m?t •*&* ■\4 *• r.mf. ■■•: *i&8r& ..,'' m »• : "'' ■:*'£$' m<* . W»d. ,- f .• > * * *^ .*$ WJ ^^J^^^ 7/ TT, '*a\\, though known only to those who play their- part in each. As for the young women who go to these balls merely to say, "I have seen them," for provincials, for inexperienced youths, for foreigners, the Opera House on such nights must be a palace of weariness and ennui. To them this black crowd, slow yet hurried, going, coming, winding, turning, moving npward and again descending, which can be likened only to ants about their hill, is no more comprehen- sible than the Bourse to a Breton peasant who never heard of the Grand Livre. With rare exceptions men in Paris never mask themselves ; a man in domino is thought ridiculous. In this the instinct of the nation is shown. Men who wish to hide their happiness can go to the ball with- out coming there, and masks who are absolutely obliged to enter leave it as soon as possible. The masked men are jealous husbands who have come to spy upon their wives, or husbands engaged in some love affair who do not choose that their wives shall spy upon them, — two situations equally open to ridicule. The young man was followed, though he seemed not to know it, by a persistent mask, short and stout, rolling himself along like a cask. To all habitues of an Opera-ball this domino was a civil function- ary, a broker, a banker, a notary, in short a bour- geois of some kind, suspecting an infidelity. In the highest society no one ever goes in search of humili- ating testimony. Several masks had already pointed out to one another with a laugh this enormous person ; others had apostrophized him ; certain young men had Lucien de Rubempre. 3 twitted him ; but the carriage of his shoulders and his cool bearing showed a marked disdain for such random shots. He went where the young man led him, as the hunted wild-boar goes, indifferent to the balls that whistle about his ears or the hounds that are yelping after him. Although at the opening of a masked ball pleasure and anxiety wear the same livery — the illustrious black robe of Venice — and all seems mere confu- sion, the different circles of which Parisian society is composed soon meet, recognize, and observe one another. There are certain elementary signs so clear to initiates that these hieroglyphs of personal interests are as legible as an amusing novel. To a well-versed eye, therefore, this stout mask could not possibly be en bonne fortune, or he would infallibly have worn some prearranged sign, red, white, or green, signifi- cant of happiness previously agreed upon. Was he in quest of vengeance? After a while, seeing how closely the mask followed the man who was evidently bent on a love-affair, certain idlers began to take note of the beautiful face around which happiness had placed its divine halo. The young man interested the mind ; as he went and came he aroused curiosity. All things about him gave signs of a life of elegance. According to a fatal law of our epoch, there was little difference, either physical or moral, between the most distinguished and best-trained son of a duke and peer and this fasci- nating young man, whom poverty had lately gripped with her iron hands in the midst of Paris. Beauty and youth must have masked in him profound abysses, 4 Lucien de Eubempre. as in other young men who seek to play a part in Paris without possessing the needful means, youths who risk all for all by sacrificing to the most courted god of the regal city, — Chance. Nevertheless, his dress and manners were irreproachable, and he trod the classic precincts of the foyer as though he knew them well. Who has not remarked that there, as in all other zones of Paris, a habit of behavior shows what you are, what you do, whence you come, and what you desire? 44 Oh ! what a handsome young man ! We can turn round here and look at him," said a mask whom any habitue would have recognized as a well-bred woman. •" Don't you remember him?" replied the gentleman who accompanied her. " Madame du Chatelet once presented him to you." " You don't mean that son of an apothecary she was in love with, who became a journalist, — the lover of Mademoiselle Coralie ? " M I thought him fallen too low ever to rise again ; I don't understand how he has managed to re-appear in Parisian society," said Comte Sixte du Chatelet. 1 'He has the air of a prince," said the mask, " and that actress with whom he lived could never have given it to him. My cousin, who invented him, was never able to disinfect him wholly. I should like to know the mistress of this Sarginus. Tell me some- thing of his life that I may go and mystify him." The couple who then followed the young man, whis- pering in each other's ear, were instantly and particu- larly observed by the mask with the square shoulders. "Dear Monsieur Chardon," said the prefect of the Lucien de Rubempre. 5 Charente, taking the young dandy by the arm, " I present to you a lady who desires to renew her acquaintance with you." "Dear Comte Chatelet," replied the young man, "this lady makes me feel how ridiculous was the name you give me. An ordinance of the king has restored to me the name of my maternal ancestors, the Rubempr£s. Though the newspapers have an- nounced the fact, it concerns so insignificant a per- sonage that I do not blush to recall it to my friends, my enemies, and all indifferent persons. Class your- self as you please, but I am certain you will not dis- approve of a measure to which your wife, when she was only Madame de Bargeton, advised me." (This neat retort, which made the lady smile, sent a nervous thrill through the prefect of the Charente.) "Please tell her," added Lucien, "that I now bear gules, a bull savage argent, in a field vert." "Savage argent! " repeated Chatelet. " Madame la marquise will explain to you, if you don't know it, why this ancient coat-of-arms is better than the chamberlain's key and the golden bees of the Empire which are in yours, to the great despair of Madame Chatelet, nee Negrepelisse d'Espard," said Lucien, sharply. "As you have recognized me I cannot mystify you now, but also I cannot express to you how you mystify me," said the Marquise d'Espard, in a low voice, amazed at the cool self-possession and insolence ac^ quired by the man she had formerly despised. " Permit me therefore, madame, to retain the only chance I have of occupying your thoughts by remain- 6 Lucien de Rubempre. ing in that mysterious twilight," he replied, with the smile of a man who has no intention of compromising an assured happiness. The marquise could not restrain a displeased gesture at finding herself, as they say in England, cut by Lucien 's formality. " I congratulate you on your change of condition," said the Comte du Chatelet. "I receive your congratulations with the spirit in which you offer them," replied Lucien, bowing to the marquise with much grace. " Conceited puppy ! " said the count in a low voice to Madame d'Espard ; " he has succeeded at last in acquiring ancestors." " Conceit in young men, when practised upon us, is almost always the sign of some very high-placed hap- piness ; in men of your age it means ill-fortune. I should like to know which woman of our world has taken this fine birdling under her protection ; it might give me some chance of amusement to-night. My anonymous note is doubtless a bit of malice done by some rival, for it concerns this young man ; his im- pertinence may have been dictated to him. Watch him. I '11 take the arm of the Due de Navarreins, and you will know where to find me." Just as Madame d'Espard was about to join her relation, the stout mask stepped between her and the duke and whispered in her ear : — " Lucien loves you ; he wrote that note. Your pre- fect is his greatest enemy ; how then, could he explain himself before him ? " The unknown personage walked away, leaving Lucien de Rubempre. 