and assimilate them, that it may
render them back enriched. Were it not for this glori¬
ous human phenomenon, there would be no life for the
heart; air would be wanting ; it would suffer, and then
perish. Eugenie had begun to suffer. For her, wealth
was neither a power nor a consolation; she could not
live except through love, through religion, through
260
Ev genie Grranclet.
faith in the future. Love explained to her the myste¬
ries of eternity. Her heart and the Gospel taught her
to know two worlds ; she bathed, night and day, in the
depths of two infinite thoughts, which for her may have
had but one meaning. She drew back within herself,
loving, and believing herself beloved. For seven years
her passion had invaded everything. Her treasures
were not the millions whose revenues were rolling up ;
they were Charles's dressing-case, the portraits hanging
above her bed, the jewels recovered from her father
and proudly spread upon a bed of wool in a drawer of
the oaken cabinet, the thimble of her aunt, used for
a while by her mother, which she wore religiously as
she worked at a piece of embroideiy, — a Penelope's
web, begun for the sole purpose of putting upon her
finger that gold so rich in memories.
It seemed unlikely that Mademoiselle Grandet would
marry during the period of her mourning. Her genu
ine piety was well known. Consequent^ the Cru-
chots, whose policy was sagely guided by the old abbe,
contented themselves for the time being with surround¬
ing the great heiress and paying her the most affec¬
tionate attentions. Every evening the hall was filled
with a party of devoted Cruchotines, who sang the
praises of its mistress in every kej7. She had her doc¬
tor in ordinary, her grand almoner, her chamberlain,
her first lady of honor, her prime minister; above all,
Eugenie Grrandet.
261
her chancellor, a chancellor who would fain have said
much to her. If the heiress had wished for a train-
hearer, one would instantly have been found. She was
a queen, obsequiously flattered. Flattery never ema¬
nates from noble souls ; it is the gift of little minds, who
thus still further belittle themselves to worm their way
into the vital being of the persons around whom they
crawl. Flattery means self-interest. So the people
who, night after night, assembled in Mademoiselle
Grandet's house (they called her Mademoiselle de Fro id-
fond) outdid each other in expressions of admiration.
This concert of praise, never before bestowed upon
Eugenie, made her blush under its novelty ; but insen¬
sibly her ear became habituated to the sound, and how¬
ever coarse the compliments might be, she soon was
so accustomed to hear her beauty lauded that if any
new-comer had seemed to think her plain, she would
have felt the reproach far more than she might have
done eight years earlier. She ended at last by loving
the incense, which she secretly laid at the feet of her
idol. By degrees she grew accustomed to be treated
as a sovereign and to see her court pressing around
her every evening.
Monsieur de Bonfons was the hero of the little circle,
where his wit, his person, his education, his amia-
bilit}', were perpetually praised. One or another would
remark that in seven years he had largely increased
262 Eugenie Cfrandet.
liis fortune, that Bonfons brought in at least ten thou¬
sand francs a year, and was surrounded, like the other
possessions of the Cruchots, by the vast domains of
the heiress.
"Do you know, mademoiselle," said an habitual
visitor, '' that the Cruchots have an income of forty
thousand francs among them?"
"And then, their savings!" exclaimed an elderly
female Cruchotine, Mademoiselle de Gribeaucourt.
"A gentleman from Paris has lately offered Mon¬
sieur Cruchot two hundred thousand francs for his
practice," said another. " He will sell it if he is
appointed juge de paix."
'' He wants to succeed Monsieur de Bonfons as pres¬
ident of the Civil courts, and is taking measures,"
replied Madame d'Orsonval. "Monsieur le president
will certainly be made councillor."
"Yes, he is a very distinguished man," said an¬
other,— " don't you think so, mademoiselle?"
Monsieur de Bonfons endeavored to put himself in
keeping with the role he sought to play. In spite of
his forty years, in spite of his dusky and crabbed fea¬
tures, withered like most judicial faces, he dressed in
youthful fashions, toyed with a bamboo cane, never
took snuff in Mademoiselle de Froidfond's house, and
came in a white cravat and a shirt whose pleated frill
gave him a family resemblance to the race of turkeys.
EugSnie Grandet.
263
He addressed the beautiful heiress familiarly, and
spoke of her as "Our dear Eugenie." In short, ex¬
cept for the number of visitors, the change from loto
to whist, and the disappearance of Monsieur and Ma¬
dame Grandet, the scene was about the same as the one
with which this history opened. The pack were still
pursuing Eugenie and her millions; but the hounds,
more in number, lay better 011 the scent, and beset the
prey more unitedly. If Charles could have dropped
from the Indian Isles, he would have found the same
people and the same interests. Madame des Grassins,
to whom Eugenie was full of kindness and courtes}',
still persisted in tormenting the Cruchots. Eugenie,
as in former daj'S, was the central figure of the pic¬
ture ; and Charles, as heretofore, would still have
been the sovereign of all. Yet there had been some
progress. The flowers which the president formerly
presented to Eugenie on her birthdays and fete-days
had now become a daily institution. Every evening he
brought the rich heiress a huge and magnificent bou¬
quet, which Madame Cornoiller placed conspicuously in
a vase, and secretly threw into a corner of the court¬
yard when the visitors had departed.
Early in the spring, Madame des Grassins attempted
to trouble the peace of the Cruchotines l>}r talking to
Eugenie of the Marquis de Froidfond, whose ancient
and ruined family might be restored if the heiress would
264 Eugenie Grandet.
give him hack his estates through marriage. Madame
des Grassins rang the changes on the peerage and the
title of marquise, until, mistaking Eugenie's disdainful
smile for acquiescence, she went about proclaiming that
the marriage with u Monsieur Cruchot" was not nearly
as certain as people thought.
" Though Monsieur de Froidfond is fifty," she said,
" he does not look older than Monsieur Cruchot. He
is a widower, and he has children, that's true. But
then he is a marquis; he will be peer of France ; and
in times like these where will you find a better match?
I know it for a fact that Pere Grandet, when he put all
his money into Froidfond, intended to graft himself
upon that stock ; he often told me so. He was a deep
one, that old man !"
"Ah! Nanon," said Eugenie, one night as she was
going to bed, "how is it that in seven years he has
never once written to me?"
Eugenie Grandet.
265
XIII.
While these events were happening at Saumur,
Charles was making his fortune in the Indies. His
commercial outfit had sold well. He began by realizing
a sum of six thousand dollars. Crossing the line had
brushed a good many cobwebs out of his brain; he
perceived that the best means of attaining fortune in
tropical regions, as well as in Europe, was to buy and
sell men. He went to the coast of Africa and bought
negroes, combining his traffic in human flesh with that
of other merchandise equally advantageous to his in¬
terests. He carried into this business an activity
which left him not a moment of leisure. He was gov¬
erned by the desire of reappearing in Paris with all the
prestige of a large fortune, and by the hope of regain¬
ing a position even more brilliant than the one from
which he had fallen.
By dint of jostling with men, travelling through many
lands, and studying a variety of conflicting customs,
his ideas had been modified and had become sceptical.
He ceased to have fixed principles of right and wrong,
for lie saw what was called a crime in one country
26G Eugenie Grandet.
lauded as a virtue in another. In the perpetual strug¬
gle of selfish interests his heart grew cold, then con¬
tracted, and then dried up. The blood of the Grandets
did not fail of its destiny; Charles became hard, and
eager for prey. He sold Chinamen, negroes, birds'
nests, children, artists; he practised usury on a large
scale; the habit of defrauding custom-houses soon
made him less scrupulous about the rights of his fellow-
men. He went to the Island of St. Thomas and
bought, for a mere song, merchandise that had been
captured by pirates, and took it to ports where he
could sell it at a good price. If the pure and noble
face of Eugenie went with him on his first voyage, like
that image of the Virgin which Spanish mariners fas¬
ten to their masts, if he attributed his first success to
the magic influence of the prayers and intercessions of
his gentle love, later on women of other kinds,—blacks,
mulattoes, whites, and Indian dancing-girls, — orgies
and adventures in many lands, completely effaced all
recollection of his cousin, of Saumur, of the house,
the bench, the kiss snatched in the dark passage. He
remembered only the little garden shut in with crumb¬
ling walls, for it was there he learned the fate that
had overtaken him ; but he rejected all connection with
the family. His uncle was an old dog who had filched
his jewels; Eugenie had no place in his heart nor in
his thoughts, though she did have a place in his
EugSnie Grandet.
26T
accounts as a creditor for the sum of six thousand
francs.
Such conduct and such ideas explain Charles Gran-
det's silence. In the Indies, at St. Thomas, on the
coast of Africa, at Lisbon, and in the United States
the adventurer had taken the pseudonym of Shepherd,
that he might not compromise his own name. Charles
Shepherd could safely be indefatigable, bold, grasping,
and greedy of gain, like a man who resolves to snatch
his fortune quibus cumque viis, and makes haste to
have done with villany, that he may spend the rest of
his life as an honest man.
With such methods, prosperity was rapid and bril¬
liant ; and in 1827 Charles Grandet returned to Bor¬
deaux on the " Marie Caroline," a fine brig belonging
to a royalist house of business. He brought with him
nineteen hundred thousand francs worth of gold-dust,
from which he expected to derive seven or eight per
cent more at the Paris mint. On the brig he met
a gentleman-in-ordinary to His Majesty Charles X.,
Monsieur d'Aubrion, a worthy old man who had com¬
mitted the folly of marrying a woman of fashion with
a fortune derived from the West India Islands. To
meet the costs of Madame d'Aubrion's extravagance,
he had gone out to the Indies to sell the property, and
was now returning with his family to France.
Monsieur and Madame d'Aubrion, of the house of
268 Eugenie Grandet.
d'Aubrion de Buch, a family of southern France, whose
last captal, or chief, died before 1789, were now re¬
duced to an income of about twenty thousand francs,
and they possessed an ugly daughter whom the mother
was resolved to marry without a dot, — the family for¬
tune being scarcely sufficient for the demands of her
own life in Paris. This was an enterprise whose suc¬
cess might have seemed problematical to most men of
the world, in spite of the cleverness with which such
men credit a fashionable woman; in fact, Madame
d'Aubrion herself, when she looked at her daughter,
almost despaired of getting rid of her to any one, even
to a man craving connection with nobility. Mademoi¬
selle d'Aubrion was a long, spare, spindling demoiselle,
like her namesake the insect; her mouth was disdainful;
over it hung a nose that was too long, thick at the end,
sallow in its normal condition, but very red after a
meal, — a sort of vegetable phenomenon which is par¬
ticularly disagreeable when it appears in the middle of
a pale, dull, and uninteresting face In one sense she
was all that a worldly mother, thirt}--eight years of age
and still a beauty with claims to admiration, could have
wished. However, to counterbalance her personal de¬
fects, the marquise gave her daughter a distinguished
air, subjected her to hygienic treatment which provi¬
sionally kept her nose at a reasonable flesh-tint, taught
her the art of dressing well, endowed her with charm-
Eugenie Grandet.
269
ing manners, showed her the trick of melancholy
glances which interest a man and make him believe
that he has found a long-sought angel, taught her the
manoeuvre of the foot,—letting it peep beneath the
petticoat, to show its tiny size, at the moment when
the nose became aggressively red; in short, Madame
d'Aubrion had cleverly made the very best of her
offspring. By means of full sleeves, deceptive pads,
puffed dresses amply trimmed, and high-pressure cor¬
sets, she had obtained such curious feminine develop¬
ments that she ought, for the instruction of mothers,
to have exhibited them in a museum.
Charles became very intimate with Madame d'Au¬
brion precisely because she was desirous of becoming
intimate with him. Persons who were on board the
brig declared that the handsome Madame d'Aubrion
neglected no means Of capturing so rich a son-in-law.
On landing at Bordeaux in June, 1827, Monsieur,
Madame, Mademoiselle d'Aubrion, and Charles lodged
at the same hotel and started together for Paris. The
hotel d'Aubrion was hampered with mortgages;
Charles was destined to free it. The mother told him
how delighted she would be to give up the ground-
floor to a son-in-law. Not sharing Monsieur d'Au-
brion's prejudices on the score of nobility, she promised
Charles Grandet to obtain a royal ordinance from
Charles X. which would authorize him, Grandet, to
18
270 Eugenie Grandet.
take the name and arms of d'Aubrion and to succeed,
by purchasing the entailed estate for thirty-six thousand
francs a year, to the titles of Captal de Buch and Mar¬
quis d'Aubrion. By thus uniting their fortunes, liv¬
ing on good terms, and profiting by sinecures, the two
families might occupy the hotel d'Aubrion with an
income of over a hundred thousand fraucs.
" And when a man has a hundred thousand francs a
year, a name, a family, and a position at court, —for I
will get you appointed as gentleman-of-the-bedchamber,
— he can do what he likes," she said to Charles. " You
can then become anything you choose, — master of the
rolls in the council of State, prefect, secretary to an
embassy, the ambassador himself, if you like. Charles
X. is fond of d'Aubrion; they have known each other
from childhood."
Intoxicated with ambition, Charles toyed with the
hopes thus cleverly presented to him in the guise of
confidences poured from heart to heart. Believing his
father's affairs to have been settled by his uncle, he
imagined himself suddenly anchored in the Faubourg
Saint-Germain, — that social object of all desire, where,
under shelter of Mademoiselle Mathilde's purple nose,
he was to reappear as the Comte d'Aubrion, very much
as the Dreux reappeared in Breze. Dazzled by the
prosperity of the Restoration, which was tottering when
he left France, fascinated by the splendor of aristo-
Eugenie Grandet.