7 Madame d'Espard the victim of a twofold surprise. She knew of no one able to play the part assumed by the mask ; she feared some trap, and went away by herself and sat down. Comte Sixte du Chatelet, whom Lucien had, as we have seen, deprived of his ambitious du with a malice which showed a predeter- mined vengeance, followed the handsome dandy at a distance, and presently met a young man to whom he thought he could safely unbosom himself. "Well, Rastignac, have you seen Lucien? he has come to life again, with a new skin." " If I were as handsome a fellow as he, I 'd be still richer than he," replied the young man, in an airy tone, though shrewd and expressive of Attic sarcasm. " No," said the voice of the stout mask in his ear, returning a hundred sarcasms for one in the mere man- ner with which he accented the monosyllable. Rastignac, who was not a man to bear an insult, stood as if struck by lightning ; then he suffered him- self to be led to the recess of a window by an iron hand, which he felt he was unable to shake off. 44 Young cock, hatched in Mother Vauquer's hen- yard, whose heart failed you in grasping the millions of old Taillefer when the worst of the work was done, let me tell you, for your personal safety, that if you don't behave towards Lucien as to a brother whom you love, you are in our hands while we are not in yours. Silence and obedience, or I'll enter your game and knock over your ninepins. Lucien de Ru- bempre is protected by the greatest power of the present day, the Church. Choose between life and death. Answer me ! " 8 Lucien de Rubempre. Rastignac's brain swam like that of a man sleeping in a forest who wakes to see a lioness beside him. He was afraid, and there were no witnesses ; the most courageous men will yield to fear when that is the case. 44 None but he could know — or dare," he muttered to himself. The mask pressed his hand as if to prevent him from finishing his sentence. 44 Act as if it were he" he said. Rastignac then behaved like a millionnaire on a high- way when a brigand points a pistol at his head; he capitulated. 44 My dear count," he said to du Chatelet, to whom he returned, " if you value your position, treat Lucien de Rubempre as a man whom you will one day see in a much higher place than your own." The mask made an almost imperceptible gesture of satisfaction, and started again on Lucien's traces. 44 My dear fellow, you have rather rapidly changed your opinion about him," replied the prefect, naturally astonished. 44 As rapidly as some of the Centre, who have voted with the Right," replied Rastignac to the prefect-deputy, whose vote had been lacking to the Ministry within a week or two. 44 Are there such things as opinions in these days? " remarked des Lupeaulx, who was listening to them. " What are you discussing?" 44 The Sieur de Rubempre, whom Rastignac wants me to believe is really a personage," said the deputy to the secretary-general. 44 My dear count," replied des Lupeaulx, gravely, Lucien de Bubempre. 9 " Monsieur de Rubempre is a young man of the highest merit ; and so influentially protected that I should con- sider myself very fortunate in being able to renew my acquaintance with him." " He is certain to tumble into the pitfall of the roues of the epoch," said Rastignac. The speakers turned toward a corner where a number of the wits of the day, men more or less celebrated and some of them distinguished, were collected. These gentlemen were contributing their observations, their bon mots, and their malicious wit to the common fund, endeavoring to amuse themselves, or awaiting the advent of some amusement. In this group, which was oddly composed, were a number of men with whom Lucien had formerly had relations, made up of ostensibly good services and concealed evil ones. " Well, Lucien, my boy, my dear fellow ! so here we are, mended and done up as good as new. Where do we come from ? Did we vault upon our new horse by means of the gifts that were sent from Florine's boudoir? Bravo, my boy!" said Blondet, releasing Finot's arm to take Lucien familiarly round the body and press him to his heart. Andoche Finot was the proprietor of a review for which Lucien had once worked almost gratis ; and which Blondet still enriched by the wisdom of his counsels, the depth of hi3 views, and his occasional collaboration. Finot and Blondet personified Bertrand and Raton, — with this difference, that while La Fon- taine's cat only ended by knowing itself duped, Blon- det, knowing it all along, still served Finot. This brilliant free lance of the pen was, in truth, and for 10 Lucien de Rubempre. a long time, a slave. Finot concealed a brutal will beneath a heavy exterior and a sluggish stupidity rubbed with intellect as a ship's biscuit is rubbed with garlic. He knew how to harvest what he gleaned of ideas and money in the broad field of the dissipated life led by men of letters and men in politics. Blondet, to his great misfortune, kept his intellect in the pay of his laziness and his vices. Constantly overtaken by want, he belonged to the poor clan of eminent men who can do much for the good of others, and nothing for their own, — Aladdins who allow their lamps to be borrowed from them. These admirable counsellors have keen and just minds when not dragged away by personal interests. With them it is the heart, and not the arm, which acts. Hence the inconsistencies of their moral sense, and the blame which inferior minds often cast upon them. Blondet would share his purse with the comrade he had wounded the night before ; he would dine, drink, and sleep with another whom he stabbed with his pen the next day. His amusing paradoxes seemed to justify everything. Accepting the whole world as a jest, he did not choose to be taken seriously himself. Young, beloved, almost cele- brated, and happy, he gave no thought, as Finot did, to acquiring the fortune necessary for middle life. The most difficult courage of all is, perhaps, that which Lucien needed at this moment to cut Blondet as he had already cut Madame d'Espard and du Cha- telet. Unhappily, in him the delights of vanity hin- dered the exercise of pride, which is certainly the active principle of many great things. His vanity bad triumphed in the preceding encounter ; he had shown Lucien de Eubempre. 