271
cratic ideas, his intoxication, which began on the brig,
increased after he reached Paris, and he finally deter¬
mined to take the course and reach the high position
which the selfish hopes of his would-be mother-in-law
pointed out to him. His cousin counted for no more
than a speck in this brilliant perspective ; but he went
to see Annette. True woman of the world, Annette ad¬
vised her old friend to make the marriage, and promised
him her support in all his ambitious projects. In her
heart she was enchanted to fasten an ugly and unin¬
teresting girl on Charles, whose life in the West Indies
had rendered him very attractive. His complexion had
bronzed, his manners had grown decided and bold, like
those of a man accustomed to make sharp decisions,
to rule, and to succeed. Charles breathed more at his
ease in Paris, conscious that he now had a part to
play.
Des Grassins, hearing of his return, of his approach¬
ing marriage and his large fortune, came to see him,
and inquired about the three hundred thousand francs
still required to settle his father's debts. He found
Grandet in conference with a goldsmith, from whom
he had ordered jewels for Mademoiselle d'Aubrion's
corbeille, and who was then submitting the designs.
Charles had brought back magnificent diamonds, and
the value of their setting, together with the plate and
jewelry of the new establishment, amounted to more
272 EugSnie Crrandet.
than two hundred thousand francs. He received des
Grassins, whom he did not recognize, with the imperti¬
nence of a young man of fashion conscious of having
killed four men in as many duels in the Indies. Mon¬
sieur des Grassins had already called several times.
Charles listened to him coldly, and then replied, without
fully understanding what had been said to him, —
" My father's affairs are not mine. I am much
obliged, monsieur, for the trouble you have been
good enough to take, — by which, however, I really
cannot profit. I have not earned two millions by the
sweat of my brow to fling thefn at the head of my
father's creditors."
" But suppose that your father's estate were within a
few daj^s to be declared bankrupt?"
'' Monsieur, in a few days I shall be called the Comte
d'Aubrion; you will understand, therefore, that what
you threaten is of no consequence to me. Besides,
you know as well as I do that when a man has an in¬
come of a hundred thousand francs his father has
never failed." So saying, he politely edged Monsieur
des Grassins to the door.
At the beginning of August in the same year, Eu¬
genie was sitting on the little wooden bench where her
cousin had sworn to love her eternally, and where she
usually breakfasted if the weather were fine. The poor
Eugenie Grandet. 273
girl was happy, for the moment, in the fresh and joyous
summer air, letting her memory recall the great and the
little events of her love and the catastrophes which had
followed it. The sun had just reached the angle of the
ruined wall, so full of chinks, which no one, through a
caprice of the mistress, was allowed to touch, though
Cornoiller often remarked to his wife that "it would
fall and crush somebody one of these days." At this
moment the postman knocked, and gave a letter to Ma¬
dame Cornoiller, who ran into the garden, crying out:
" Mademoiselle, a letter!" She gave it to her mis¬
tress, adding, " Is it the one you expected? "
The words rang as loudly in the heart of Eugenie as
they echoed in sound from wall to wall of the court and
garden.
" Paris — from him — he has returned ! "
Eugenie turned pale and held the letter for a mo¬
ment. She trembled so violently that she could not
break the seal. La Grande Nanon stood before her,
both hands on her hips, her joy puffing as it were like
smoke through the cracks of her brown face.
" Read it, mademoiselle ! "
" Ah, Nanon, why did he return to Paris? He went
from Saumur."
" Read it, and you '11 find out."
Eugenie opened the letter with trembling fingers. A
cheque on the house of " Madame des Grassins and
274
Eugenie Gtrandet.
Corret, of Saumur," fluttered down. Nanon picked
it up.
My dear Cousin, —
"No longer 'Eugenie,'" she thought,and her heart
quailed.
You —
"He once said 'thou.'" She folded her arms and
dared not read another word; great tears gathered in
her eyes.
" Is he dead? " asked Nanon.
"If he were, he could not write," said Eugenie.
She then read the whole letter, which was as follows:
My Dear Cousin, — You will, I am sure, hear with
pleasure of the success of my enterprise. You brought me
luck; I have come back rich, and I have followed the advice
of my uncle, whose death, together with that of my aunt, I
have just learned from Monsieur des Grassins. The death
of parents is in the course of nature, and we must succeed
them. I trust you are by this time consoled. Nothing can
resist time, as I am well awai-e. Yes, my dear cousin, the
day of illusions is, unfortunately, gone for me. 1 How could
it be otherwise ? Travelling through many lands, I have re¬
flected upon life. I was a child when I went away, — I have
come back a man. To-day, I think of many things I did
not dream of then. You are free, my dear cousin, and I am
free still. Nothing apparently hinders the realization of our
early hopes; but my nature is too loyal to hide from you the
situation in which I find myself. I have not forgotten our
relations; I have always remembered, throughout my long
wanderings, the little wooden seat —
Eugenie Grrandet.
275
Eugenie rose as if she were sitting on live coals, and
went away and sat down on the stone steps of the
court.
— the little wooden seat where we vowed to love each other
forever, the passage, the gray hall, my attic chamber, and
the night when, by your delicate kindness, you made my
future easier to me. Yes, these recollections sustained my
courage; I said in my heart that you were thinking of me at
the hour we had agreed upon. Have you always looked at
the clouds at nine o'clock? Yes, I am sure of it. I cannot
betray so true a friendship,—no, I must not deceive you.
An alliance has been proposed to me which satisfies all
my ideas of matrimony. Love in marriage is a delusion.
My present experience warns me that in marrying we are
bound to obey all social laws and meet the conventional de¬
mands of the world. Now, between you and me there are
differences which might affect your future, my dear cousin,
even more than they would mine. I will not here speak of
your customs and inclinations, your education, nor yet of
your habits, none of which are in keeping with Parisian life,
or with the future which I have marked out for myself. My
intention is to keep my household on a stately footing, to
receive much company, — in short, to live in the world; and I
think I remember that you love a quiet and tranquil life. I
will be frank, and make you the judge of my situation; you
have the right to understand it and to judge it.
I possess at the present moment an income of eighty
thousand francs. This fortune enables me to marry into the
family of Aubrion, whose heiress, a young girl nineteen years
of age, brings me a title, the place of gentleman-of-the-bed-
chamber to Ilis Majesty, and a very brilliant position. I
276
Eugenie G-randet.
will admit to you, my dear cousin, that I do not love Made¬
moiselle d'Aubrion; but in marrying her I secure to my
children a social rank whose advantages will one day be in¬
calculable : monarchical principles are daily coming more and
more into favor. Thus in course of time my son, when he
becomes Marquis d'Aubrion, having, as he then will have,
an entailed estate with a rental of forty thousand francs a
year, can obtain any position in the State which he may
think proper to select. We owe ourselves to our children.
You see, my cousin, with what good faith I lay the state
of my heart, my hopes, and my fortune before you. Possi¬
bly, after seven years' separation, you have yourself forgotten
our youthful loves; but I have never forgotten either your
kindness or my own words. I remember all, even words
that were lightly uttered, — words by which a man less con¬
scientious than I, with a heart less youthful and less upright,
would scarcely feel himself bound. In telling you that the
marriage I propose to make is solely one of convenience, that
I still remember our childish love, am I not putting myself en¬
tirely in your hands and making you the mistress of my fate ?
am I not telling you that if I must renounce my social ambi¬
tions, I shall willingly content myself with the pure and simple
happiness of which you have shown me so sweet an image?
" Tan, ta, ta, — tan, ta, ti," sang Charles Grandet to
the air of Non piu andrai, as he signed himself, —
Your devoted cousin,
Charles.
"Thunder! that's doing it handsomelj*!" he said,
as he looked about him for the cheque ; having found it,
he added the words: —
Eugenie Grandet.
277
P.S. — 1 enclose a cheque on the des Grassins bank for
eight thousand francs to your order, payable in gold, -which
includes the capital and interest of the sum you were kind
enough to lend me. I am expecting a case from Bordeaux
which contains a few things which you must allow me to
offer you as a mark of my unceasing gratitude. You can
send my dressing-case by the diligence to the hotel d'Au-
brion, rue Hillerin-Bertin.
" By the diligence ! " said Eugenie. " A thing for
which I would have laid down my life !"
Terrible and utter disaster! The ship went down,
leaving not a spar, not a plank, on the vast ocean of
hope! Some women when thej7 see themselves aban¬
doned will try to tear their lover from the arms of a
rival, they will kill her, and rush to the ends of the
earth, —to the scaffold, to their tomb. That, no doubt,
is fine ; the motive of the crime is a great passion, which
awes even human justice. Other women bow their
heads and suffer in silence; they go their way dying,
resigned, weeping, forgiving, praying, and recollecting,
till they draw their latest breath. This is love, — true
love, the love of angels, the proud love which lives
upon its anguish and dies of it. Such was Eugenie's
love after she had read that dreadful letter. She raised
her eyes to heaven, thinking of the last words uttered
b}r her dying mother, who, with the prescience of death,
had looked into the future with clear and penetrating
eyes: Eugenie, remembering that prophetic death, that
278
Eugenie Crrandet.
prophetic life, measured with oue glance her own des¬
tiny. Nothing was left for her ; she could only unfold
her wings, stretch upward to the skies, and live in
prayer until the day of her deliverance.
" My mother was right," she said, weeping. " Suf¬
fer — and die! "
Eugenie Qrandet.
279
XIV.
Eugenie came slowly back from the garden to the
house, and avoided passing, as was her custom, through
the corridor. But the memory of her cousin was in the
gray old hall and on the chimney-piece, where stood
a certain saucer and the old Sevres sugar-bowl which
she used every morning at her breakfast.
This day was destined to be solemn throughout and
full of events. Nanon announced the cure of the parish
church. He was related to the Cruchots, and therefore
in the intei*ests of Monsieur de Bonfons. For some
time past the old abbe had urged him to speak to Made¬
moiselle Grandet, from a purely religious point of view,
about the duty of marriage for a woman in her position.
When she saw her pastor, Eugenie supposed he had
come for the thousand francs which she gave monthly
to the poor, and she told Nanon to go and fetch them ;
but the cure only smiled.
" To-day, mademoiselle," he said, "I have come to
speak to you about a poor girl in whom the whole town
of Saumur takes an interest, who, through lack of
charity to herself, neglects her Christian duties."
280 EugSnie Grandet.
"Monsieur le cure, you have come to me at a mo¬
ment when I cannot think of my neighbor, I am filled
with thoughts of myself. I am very unhappy; my only
refuge is in the Church: her bosom is large enough to
hold all human woe, her love so full that we may
draw from its depths and never drain it dry."
" Mademoiselle, in speaking of this young girl we
shall speak of you. Listen! If you wish to insure your
salvation you have only, two paths to take, — either
leave the world or obey its laws. Obey either your
earthly destiny or your heavenly destin}*."
" Ah! your voice speaks to me when I need to hear
a voice. Yes, God has sent you to me; I will bid fare¬
well to the world and live for God alone, in silence and
seclusion."
" My daughter, 3*011 must think long before you take
so violent a step. Marriage is life, the veil is death."
" Yes, death, — a quick death ! " she said, with dread¬
ful eagerness.
" Death? but you have great obligations to fulfil to
society, mademoiselle. Are 3rou not the mother of the
poor, to whom 3*ou give clothes and wood in win¬
ter and work in summer? Your great fortune is a
loan which you must return, and }Tou have sacredly
accepted it as such. To bury 3*ourself in a convent
would be selfishness; to remain an old maid is to fail
in duty. In the first place, can you manage your vast
EugSnie Grandet. 281
property alone? May you not lose it? You will have
law-suits, you will find yourself surrounded by inex¬
tricable difficulties. Believe your pastor: a husband is
useful; you are bound to preserve what God has be¬
stowed upon you. I speak to you as a precious lamb
of my flock. You love God too truly not to find your
salvation in the midst of his world, of which you are a
noble ornament and to which you owe your example."
At this moment Madame des Grassins was announced.
She came incited by vengeance and the sense of a great
despair.
"Mademoiselle," she said — "Ah! here is mon¬
sieur le cure ; I am silent. I came to speak to j'ou on
business ; but I see that you are conferring with — "
" Madame," said the cure, " I leave the field to }'ou."
" Oh ! monsieur le cure," said Eugenie, " come back
later; your support is very necessarj^ to me just now."
" Ah, 3'es, indeed, my poor child! " said Madame des
Grassins.
" What do you mean? " asked Eugenie and the cure
together.
" Don't I know about yo'ur cousin's return, and his
marriage with Mademoiselle d'Aubrion? A woman
does n't carry her wits in her pocket."
Eugenie blushed, and remained silent for a moment.
From this day forth she assumed the impassible coun¬
tenance for which her father had been so remarkable.
282
Eugenie Grandet.
"Well, madame," she presently said, ironically, " no
doubt I carry my wits in my pocket, for I do not under¬
stand you. Speak, say what you mean, before monsieur
le cure ; you know he is my director."
"Well, then, mademoiselle, here is what des Grassins
writes me. Read it."
Eugenie read the following letter: —
My dear Wife, — Charles Grandet has returned from the
Indies and has been in Paris about a month —
" A month! " thought Eugenie, her hand falling to
her side. After a pause she resumed the letter, —
I had to dance attendance before I was allowed to see the
future Vicomte d'Aubrion. Though all Paris is talking of
his marriage and the banns are published —
" He wrote to me after that! " thought Eugenie. She
did not conclude the thought; she did not cry out, as
a Parisian woman would have done, "The villain!"
but though she said it not, contempt was none the less
present in her mind.