11 himself rich, disdainful, and happy to persons who had formerly disdained him when poor and miserable. But now, could a poet, like an aged diplomatist, rebuff to their faces two self-styled friends, who had helped him in his poverty, and with whom he had consorted in the dark days of his distress ? Like a soldier who does not know when and where to use his courage, Lucien did what many another man in Paris has done ; he compromised himself once more by accepting the shake of Finot's hand, and by not refusing Blondet's caress. Whoever has been or is concerned with jour- nalism is under the cruel necessity of bowing to men whom he despises, of smiling upon his best enemy, of compromising with fetid vileness, and dirtying his fingers in the endeavor to pay his aggressors in their own coin. He gets habituated to seeing evil and letting it pass ; he begins by condoning it, and finally commits it. In course of time the soul, constantly stained by shameful transactions, dwindles ; that instrument of noble thought corrodes, its worn-out hinges turn of themselves. Alceste becomes Philinte, character is enervated, talents degenerate, and faith in noble works takes wing. He who began by taking pride in his own pages spends himself as he goes along in wretched articles which his conscience tells him, sooner or later, are so many wicked actions. He came, like Lousteau, like Vernou, intending to be a great and useful writer, he finds himself an impotent penny-a-liner. Consequently, we cannot too highly honor men who keep their character to the level of their talents, and who, like d'Arthez, know how to walk with unfaltering step among the rocks and reefs of a literary life. 12 Lucien de Rubempre. Lucien found nothing to say in reply to Blondet, whose easy wit always exercised upon hira an irre- sistible fascination, the ascendency of a corrupter over his pupil. Blondet held, moreover, a good posi- tion in society, owing to his intimacy with the Com- tesse de Montcornet. " Have you inherited from an uncle?" asked Gen- eral de Montcornet, jesting. " Like you, I hold folly at arm's length," replied Lucien in the same tone. "Has monsieur set up a review, or some sort of journal?" asked Andoche Finot, with the blustering impertinence of a man who lives on the brains of others. " Better than that," replied Lucien, whose vanity, stung by the superiority assumed by the editor-in-chief, brought him suddenly back to a sense of his new position. u What is it, my dear fellow?" "I have a Cause." "Cause, Lucien?" said Vernou, smiling. u Ah! Finot, you are distanced by this fellow; I always predicted it. Lucien has talent ; you did n't make the most of it ; you let him go to the dogs. Repent, you fat blockhead ! " cried Blondet. Penetrating as musk, Blondet saw more than one secret in Lucien's tone and gesture and manner ; while soothing him, however, he tightened by his words the curb-chain of the bit. He resolved to know the secret of Lucien's return to Paris, his projects, and his means of existence. " Down on your knees before a superiority you can Lucien de Bubempre. 13 never attain, though you are Finot," he continued. " Admit him instantly to the membership of strong men to whom the future belongs ; he 's one of us ! Witty and handsome, is he not bound to succeed by your quibuscumque viisf Behold him here in his strong Milan armor, his doughty dagger half drawn, his banner flying ! Tudieu ! Lucien, where did you steal that pretty waistcoat? Nothing but love can lind such stuffs as that. Have we a home? Just now I 'm anxious to know the addresses of my friends, for I have n't where to lay my head. Finot turned me out to-night on the vulgar pretext of a love affair." "My dear fellow," replied Lucien, "I've put in practice a maxim which is sure to lead to a tranqnil life: Fuge, late, tace! I leave you." "But I don't leave you until you pay me a sacred debt, — that little supper, hein?" said Blondet, who was rather given to good eating and got himself in- vited by his friends when money lacked. "What supper?" asked Lucien, with a gesture of impatience. "You don't remember? By that I recognize the prosperity of a friend, — he loses his memory." " He knows what he owes us ; I '11 guarantee his heart," cried Finot, catching up Blondet's joke. " Rastignac," said Blondet, taking that young man by the arm as soon as he reached the upper end of the foyer near the column around which these so-called friends were grouped, " we are talking of a supper ; will you come? — unless monsieur here," he added, very seriously, motioning to Lucien, " persists in denying a debt of honor. He may possibly do so." 14 Lucien de Rubempre. " Monsieur de Rubempre is incapable of that," said Rastignac, who was thinking of far other matters. 44 Here 's Bixiou ! " cried Blondet, " he '11 come ; nothing is complete without him. Unless he 's at hand, champagne only thickens ray tongue ; every- thing is flat, even the spice of epigrams." 44 My friends," said Bixiou, 44 1 see you all collected round the marvel of the day. Our dear Lucien re- vives Ovid's metamorphoses. Just as the gods changed themselves into remarkable vegetables and other things to seduce women, he has changed his thistle Chardon into a nobleman to seduce, what? Charles X. ! My little Lucien," he went on, catching him by the button of his coat, 44 a journalist who plays the great lord deserves a famous charivari. In their place," added the pitiless jester, pointing to Finot and Vernou, ' 4 I'd cut you up in their paper ; you 'd supply them with columns of jokes which would bring in thousands of francs." 44 Bixiou," said Blondet, 44 amphitryons are sacred twenty-four hours previous and twelve hours subse- quent to the feast, which this illustrious friend of ours is about to give us." 44 Of course, of course," replied Bixiou, 44 besides, what can be more desirable than to save a great name from oblivion and endow an effete aristocracy with a man of talent? Lucien, you have the esteem of the Press, of which you once were the noblest ornament, and we '11 sustain you. Finot, short snapping items in your Paris-column ! Blondet, long-winded, insinu- ating articles on the fourth page of your paper ! Let us announce the publication of the finest book of Lucien de Rubempre. 15 our time, ' The Archer of Charles IX.' and implore Dauriat to give us another edition of • Daisies,' those divine sonnets of our French Petrarch. Let us bear aloft our friend on the buckler of stamped paper which makes and unmakes reputations ! " " If you wish for a supper," said Lucien to Blondet, to get rid of the troop which threatened to increase, " it seems to me you need n't employ hyperbole and parable with an old friend as if he were a ninny. To-morrow evening, at Lointier's," he added hastily, as he saw a masked woman approaching him and sprang forward to meet her. "Oh! oh ! oh!" exclaimed Bixiou, on three notes with a scoffing air, apparently recognizing the woman to whom Lucien had gone, " this needs investigating." And he followed the graceful couple, passed in front and around them, examined them with a searching eye, and returned, to the great satisfaction of the envious group, who were all interested to find out how and why Lucien's luck had changed. " Friends," said Bixiou, " we have known the Sieur de Rubempre's new love for a long time. She is no other than des Lupeaulx's former rat." One of the social corruptions now forgotten, but in fashion at the beginning of this century, was the so- called "rat." A rat (the word is out of date) was a child of ten or twelve years of age, supernumerary of some theatre, more especially the Opera, who was being trained for vice and infamy. A rat was a sort of infernal page, a female gamin, whose lively tricks were usually forgiven. A rat took what she could get ; she was therefore a dangerous animal and to 16 Lucien de Rubempre. be distrusted, though she introduced an element of gayety into life behind the scenes, like that of Sgana- relle, Scapin, and Frontin in the old comedies. But the rat was expensive ; she produced neither honor, nor profit, nor pleasure, and the fashion passed so completely away that few persons knew this secret detail of fashionable life before the Restoration until the time when a few writers laid hold of the rat as a novel subject. " What! is Lucien, after having Coralie killed under him, to ride away with our Torpille 1 too?" said Blondet. Hearing that name, the mask with athletic shoulders made a movement which, though quickly repressed, was seen by Rastignac. ''That's not possible," replied Finot. " La Tor- pille has n't a brass farthing to give him ; she bor- rowed, so Nathan told me, a thousand francs from Florine." " Oh ! messieurs," exclaimed Rastignac, endeavor- ing to defend Lucien against these odious imputations. " Bah ! cried Vernou, " is Coralie's former pensioner too straight-laced ? " " That thousand francs proves to me," said Bixiou, " that our friend Lucien is living with La Torpille." "What an irreparable wrong done to the elite of literature, science, art, and politics ! " said Blondet. " La Torpille is the only prostitute in these days who has the making of a courtesan. Education has never spoiled her ; she can't read and write ; but she 1 Torpille, torpedo, — a fish which gives electric shocks when touched. Lucien de Rubempre. 