The marriage, however, will not come off. The Marquis
d' Aubrion will never give his daughter to the son of a bank¬
rupt. I went to tell Grandet of the steps his uncle and I
took in his father's business, and the clever manoeuvres by
which we had managed to keep the creditors quiet until the
present time. The insolent fellow had the face to say to
me—to me, who for five years have devoted myself night
Eugenie Gtrandet.
283
and day to his interests and his honor! — that his father's af¬
fairs were not his ! A solicitor would have had the right to
demand fees amounting to thirty or forty thousand francs,
one per cent on the total of the debts. But patience! there
are twelve hundred thousand francs legitimately owing to the
creditors, and I shall at once declare his father a bankrupt.
I went into this business on the word of that old croco¬
dile Grandet, and I have made promises in the name of the
family. If Monsieur le vicomte d'Aubrion does not care for
his honor, I care for mine. I shall explain my position to
the creditors. Still, I have too much respect for Mademoi¬
selle Eugenie (to whom under happier circumstances we once
hoped to be allied) to act in this matter before you have
spoken to her about it —
There Eugenie paused, and coldly returned the letter
without finishing it.
" I thank you," she said to Madame des Grassins.
"Ah! you have the voice and manner of your de¬
ceased father," Madame des Grassins replied.
" Madame, you have eight thousand francs to pay
us," said Nan on, producing Charles's cheque.
'' That's true ; have the kindness to come with me
now, Madame Cornoiller."
"Monsieur le cure," said Eugenie with a noble
composure, inspired by the thought she was about to
express, "would it be a sin to remain a virgin after
marriage ? "
"That is a case of conscience whose solution is not
within my knowledge. If you wish to know what the
284 JEugSnie Grrandet.
celebrated Sanchez says of it in his treatise ' De Mat-
rimonio,' I shall be able to tell you to-morrow."
The cure went away *, Mademoiselle Grandet went
up to her father's secret room and spent the. day there
alone, without coming down to dinner, in spite of Na-
non's entreaties. She appeared in the evening at the
hour when the usual company began to arrive. Never
was the old hall so full as on this occasion. The news
of Charles's return and his foolish treachery had spread
through the whole town. But however watchful the
curiosity of the visitors might be, it was left unsatisfied.
Eugenie, who expected scrutin}-, allowed none of the
cruel emotions that wrung her soul to appear on the
calm surface of her face. She was able to show a smil¬
ing front in answer to all who tried to testify their in¬
terest by mournful looks or melancholy speeches. She
hid her misery behind a veil of courtesy. Towards nine
o'clock the games ended and the players left the tables,
paying their losses and discussing points of the game
as they joined "the rest of the company. At the mo¬
ment when the whole party rose to take leave, an un¬
expected and striking event occurred, which resounded
through the length and breadth of Saumur, from thence
through the arrondissement, and even to the four sur¬
rounding prefectures.
" Stay, monsieur le president," said Eugenie to Mon¬
sieur de Bonfons as she saw him take his cane.
Euginie Grandet.
285
There was not a person in that numerous assembly
who was unmoved by these words. The president
turned pale, and was forced to sit down.
" The president gets the millions," said Mademoiselle
de Gribeaucourt.
"It is plain enough; the president marries Made¬
moiselle Grandet," cried Madame d'Orsonval.
"All the trumps in one hand," said the abbe.
'' A love game," said the notary.
Each and all said his say, made his pun, and looked
at the heiress mounted on her millions as on a pedestal.
The drama begun nine j'ears before had reached its
conclusion. To tell the president, in face of all Sau-
mur, to " stay," was surely the same thing as proclaim¬
ing him her husband. In provincial towns social
conventionalities are so rigidly enforced that an infrac¬
tion like this constituted a solemn promise.
" Monsieur le president," said Eugenie in a voice of
some emotion when they were left alone, " I know what
pleases you in me. Swear to leave me free during my
whole life, to claim none of the rights which marriage
will give you over me, and my hand is yours. Oh!"
she added, seeing him about to kneel at her feet, "I
have more to say. I must not deceive you. In ny
heart I cherish one inextinguishable feeling. Friend¬
ship is the only sentiment which I can give to a hus¬
band. I wish neither to affront him nor to violate the
19
286 EugSnie Grandet.
laws of my own "heart. But j'ou can possess my hand
and my fortune only at the cost of doing me an inesti¬
mable service."
"I am ready for all things," said the president.
"Here are fifteen hundred thousand francs," she
said, drawing from her bosom a certificate of a hundred
shares in the Bank of France. " Go to Paris, — not
to-morrow, but instantty. Find Monsieur des Gras-
sins, learn the names of my uncle's creditors, call
them together, pay them in full all that was owing,
with interest at five per cent from the day the debt
was incurred to the present time. Be careful to ob¬
tain a full and legal receipt, in proper form, before a
notary. You are a magistrate, and I can trust this
matter in your hands. You are a man of honor; I will
put faith in your word, and meet the dangers of life
under shelter of your name. Let us have mutual in¬
dulgence. We have known each other so long that
we are almost related; you would not wish to render
me unhappy."
The president fell at the feet of the rich heiress, his
heart beating and wrung with joy.
" I will be your slave ! " he said.
" When you obtain the receipts, monsieur," she re¬
sumed, with a cold glance, " you will take them with all
the other papers to my cousin Grandet, and you will give
him this letter. On your return I will keep my word."
EugSnie Grandet.
287
The president understood perfectly that he owed the
acquiescence of Mademoiselle Grandet to some bitter¬
ness of love, and he made haste to obey her orders, lest
time should effect a reconciliation between the pair.
When Monsieur de Bonfons left her, Eugenie fell back
in her chair and burst into tears. All was over.
The president took the mail-post, and reached Paris
the next evening. The morning after his arrival he
went to see des Grassins, and together they summoned
the creditors to meet at the notary's office where the
vouchers had been deposited. Not a single creditor
failed to be present. Creditors though thej- were, jus¬
tice must be done to them,—they were all punctual.
Monsieur de Bonfons, in the name of Mademoiselle
Grandet, paid them the amount of their claims with
interest. The payment of interest was a remarkable
event in the Parisian commerce of that day. When
the receipts were all legally registered, and des Gras¬
sins had received for his services the sum of fifty thou¬
sand francs allowed to him by Eugenie, the president
made his way to the hotel d'Aubrion and found Charles
just entering his own apartment after a serious en¬
counter with his prospective father-in-law. The old
marquis had told him plainly that he should not marry
his daughter until all the creditors of Guillaume Gran¬
det had been paid in full.
The president gave Charles the following letter: —
288
EugSnie G-randet.
My Cousin, — Monsieur le president de Bonfons has un¬
dertaken to place in your hands the acquittance for all claims
upon my uncle, also a receipt by which I acknowledge hav¬
ing received from you the sum total of those claims. I have
heard of a possible failure, and I think that the son of a
bankrupt may not be able to marry Mademoiselle d'Aubrion.
Yes, my cousin, you judged rightly of my mind and of my
manners. I have, it is true, no part in the world; I under¬
stand neither its calculations nor its customs; and I could not
give you the pleasures that you seek in it. Be happy, ac¬
cording to the social conventions to which you have sacrificed
our love. To make your happiness complete I can only offer
you your father's honor. Adieu! You ^will always have a
faithful friend in your cousin
Eugenie.
The president smiled at the exclamation which the
ambitious j7oung man could not repress as he received
the documents.
" We will announce our marriages at the same time,"
remarked Monsieur de Bonfons.
"Ah! you marry Eugenie ? Well, I am delighted;
she is a good girl. But," added Charles, struck with
a luminous idea, "she must be rich?"
"She had," said the president, with a mischievous
smile, " about nineteen millions four days ago; but she
has only seventeen millions to-day."
Charles looked at him thunderstruck.
1' Seventeen mil — "
" Seventeen millions ; yes, monsieur. We shall mus-
Eugenie Grandet.
289
ter, Mademoiselle Grandet and I, an income of seven
hundred and fifty thousand francs when we marry."
" My dear cousin," said Charles, recovering a little of
his assurance, " we can push each'other's fortunes."
"Agreed," said the president. "Here is also a
little case which I am charged to give into your own
hands," he added, placing on the table the leather box
which contained the dressing-case.
"Well, my dear friend," said Madame d'Aubrion,
entering the room without noticing the president,
"don't pay any attention to what poor Monsieur
d'Aubrion has just said to you; the Duchesse de Chau-
lieu has turned his head. I repeat, nothing shall inter¬
fere with the marriage — "
"Very good, madame. The three millions which
my father owed were paid yesterday."
" In money?" she asked.
"Yes, in full, capital and interest; and I am about
to do honor to his memory — "
" What folly ! " exclaimed his mother-in-law. " Who
is this?" she whispered in Grandet's ear, perceiving
the president.
" My man of business," he answered in a low voice.
The marquise bowed superciliously to Monsieur de
Bonfons.
" We are pushing each other's fortunes already," said
the president, taking up his hat. " Good-by, cousin."
290 Eugenie Grandet.
"He is laughing at me, the old cockatoo! I'd
like to put six ounces of lead into him!" muttered
Charles.
The president was out of hearing. Three days later
Monsieur de Bonfons, on his return to Saumur, an¬
nounced his marriage with Eugenie. Six months after
the marriage he was appointed councillor in the Cour
royale at Angers. Before leaving Saumur Madame de
Bonfons had the gold of certain jewels, once precious to
her heart, melted up, and put, together with the eight
thousand francs paid back by her cousin, into a golden
pyx, which she gave to the parish church where she
had so long prayed for him. She now spent her time
between Angers and Saumur. Her husband, who had
shown some public spirit on a certain occasion, became
a judge in the superior courts, and finally, after a few
years, president of them. He was anxiously awaiting
a general election, in the hope of being returned to the
Chamber of deputies. He hankered after a peerage;
and then—
"The king will be his cousin, won't he?" said Na-
non, la Grande Nanon, Madame Cornoiller, bonrgeoisc
of Saumur, as she listened to her mistress, who was
recounting the honors to which she was called.
Nevertheless, Monsieur de Bonfons (he had finally
abolished his patronymic of Cruchot) did not realize
any of his ambitious ideas. He died eight days after
Eugenie Qrandet.
291
his election as deputy of Saumur. God, who sees all
and never strikes amiss, punished him, no doubt, for
his sordid calculations and the legal cleverness with
which, accurante Cruchot, he had drawn up his mar¬
riage contract, in which husband and wife gave to each
other, " in case they should have no children, their
entire property of every hind, landed or otherwise,
without exception or reservation, dispensing even with
the formality of an inventory/ provided that said
omission of said inventory shall not injure their
heirs and assigns, it being understood that this deed
of gift is, etc., etc." This clause of the contract will
explain the profound respect which monsieur le presi¬
dent always testified for the wishes, and above all, for
the solitude of Madame de Bonfons. Women cited
him as the most considerate and delicate of men,
pitied him, and even went so far as to find fault with
the passion and grief of Eugenie, blaming her, as
women know so well how to blame, with cruel but
discreet insinuation.
'' Madame de Bonfons must be very ill to leave
her husband entirely alone. Poor woman! Is she
likely to get well? What is it? Something gastric?
A cancer?" — " She has grown perfectly yellow. She
ought to consult some celebrated doctor in Paris." —
"How can she be happy without a child? They say
she loves her husband; then why not give him an
292 EugSnie Gfrandet.
heir? — in his position, too ! " — " Do you know, it is
really dreadful! If it is the result of mere caprice, it is
unpardonable. Poor president! "
Endowed with the delicate perception which a soli-
taiy soul acquires through constant meditation, through
the exquisite clear-sightedness with which a mind aloof
from life fastens on all that falls within its sphere,
Eugenie, taught by suffering and by her later education
to divine thought, knew well that the president desired
her death that he might step into possession of their
immense fortune, augmented by the propeity of his
uncle the notary and his uncle the abbe, whom it had
lately pleased God to call to himself. The poor soli¬
tary pitied the president. Providence avenged her for
the calculations and the indifference of a husband who
respected the hopeless passion on which she spent her
life because it was his surest safeguard. To give life
to a child would give death to his hopes, —the hopes of
selfishness, the joys of ambition, which the president
cherished as he looked into the future.
God thus flung piles of gold upon this prisoner to
whom gold was a matter of indifference, who longed
for heaven, who lived, pious and good, in holy
thoughts, succoring the unfortunate in secret, and
never wearying of such deeds. Madame de Bonfons
became a widow at thirty-six. She is still beautiful, but
with the beaut}- of a woman who is nearly forty years
Eugenie Grandet.
283
of age. Her face is white and placid and calm ; her
voice gentle and self-possessed ; her manners are simple.
She has the noblest qualities of sorrow, the saintliness
of one who has never soiled her soul by contact with
the world ; but she has also the rigid bearing of an old
maid and the petty habits inseparable from the narrow
round of provincial life. In spite of her vast wealth,
she lives as the poor Eugenie Grandet once lived. The
fire is never lighted on her hearth until the da}7 when
her father allowed it to be lighted in the hall, and it is
put out in conformity with the rules which governed
her youthful years. She dresses as her mother dressed.
The house in Saumur, without sun, without warmth,
always in shadow, melancholy, is an image of her life.
She carefully accumulates her income, and might seem
parsimonious did she not disarm criticism by a noble
employment of her wealth. Pious and charitable insti¬
tutions, a hospital for old age, Christian schools for
children, a public library richly endowed, bear testi¬
mony against the charge of avarice which some persons
lay at her door. The churches of Saumur owe much
of their embellishment to her. Madame de Bonfons
(sometimes ironically spoken of as mademoiselle) in¬
spires for the most part reverential respect: and yet
that noble heart, beating only with tenderest emotions,
has been, from first to last, subjected to the calculations
of human selfishness ; money has cast its frigid influ-
294 Eugenie Grandet.
ence upon that hallowed life and taught distrust of
feelings to a woman who is all feeling.