17 would always have understood us. We might have given to our epoch one of those magnificent Aspasian figures without which there has hitherto been no great century. See how the Dubarry suits the eighteenth ; Ninon de l'Enclos the seventeenth ; Marion de l'Orme the sixteenth; Impe'ria the fifteenth. To Flora be- longs the Roman republic which she made her heir, and which paid its public debt with that inheritance. What would Horace be without Lydia, Tibullus with- out Delia, Catullus without Lesbia, Propertius without Cynthia, Demetrius without Lamia, who is his only glory in these days." " Blondet talking of Demetrius in the foyer of the Opera seems to me rather too much shop," whispered Bixiou to his neighbor. " And without these queens what would the empire of the Caesars have been? " continued Blondet. " Lai's and Rhodope are Greece and Egypt. All are the poesy of the centuries in which they lived. This poesy, which is lacking to Napoleon (for the widow of his Grand army is a barrack jest) is not lacking to the Republic, which had Madame Tallien. And now in France who is there to fill the vacant throne ? All of us here present could have made a queen. I might have given an aunt to la Torpille (for her mother is too authentically dead on the field of dishonor), du Tillet could have provided the mansion, Lousteau a carriage, Rastignac servants, des Lupeaulx a cook, Finot hats " (Finot could not restrain a wince as he received this shaft full in the face), " and Vernou should have puffed her while Bixiou put wit in her mouth. The aristocracy would have flocked to amuse 2 18 Lucien de Rubempre. itself with our Ninon, around whom we would have summoned artists of all descriptions under pain of condemnatory articles. Ninon the Second should have been magnificent in assumption, overwhelming in luxury. She should have had Opinions. Forbidden dramatic masterpieces should have been read at her house ; written expressly for it. She should not have been a liberal, for a courtesan is essentially monarchi- cal. Ah! what a loss, what a loss ! she ought to have kindled a whole century, and she loves one poor, mis- erable young man ! Lucien will break her like a hound ! " " None of the female potentates you mention ever came from the streets," said Finot, " but this little rat has rolled in the gutter." " Yes, like the bulb of a lily in the muck," remarked Vernou, "where it blooms and increases in beauty. There lies her superiority. Must we not know all, to create the laughter and the joy that are derived from all?" 61 He is right," said Lousteau, who until then had listened and observed without speaking. " La Tor- pille knows how to laugh and to create laughter. That science of great writers and great actors belongs to those who have fathomed all social depths ! At eighteen years of age that girl has already known the utmost opulence, the lowest poverty, and men at every stage of life. She holds the magic wand that unchains the passions of men ; she is the salt sung by Rabelais which, if flung upon Matter inspires and lifts it to the marvellous regions of Art ; her robe sheds speechless magnificence ; her fingers drop jewels as her lips Lucien de Bubempre. 19 drop smiles ; she gives to everything the spirit of the occasion ; her jargon sparkles with wit ; she possesses the secret of onomatopoeia to every shade of sound ; she — " " You are losing five francs' worth of feuilleton," said Bixiou, interrupting Lousteau. "La Torpille is infinitely better than all that. You have all been more or less her lovers, but none of you can say she has ever been your mistress ; she can have you at any moment, but you will never have her. You force your way to her and ask her to do you a service — " " Oh, as for that," said Blondet, "she is more gen- erous than a brigand chief in his lucky moments ; and more devoted than the best of college comrades. You can trust her with your purse and your secrets. What made me elect her for the queen of this epoch is her Bourbon indifference to the fallen favorite." " She is like her mother, much too expensive," said des Lupeaulx. " The former would have swallowed up the revenues of the archbishop of Toledo ; she ran through two notaries — " " And fed Maxime de Trailles when he was a page," put in Bixiou. M La Torpille is expensive, like Raffaelle, like Ca- reme, like Taglioni, like Lawrence, like Boule, just as all artists of genius are dear," said Blondet. " But Esther never had that air and manner of a well-bred woman," said Rastignac, motioning to the masked woman who was leaning on Lucien's arm. " I will bet it is Madame de Serizy." "Not a doubt of it, exclaimed du Chatelet, "and that explains Monsieur de Rubempre's prosperity." 20 Lucien de Rubempre. " Ah ! what a pretty secretary to an embassy he will make ! " sneered des Lupeaulx. "And all the more because Lucien is a man of talent," said Rastignac. " These gentlemen have each had more than one proof of that," he added, looking at Blondet, Finot, and Lousteau. " Yes, the lad 's cut out to go far," said Lousteau, who was bursting with jealousy, " and he'll go the farther for having what we call independence of ideas — " " You formed him," said Vernou. M Well," resumed Bixiou, M I appeal to the recol- lections of des Lupeaulx ; I '11 bet a supper that masked woman is La Torpille." " I take the bet," said du Chatelet, who was inter- ested to know the truth. " Come, des Lupeaulx," said Finot, " see if you recognize the ears of your rat." " There 's no need to commit a crime of Use-masque " remarked Bixiou. " Esther and Lucien will pass us presently as they come up the foyer, and 1 '11 engage to prove to you that that is she." ' k So our old friend Lucien has come to the surface, has he? " said Nathan, who just then joined the group. " I thought he had returned to his native Angouleme for the rest of his days. Has he discovered some secret way of escape from duns ? " " He has done what you will not do in a hurry," said Rastignac ; " he has paid his debts." The stout mask nodded his head as* if in assent. M When a man reforms at his age, he often deforms himself," said Nathan. " His boldness and vigor are all gone ; he becomes a capitalist." Lucien de Rulempre. 21 "Well, this one will always be grand seigneur" replied Rastignac ; " there will always be in him a certain height of ideas which will put him above many men who think themselves his superiors." At this moment journalists, idlers, dandies, were all examining, as a jockey examines a horse, the charming object of their bet. These judges, grown old in the knowledge of Parisian depravity, all men of superior mind each in his different way, equally corrupt, equally corrupting, and given over to the service of unbridled ambitions, accustomed to suppose all, to divine all, — these men had their eyes fixed eagerly on the masked woman,-'- a woman who could not be deciphered by any but such as they. They and a few other habitues of the Opera could alone recognize under the shroud of a black domino, under the hood and the falling cape, which make all women look alike, the outline of the form, the peculiarities of carriage and gait, the movement of the figure, the poise of the head, — things the least perceptible to common eyes, but to theirs quite easy to perceive. In spite of the shapeless garment, they were able to recognize the most moving of all sights, — that which presents itself to the eye when we see a woman ani- mated by a real, true love. Whether it were La Tor- pille, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, or Madame de Serizy, the lowest or the highest rung of the social ladder, this creature was an adorable creation, the flash of all happy dreams. These old young men, as well as certain young old ones, were conscious of so keen a sensation that they envied Lucien the sublime privilege of transforming that woman to a goddess. 22 Lucien de Rubempre. She was there as though she were alone with Lucien ; to her there were no ten thousand persons present, there was no heavy atmosphere thick with dust ; she was iso- lated beneath the celestial vault of Love as Raffaelle's madonnas beneath their golden halos. She felt no pressure of the crowd; her eyes flamed through the fissures of her mask, and fixed themselves on Lucien ; the quivering of her whole person seemed to respond to the movements of her beloved. Whence comes that flame which shines about a loving woman and singles her from every other? Whence that sylph-like buoy- ancy which seems to change the laws of weight ? Is it the soul escaping? Can happiness possess some phys- ical efficacy? The graces of childhood, of virgin inno- cence, were visible behind that domino. Though parted and walking, these two beings were like the groups of Flora and Zephyrus entwined, as we see them, by dis- tinguished sculptors ; but here was something more than sculpture, that grandest of arts. Lucien and his domino recalled those angels playing with birds and flowers, such as Gian- Bellini has painted beneath the portraits of the Virgin-Mother ; Lucien and this woman belonged to Fantasy, which is higher than Art as cause is higher than effect. When this woman, oblivious of all, came within a step of the watching group, Bixiou cried out, " Esther ! " The unfortunate creature turned her head quickly, as persons do when they hear themselves called, recognized the malicious querist, and dropped her head on her breast, as the head of the dying falls when the last breath leaves it. A jarring laugh broke from the group of men, who dispersed into the crowd Lucien de Eubempre. '23 like mice making for their holes. Rastignac alone re- mained, that he might not seem to fly before Lucien's flaming glance. He saw before him two sorrows, equally profound, though veiled, — that of the poor Torpille, struck down as by a thunderbolt ; that of the strange, incomprehensible mask, the only remain- ing person of the late group. Esther said a word in Lucien's ear as her knees gave way under her, and Lucien, supporting her on his arm, disappeared with her. Rastignac followed the pair with his eye, stand- ing lost in reflection. " How did she get the name of Torpille?" said a sombre voice, which struck to his very vitals, for it was not disguised. "It is he, indeed, — escaped again!" murmured Rastignac to himself. " Silence ! or I strangle you," said the mask, in another voice. "I am satisfied with you; 3 T ou have kept your word, and more than one arm is now at your service. Henceforth be dumb as the grave ; but, before being silent forever, answer my question." " Well, the girl is so magnetic that she might have laid her benumbing spell on the Emperor Napoleon, as she will on some one more difficult to allure — you ! " replied Rastignac, moving away. "One moment," said the mask. " I wish to prove to you that you have never seen me." The man unmasked. Rastignac hesitated a moment, seeing no sign of the repellent personage he had for- merly known in the Maison Vauquer, then he said : — "The devil has enabled you to change everything about you except your eyes, which can never be for- gotten." 24 ' Lucien de Rubempre. An iron hand compressed his arm as if to warn him to eternal silence. At three in the morning des Lupeaulx and Finot found Rastignac leaning against a column at the place where the terrible mask had left him. He had con- fessed his soul to himself ; he had been priest and penitent, judge and criminal. He allowed them to take him away to breakfast, and returned home completely drunk, but taciturn. Lucien de Rubempre. 25 IL LA TORPILLE. The rue de Langlade, like the adjacent streets, dis- figures the Palais-Royal and the rue de Rivoli. This part of one of the most brilliant quarters of Paris re- tained for a long time the pollution left by the mounds of filth and rubbish of the old city on which there were formerly windmills. These narrow streets, dark and muddy, where various slovenly industries are carried on, present at night a mysterious physiognomy that is full of contrasts. Coining from the lighted regions of the rue Saint-Honore, the rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs, and the rue de Richelieu, incessantly crowded and brilliant with the masterpieces of Industry, Fashion, and Art, any man to whom the Paris of the night-time is unknown would be seized with gloomy terror if he entered the network of little streets encircled by that light reflected on the skies. Black shadows succeed the glare of gas. At long distances a pale oil-lamp casts an uncertain smoky gleam, which does not reach into certain dark and dismal alleys. Those who pass through this region — and they are few — hurry on. The shops are mostly closed ; the ones that are open are of bad character, — either dirty, ill-lighted wine-shops, or those of low milliners, where cologne is sold. Unwholesome chills lay their damp mantle on 26 Lucien de Eubempre. your shoulders. Few carriages go by. Ominous an- gles meet the eye, among which can be distinguished that of the rue de Langlade, the opening to the passage Saint-Guillaume, and several other dark corners. The municipal council has never succeeded in cleans- ing this great plague-spot, where prostitution has long established its headquarters. Perhaps it is as well for the Parisian world to leave to these narrow streets their loathsome aspect. Passing through them in the day-time no one would imagine what they are by night. Then they are lined with fantastic beings of no world but their own ; white, half-naked figures lean against the walls ; the shadows become ani- mated. Between the walls and the passers along the street, glide costumes which talk and walk. Some half-open doors laugh loudly. Words which Rabe- lais declares to be frozen, and which are melting, fall upon the ear. Scraps of song rise between the paving- stones. The noise is not vague ; it signifies some- thing. When it is hoarse and strident it is a voice ; but when it resembles a song there is nothing human in it ; it is more like hissing ; it is sibilant. The tapping of boot-heels has something, I know not what, provocative and mocking. This confused mass of things turns the brain. Atmospheric conditions are upset; one is hot in winter and cold in summer. But, whatever the weather be, this strange nature offers ever the same spectacle : the fantastic world of Hoff- mann is there. The most matter-of-fact book-keeper would find nothing real after crossing the narrow de- files which lead from decent streets where there are passers and shops and lamps. More indifferent or Lucien de Rubempre. 