"I have none but you to love me," she says to
Nanon.
The hand of this woman stanches the secret wounds
in many families. She goes on her way to heaven at¬
tended by a train of benefactions. The grandeur of
her soul redeems the narrowness of her education and
the petty habits of her early life.
Such is the history of Eugenie Grandet, who is in
the world but not of it; who, created to be supremely
a wife and mother, has neither husband nor children
nor family. Lately there has been some question of
her marrying again. The Saumur people talk of her
and of the Marquis de Froidfond, whose family are
beginning to beset the rich widow just as, in former
days, the Cruchots laid siege to the rich heiress.
Nanon and Cornoiller are, it is said, in the interests of
the marquis. Nothing could be more false. Neither
la Grande Nanon nor Cornoiller has sufficient mind
to understand the corruptions of the world.
[From the New York Tribune of October IS, 1885.]
BALZAC IN ENGLISH.
PERE GORIOT. Honore de Balzac.
To understand Balzac thoroughly, indeed, he must be read in the
original and as a whole. Selected pieces from the " Comedie
Humaine " may convey a sufficiently clear apprehension, for the pub¬
lic, of his powers, but a careful study of that wonderful scheme
throughout is indispensable to a real knowledge of his aim and scope.
The " Comedie Humaine " is the most remarkable work of its kind
extant. It is not mere fiction. It is, as Balzac intended it to be, a
faithful history of the France of his time ; a history so faithful and
so detailed that were all other contemporary literature destroyed,
posterity could from this work reconstruct an exact and finished
picture of the age. In his general preface (which the publishers
have judiciously prefixed to their translation of "Pure Goriot")
the author gives some account of his plan. His aim was to do for
society what Buffon had done for the animal kingdom. Since, how¬
ever, men and women are complex creatures, and since their acts and
sufferings are caused mainly by the influence of passions whose treat¬
ment demands a profound study of psychology, it is evident that the
task of the novelist, or, as he might be better named, the social
historian, must be much more difficult than that of the naturalist.
Balzac, however, supported by that confidence in its own powers
which so often characterizes genius, grappled boldly with this arduous
undertaking. He was to write the history of his time, nothing ex¬
tenuating, and setting down naught in malice, painting in their due
proportions the vices and the virtues of the period, showing the springs
that moved society, the passions that furnished motives to actions, the
meannesses, the magnanimities, the rapacity, the self-sacrifice, the
sensuality, the purity, the piety, the heathenism of his fellow men
and women. His equipment for the work was splendid. Ilis erudition
was both extensile and curious. He knew not only common but
recondite things. In science lie had outstripped his generation. In
2
BALZAG IN ENGLISH.
the "Com&lie Humaine" may be recognized the practical embodiment
of evolutionary philosophy. The influence of the environment upon
character and conduct is always insisted upon by him. And because
he never loses sight of the natural processes through which character
is moulded and changed, his characters possess a peculiar reality and
vitality. To him they were indeed living, and the rare faculty by
which, in the alembic of his mind, all the complex influences and
agencies concerned went to form, complete, and vivify these creations,
has endowed them with so strong an individuality that they live and
move still for the reader. Nothing that belonged to Balzac's time
escaped him, and he explored the obscurer lines of research as con¬
scientiously as those more open and clear. Thus it is that there is to
be found in his works references to what are now thought the super¬
natural theories of the day, and he has sounded the depths of mysti¬
cism with the same devotion shown in his pursuit of physical science.
Critics have regretted that he had no high moral aim ; but this
regret seems to imply misapprehension of his purpose not less than
error as to his achievements. His aim was to describe life as it was
being lived under his eyes. That his tendencies were not debasing is
shown by the striking contrast between his work and that of Zola.
In the latter's writings the ugly, vile, and horrible is so elaborated,
exaggerated, and kept in the foreground that it colours and character¬
izes everything. In Balzac there is not less realism, and nothing more
graphic than his descriptions of the seamy side of life has ever been
written. But there is no taint of lubricity, and no suggestion of liking
for the scenes so depicted. A sombre fire runs through all the pictures
of low and vicious life, which, while enhancing the skill of the artist,
moves to pity or indignation because of the destinies so sadly fixed.
Perhaps no better example of his style than " Pere Goriot" could be
selected. Pere Goriot is the Lear of modern society ; and though the
passions which move the characters are for the most part sordid and
base, the pathos and power of the story are so great, that even in
translation the genius of the master is unmistakable. There is nothing
in fiction more pitiful than the figure of old Goriot, and the skill of
the creator, which sets down all the defects and limitations of the hero,
thereby accentuates his devotion and the ignoble tragedy of his fate.
Balzac, however, never adopted the modern vice known as the
" star system " in dramatic management. There were no " sticks " in
BALZAG IN ENGLISH.
3
his company. Every character is complete, intelligible, consistent,
progressive. Neither does he pad. From beginning to end, save as
regards his descriptions of things and places, every sentence has direct
relation to the working out of the plot. And as to those long and
minute descriptions, which have vexed some critics, they were written
with the distinct and avowed purpose of preserving faithful likenesses
which should be of use to the historian of the future. Nor are they
tiresome, but often seem to sharpen the realization of the story, and
in all cases increase the general impression of fidelity to facts. The
style of Balzac is very remarkable for its power. It is nervous, full of
suppressed fire, suggesting a brain so prolific of thoughts that the utmost
care had to be exercised to prevent them from overcrowding one another.
The concentrated force of expression frequently reminds one of Shakespeare,
and bursts of marvellous impassioned eloquence—not of the frothy kind,
but presenting truths deep as the centre—at intervals flash out, adding to
the sense of repressed volcanic power which pervades these works.
The defects of Balzac are those of his time and country. It is
curious that while he himself finds no really lofty female characters
in English fiction, even belittling the heroines of Scott, and advancing
the strange theory that the neglect by Protestant peoples of the wor¬
ship of the Virgin has lowered their standard of womanhood, his own
most ambitious types of piety and purity in woman exhibit less of
his characteristic knowledge of human nature than any of his other
characters. This type, in fact, he appears to have described from pure
imagination, with the result that his creations of this class are cold,
unapproachable, abnormal, bloodless beings, whose goodness does not
impress us as meritorious, because they are essentially incapable of
wrong-doing. In a word, he has filled up the vacant niche with con¬
ventional angels, only removing their wings. As to the low plane of
the ambitions which move so many of his characters, no doubt he
would have said that he merely took the world as he found it; that
these were the prevailing ambitions, and that he could not make
society better than it was. And doubtless there is much force in this,
though it must be acknowledged that the France of Balzac's time
afforded almost as abundant material for satire as the Rome of
Juvenal.