27 more shame-faced than the queens and kings of a past time, who did not fear to concern themselves with courtesans, present administrations or modern policy dare not face the question of this open sore of capitals. Certainly, measures must change with the times ; and those which handle individuals and their liberty are delicate ; but boldness and decision might be shown on purely material points, such as air, light, and condition of premises. The moralist, the artist, and the wise administrator will regret the demolition of Galeries de Bois of the Palais-Royal, where were penned those lambs who will always come where loungers congregate. What has been the result? To- day, the most brilliant parts of the boulevards, that enchanting promenade, are interdicted in the evening to families. The police have not profited by the re- source offered in certain passages, to protect the public thoroughfares. The girl crushed by the sound of her name at the masked ball had lived, for the last month or two, in a squalid-looking house in the rue de Langlade. Propped against the wall of an enormous edifice, this building, ill-plastered, shallow, and of prodigious height, is lighted from the street only, and resembles nothing so much as a parrot's perch. A couple of rooms are on each floor, and no more. They are reached by a slender stairwaj 7 clinging to the wall and curiously lighted by sashes which show to those with- out the railing of the stairs, — each landing being indicated by a sink-drain, one of the most horrible peculiarities of -Paris. The shop and the lower floor were occupied just then by a tin-smith ; the owner of 28 Lucien de Rubempre. the property lived on the floor above, and the remain- ing four stories were hired by decent grisettes who received a good deal of consideration and some conces- sions from the proprietor and the portress on account of the difficulty of letting a house so strangely built and situated. The uses to which this quarter was put is explained by the existence of several other houses built in the same way, which are not serviceable for business, and can only be profitably used for secret, precarious, and questionable purposes. About three in the afternoon, the portress who had seen Mademoiselle Esther brought home in a fainting condition by a young man at two in the morning, took counsel with the grisette who lived on the floor above, and who, before driving off in a carriage on a pleasure excursion, had expressed her uneasiness to the portress about Esther, whom she had not heard stirring as usual all the morning. Esther was doubtless asleep, but the sleep seemed suspicious. Being alone in the lodge the portress was unable to go up and inquire what was happening on the fourth story, where Esther lodged. She began to feel anxious, and was just about to confide the care of the lodge (a sort of niche scooped in the wall of the lower floor) to the son of the tinsmith, when a hackney-coach stopped at the door. A man wrapped in a cloak from head to foot, with the evident intention of hiding his dress or his quality, got out, and asked for Mademoiselle Esther. The portress felt reassured at once ; the silence and quietude were fully accounted for. As the visitor passed up the stairs above the lodge the portress noticed the silver buckles that were on his shoes, and she fancied she saw the Lucien de Bubempre. 29 fringe of the belt of a cassock. She went down to the street and questioned the driver, who answered without words, but the portress understood him. The priest knocked, received no answer, heard low sighs, and forced the door with his shoulder, with a strength given to him, no doubt, by charity, though in another man it might have been thought habit. He went hastily into the second room, and there saw, be- fore a figure of the Virgin in colored plaster, poor Esther kneeling, or rather crouching down upon her- self, with her hands clasped. She was dying. A brasier of lighted charcoal told the story of that dreadful morning. The hood and mantle of her domino lay on the floor. The bed had not been oc- cupied. The poor creature, struck to the heart by a mortal wound, had doubtless made her preparations on returning from the Opera. An end of candle- wick remaining in the cup of a candlestick showed how lost she had been in her last reflections. A handkerchief, wet with tears, attested the sincerity of the Magdalen's despair. This visible repentance brought a smile to the priest's face. Ignorant of how to destroy herself, Esther had left the inner door open, unaware that the air of the two rooms needed more charcoal to make it unbreathable ; the fumes had merely stupefied her; the fresh air coming in from the staircase brought her back by degrees to the sense of her misery. The priest stood still, lost in gloomy meditation, unaffected by the divine beauty of the girl, watching her first movements as if she had been some animal. His eyes roved from this crouching body to the 30 Lucien de Rubempre. objects about the chamber with apparent indifference. He looked at the furniture of the room, the red-tiled floor of which was barely hidden by a threadbare carpet. A small painted wooden bedstead of an old pattern, hung with yellow cotton curtains fastened back with red rosettes ; one armchair and two com- mon chairs of the same painted wood and covered with the same cotton which also supplied the curtains for the windows ; a gray paper dotted with flowers now blackened by time and grease ; a mahogany work- table ; a fireplace encumbered with cooking utensils of the commonest description ; two bundles of firewood, one half used ; a stone chimney-piece on which were pieces of glass-ware mixed with jewels, scissors, a dirty pin-cushion, white and perfumed gloves ; a charming bonnet thrown on the water pitcher ; a Ternaux shawl used to darken the window ; an elegant dress hanging from a nail ; a little sofa, hard, without cushions ; shabby broken clogs, delicate little slippers and dainty, fit for a queen ; common earthen-ware plates chipped and cracked, on which lay the remnants of the last meal, and forks and spoons of German silver (the plate of the poor of Paris), a basket of potatoes and a pile of soiled linen, above which hung the fresh, crisp cap of a grisette; a miserable wardrobe, open and empty, on the shelf of which lay a pile of pawn- tickets, — such was the strange collection of things lugubrious and things joyous, miserable and opulent, which met the eye. These vestiges of luxury in the midst of dilapidation ; this home so suggestive of the Bohemianism of the girl lying there in her huddled clothing, like a horse lying dead in his harness under Lucien de Rubempre. 31 broken shafts, — did this strange spectacle make the priest reflect? Did he say to himself that this mis- guided creature must be disinterested to couple such poverty with the love of a rich young man ? Did he attribute the disorder of that room to the disorder of her life? Did he feel pity, or horror? Was his charity stirred? Whoso had seen him, with crossed arms and sombre brow, his lips contracted, his eye hard, would have thought him absorbed in feelings of hatred, in reflections that thwarted him, in projects of sinister import. He was, assuredly, insensible to the beauty of the rounded form of that crouching Venus as it showed beneath the black of her skirt. The drooping head, which, gave to view as she lay there the nape of the white, soft, flexible neck, the beautiful shoulders of a well developed physical nature, did not move him. He made no effort to raise her ; he seemed not to hear the gasping breath which told of returning life ; not until she gave one horrible sob and cast a terrified glance upon him did he deign to lift her and carry her to the bed, — with an ease which proved his enormous strength. " Lucien ! " she murmured. " Love returns, the woman follows," said the priest to himself, with a sort of bitterness. The victim of Parisian depravity now took notice of the dress of her liberator, and said, with the smile of a child that lays its hand on a coveted object, *'« I shall not die without Heaven's pardon." " You can live to expiate your sins," said the priest, moistening her forehead with water, and making her smell a flask of vinegar he found on the chimney-piece. 32 Lucien de Rubempre. 44 I feel that life, instead of leaving me, is flowing back," she said, expressing her gratitude for this care by charming natural gestures. This winning panto- mime, which the Graces themselves might have used to allure, justified the popular name of this strange girl. 44 Do you feel better?" asked the priest, giving her a glass of sugared water. He seemed to know the ways of such abodes ; he moved about as though the place were his. This priv- ilege of feeling everywhere at home belongs only to kings, prostitutes, and robbers. 4i When you have quite recovered," said the priest, after a pause, " you will confess to me the reasons which led you to commit this final crime of suicide." M My history is very simple," she answered. " Three months ago I was living in the vice to which I was born. I was the worst of creatures, the most infa- mous ; now I am only the most wretched. I cannot speak to you of my mother, who was murdered — " 44 By a captain in a suspected house," said the priest, interrupting his penitent. 44 I know your origin ; I am aware that if a person of your sex can ever be excused for leading a shameful life it is you, who have never known a good example." " Alas ! " she said, " I was never baptized or taught religion." 44 All is not yet irreparable," replied the priest, 44 provided that } T our faith, your repentance, are sin- cere and without reservations." 44 Lucien and God now fill my heart," she said, simply. Lucien de Bubempre. 33 " You should have said 4 God and Lucien,' " replied the priest, smiling. " You remind me of the object of my visit. Relate to me everything concerning that young man." " Do you come from him?" she asked, with a loving expression which would have touched any other priest. " Oh ! he suspected what I would do ! " " No," replied the priest, "it is not your death, it is your life about which we are concerned. Come, explain to me your relations." The poor girl trembled at the rough tone of the ecclesiastic, but she trembled like a woman whom brutality could not surprise. " Lucien is Lucien," she said, — " the handsomest young man and the best of living beings ; but if you know him, my love must seem natural to you. I met him by chance three months ago, at the Porte-Saint- Martin, where I had gone on one of my days out ; for we always had one day in the week at Madame Mey- nardie's, where I lived. The next day I left without permission. Love had entered my heart, and had so changed me that when I returned from the theatre I did not know myself ; I felt a horror for myself. Never has Lucien known what I have been. Instead of telling him where I lived I gave him the address of these lodgings, which a friend gave up to me. I give you my sacred word — " " Do not swear." "Is it swearing to give my sacred word? Well, then, since that day I have worked in this room mak- ing shirts at twenty-eight sous apiece that I might live by honest work. For a month I ate nothing but 3 34 Lucien de Rubempre. potatoes, to stay virtuous and worthy of Lucien, who loves me and respects me as the most innocent of the innocent. I have made my declaration in form to the police to recover my legal rights, and I have put my- self under two years' surveillance. They who are so ready to inscribe us on the registers of infamy make every difficulty before they will scratch us off. All I prayed for was that Heaven would strengthen my reso- lution. I shall be nineteen in April ; there 's hope at that age. It seems to me that I was only born three months ago. I prayed to God every morning, and begged him to grant that Lucien might never know my former life. I bought that Virgin you see there ; I pray to her as best I can, for I don't know any prayers. I don't even know how to read or write ; I have never entered a church, and I 've never seen the good God except in processions, out of curiosity." M What do you say to the Virgin?" "I speak to her as I do to Lucien, with outbursts from my soul that make him weep." " Ah ! he weeps?" M With joy," she said, eagerly. u Poor darling! we understand each other so well that we have but one soul. He is so gentle, so caressing, so sweet of heart, of mind, of manners. He says he is a poet ; but I say he is a god. Ah, forgive me ! but you priests, you don't know what love is. There 's none but us who know men well enough to judge what Lucien is. A Lucien is as rare as a woman without sin ; when we meet him we can do nothing else but love him — there ! So I wanted to be worthy of being loved by my Lucien ; there lies my misery. Last night, at the Opera, I was Lucien de Bubempre. 35 recognized by some young men who have no more heart than a tiger has pity ; I could manage a tiger. My veil of innocence fell from me ; their laughs cut to my head and heart. Do not think that you have saved me ; I shall die of grief." " Your veil of innocence ? " said the priest. "Then you have treated Lucien with the utmost rigor?" "Oh, father, you who know him, how can you ask me that question? Who shall resist a god?" " Do not blaspheme," said the ecclesiastic, in a gen- tler voice. " No man resembles God. Such exagger- ation ill becomes a veritable love. You do not love your idol with a pure and true love. If you had really experienced the change you boast of, you would have acquired those virtues which are the attributes of youth and innocence ; you would know the delights of chas- tity, the delicacies of female modesty, — those glories of a young girl. You do not love." Esther made a gesture of terror, which the priest saw; but it did not shake the impassibility of a confessor. " Yes, you love for yourself, and not for him, — for the temporal pleasures which charm you, not for love's sake in itself. If you take love so, you are devoid of that sacred tremor inspired by a being on whom God has laid the seal of adorable perfections. Have you reflected that you degrade Lucien by your past impurity ; that you corrupt his youth by those appal- ling delights which have given you your name of in- famy? You have been inconsistent with yourself in this passion of a day." " Of a day ! " she said, raising her eyes. 36 Lucien de Rubempre . " By what name do you call a love which is not eternal ; which can never unite us in the Christian's future with the one we love?" " Ah, I want to be a Christian ! " she cried, in a muffled, violent tone, which must have won for her the mercy of our Saviour. 