Taking him at his own estimate, however, and accepting his view
of the duties of the novelist under the given conditions—a view, be
4
BALZAC IN ENGLISH.
it said, which is always open to doubt and dispute—it is impossible
not to admire the depth of his insight and the marvellous scope and
comprehensiveness of his genius. The enterprise he undertook was
gigantic, yet what he accomplished was so monumental a work as to
prove the justness of his self-appreciation. Some day, perhaps, a
complete translation of the " Corned ie Humaine" will be undertaken.
"Cesar Birotteau," and one or two more of Balzac's stories, have been
put into English already, though inadequately. There ought to be,
in the United States and England, at the present time enough lovers
of good literature to make such an undertaking as a complete trans¬
lation of this author remunerative. When we consider what masses
of trash pour from modern presses, and what capital is employed in
reproductions of so-called classics which have become rare and obscure
because they deserved oblivion, it seems reasonable to expect that
Balzac would find purchasers if issued in the form suggested.
The translation of " Pere Goriot" is very good, and Balzac is not the
easiest author to translate. The publishers cannot do better than to intrust
the succeeding volumes to the same capable hands, and it would be only
justice to the translator to put his or her name on the title-page; for it is
a meritorious deed to have turned into'excellent, nervous English the prose
of this great Frenchman, whose fire and fervour, clear sight and powerful
description, when contrasted with the average novel of the day, shine forth
with redoubled splendour, and whose brilliant genius in the analysis of
human character casts altogether into the shade the amateurish essays at
psychologic fiction which are gravely spoken of in these degenerate times as
the promising productions of a new and higher school of literary art.
From The Art Interchange, a Household Journal, for
February 13i 1886.
THE DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS,
WITH"
An Episode under the Terror, The Illustrious Gaudissart
A Passion in the Desert, and A Hidden Masterpiece.
By HONORE DE BALZAC.
Since the days when Thackeray and Dickens were issuing in num¬
bers those novels which have delighted so many readers, or George
Eliot's publishers were able to announce a new novel from her pen,
there has been no series of novels given to the public so notable and
so well worthy of wide attention on the part of adult readers as this
translation of Balzac. If it be objected, as it perhaps will be, that
there is a flavour of immorality in Balzac, and that his works are not
well adapted to general reading, it can be shown, we think, at least
so far as the charge of immorality is concerned, that the objection is
a superficial one; and that while there is much in the times and
society which form the groundwork of Balzac's marvellous stories
that is improper, and fortunately counter to our civilization, still,
Balzac's tone concerning these very things is a healthy one, and his
belief in purity and goodness, his faith in the possibilities of humanity,
is too clear to admit of a question. He gives us wonderful pictures
of the world he lived in. It was not altogether a good world. As it
was, he portrays it. Its virtues he praises, and its vices he condemns
—not by a page of mere moralizing, but by events and action, which,
swaying the ethics of society with apparent uncertainty hither and
thither, yet have an upward tread, even as they do in our world of
to-day. "The Duchesse de Langeais" is the novel of this volume.
It is from the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne of the Comddie Humaine.
The temptation and struggle of the Duchess is one which could
hardly, in our day, present itself to a pure-minded woman. In that
day and time it could, and did. In spite of her wild abandonment
to the lover who spurned her, the reader feels that Madame de
THE DUGHESSE DE LANGEA1S.
Langeais was a noble-hearted woman, purer than those who counselled
her a concealed enjoyment of her passion, nobler and better than the
society which made her what she was. With great power and pathos
is her story told. It is a very powerful scene when her lover meets
her in the convent, and very dramatic is her tortured cry to the
Mother Superior, " This man is my lover !" How strong and pitiful
the end, and the sad commitment to the waves of what was a woman
and now is nothing ! The volume also contains four short stories.
" An Episode under the Terror," from Scenes de la Vie~ Politique, is
a story already familiar from previous translation, which has drifted
around in English as much perhaps as any of Balzac's shorter stories.
" The Illustrious Gaudissart" is from Scenes de la Vie de Province,
an admirable example of Balzac's humour. Gaudissart is a commercial
traveller—a drummer, in familiar parlance. He might be a drummer
of to-day. If he were he could easily find employment with a high-
class house. The shrewdness and impudence of the class has not
varied much since Balzac's time. Gaudissart adds to his line a
children's magazine and the agency of a Life Insurance Company.
He is advised by the humorist of a provincial town to try his powers
of persuasion on a man who turns out to be a harmless but decided
lunatic. The scene between the two is humorous in the extreme.
When Gaudissart calls the insuring one's life for a large sum "the
discounting of future genius," he adds a persuasive phrase to the
rdpertoire of the life-insurance agent. " A Passion in the Desert" is
from Sc&nes de la Vie Militaire, and is as singular a tale as might be
imagined from the affection of a man and a tiger. The last of the
four is "The Hidden Masterpiece," from Etudes Philosophiques.
Here, to the readers of this edition, Balzac is seen in a new vein.
Here is something of the strange, weird touch of Hawthorne, some¬
thing of unreality, and the lingering vision of a possible moral. The
translation could hardly be in better hands. The English is delight¬
fully clear and nervous. Whoever reads these books will know
Balzac very well, and it is safe to assume that they will like him very
much.
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Rootlbdge's Excelsior Series—continued.
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v\ C. S. Carey, 572 pp., 3 cols, on a page.
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78 Sandford and Merton, with 60 illustrations.
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80 Todd's Student's Manual.
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84 Evenings at Home, with 60 illustrations.
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86 What can She do ? by the Rev. E. P. Roe.
87 Lowell's Poetical Works.
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89 Robin Hood Ballads, edited by Ritson.
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5 A Thousand and One Gems of
British Poetry.
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by Charles Knight.
7 Cruden's Concordance, by Carey.
8 Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson.
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xi The Family Doctor, 500 woodcuts,
za Sterne's Works, Complete.
13 Ten Thousand Wonderful Things.
14 Extraordinary Popular Delusions,
by Dr. Mackay.
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Unabridged.
18 Routledge's Modern Speaker-
Comic—Serious—Dramatic.
19 One Thousand and One Gems of
Prose, edited by C. Mackay.
ao Pope's Homer's Iliad and Odyssey.
33 Josephus, translated by Whiston.
34 Book of Proverbs, Phrases, Quota¬
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Theatrical, Legal, and American.
a6 Book of Table Talk, Wf C. Russell.
37 Junius, Woodfall's edition.
a3 Charles Lamb's Works.
39 Froissart's Chronicles. [matlon.
30 D'Aubigne's Story of the Refor-
31 A History of England, by the Rev.
James White.
3a Macaulay—Selected Essays, Mis-
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34 and series.
35 Essays by Sydney Smith.
36 Dante. Longfellow's translation.
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War, 1807.10. S3——1810-13.
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borne, with many illustrations.
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57 Chaucer's Poetical Works.
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C. Kent.
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Complete in one volume.
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the Great Fire of London, with
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