44 Is a girl who has never received the baptism of the Church, nor that of knowledge, who can neither read nor write nor pray, who cannot take one step without the very pavements rising up to accuse her, — a girl remarkable only for the fugitive privilege of a beauty which disease may take away from her to- morrow ; is it this creature, disgraced, degraded, and who knows her degradation (ignorant and less loving you might have been more excusable), — is it this fu- ture prey of suicide and hell who is fit to be the wife of Lucien de Rubempre ? " Each sentence was the thrust of a dagger to the depths of her heart. At each sentence the swelling sobs, the flowing tears of the despairing creature proved the force with which light was entering into a mind as untutored as that of a savage ; into a soul at last awakened ; into a nature upon which depravity had spread a layer of muddy ice, now melting in the sun of truth. " Why did I not die ! " was the sole idea that she uttered from the midst of the torrent of ideas which streamed through her brain and ravaged it. " Daughter," said the terrible judge, u there is a love which is never confessed before men, the aspira- tions of which are received by the angels with smiles of joy." Lucien de Bubempre. 37 "What love?" " Love without hope when it inspires the life, when it puts into life the principle of self-sacrifice, when it ennobles all acts by the. desire of attaining to ideal perfection. Yes, the angels rejoice in that love, for it leads to a knowledge of God. To strive for perfection that you may be worthy of him you love ; to make a thousand secret sacrifices for him ; to adore him from afar ; to give drop by drop your blood ; to immolate to him your self-love ; to have no pride or anger toward him ; to spare him even the knowledge of the jealousy he rouses in the heart ; to give him all he wishes, be it to-our own detriment ; to love what he loves ; to have our face turned ever to him that we may follow him without his knowledge, — such love Heaven would have pardoned you ; it offends neither divine nor human laws ; it leads to other paths than your vile pleasures." As she listened to this dreadful sentence (and in what tones was it uttered !) Esther was seized with a not unnatural mistrust. The words were like the thunder-clap that precedes a storm. She looked at the priest ; her entrails were wrung by that awful grip which seizes the most courageous in face of sudden and imminent danger. No glance could read what was then passing in the soul of that man, but the boldest would have knowm there was more to fear than to hope in the aspect of his eyes, — formerly clear and yellow as those of tigers, but on which austerities or privations had thrown a mist like that we see on far horizons in the dog-days, when the earth is hot and luminous but so vaporous that it becomes almost invisible. Deep folds of the flesh, to which countless pits of the small- 38 Lucien de Rubemprc. pox gave an appearance of ragged ruts, ploughed up the sallow skin which seemed to have been baked by the sun. The harshness of this countenance came out the more because it was framed by the neglected wig of a priest who cares no longer for his person, — a dilapidated wig of a rusty black in the sunshine. His athletic chest, his hands like those of an old veteran, his powerful torso and strong shoulders resembled those of the caryatides which artists of the middle ages em- ployed in certain Italian palaces, an imperfect repro- duction of which may be seen in the facade of the theatre of the Porte-Saiut-Martin. The least clear-sighted person would have thought that hot passions or uncommon events had cast this man into the bosom of the Church. Certainly, some awful thunderbolt could alone have changed him — if indeed such a being is susceptible of change. Women who have led the life now so violently repudi- ated by Esther soon reach an absolute indifference to the external form of men. They are like the literary critic of the present day, who may, under certain aspects, be compared with them, for he reaches, after a while, a profound indifference to the formulas of art. He has read so many books ; he sees so many come and go ; he has so accustomed himself to written pages ; he has endured so many plots, seen so many dramas, made so many articles without saying what he thought ; betrayed so often the cause of art in favor of his friendships and his enmities, — that he reaches at last a stage of disgust for all things, though he goes on judging nevertheless. It needs a miracle to make that man produce real work, — just as a pure Lucien de Bubempre. 39 and noble love can only dawn through a miracle in the heart of a courtesan. The tone and manners of this priest, who seemed to have stepped out of a canvas of Zurburan, appeared so hostile to the poor girl, to whom outward appear- ance was of no consequence, that she fancied herself less the object of his solicitude than the necessary in- strument of some plan. Without being able to mentally distinguish between the arguments of self-interest and the unction of charity (for we must be on the watch indeed to detect the false coin that is given by a friend) , she instinctively felt herself in the talons of some mon- strous and ferocious bird of prey, swooping down upon her after circling for a time in the air. In her terror, she said in a piteous voice : "I thought that priests were meant to comfort us, but you torture me." At this cry of anguish the priest made a gesture and paused ; he collected himself before replying. During that moment these two persons so singularly brought together examined each other furtively. The priest understood the woman, but the woman could not un- derstand the priest. During that pause he must have renounced some plan which threatened poor Esther, and returned to his first intentions. " We are physicians of the soul," he said in a gentle voice ; u we know what remedies are needed for its ills." " Much should be forgiven to misery," said Esther. She thought she had been mistaken, and so thinking, she slid from her bed and knelt at the feet of that man, kissed his cassock in deep humility, and raised her eyes bathed in tears to his face. 40 Lucien de Bubempre. " I thought I had done much," she said. " Listen, my daughter ; your fatal reputation has plunged Lucien's family into mourning. They fear, with some justice, that you will entice him to dissipa- tion, to reckless follies — " " True, true," she said ; "it was I who took him to the ball last night — " " You are beautiful enough to make him wish to exhibit you before the eyes of the world ; he would take pride in showing you, as he would a fine riding- horse. If only his money were spent upon 3 t ou, — but he will spend his time, his strength ; he will become indifferent to the noble prospects preparing for him. Instead of being — as he can be some day — an am- bassador, rich, admired, famous, he will become like so many other debauched men who have drowned their talents in the mud of Paris for the love of an impure woman. As for you, sooner or later, you would re- turn to your former life, having risen for a moment only to a higher sphere, for yon have not in j t ou that inner strength given by education to resist vice and think of the future. You have no more really parted from your former companions than you have from those young men who shamed you at the Opera last night. Lucien's true friends, alarmed at the love you have inspired in him, have followed his steps and have learned all. Full of anxiety, they have sent me here to you to learn your intentions and decide your fate ; for while they are powerful enough to remove this ob- stacle to the young man's career, they are also merciful. Know this, my daughter : a woman beloved by Lucien has claims to their respect ; the true Christian wor- Lucien de Ruhempre. 41 ships the mire upon which by chance the divine light shines. I have come here as the agent of their benev- olent thoughts. Had I found you wholly wicked, bold, crafty, corrupt to the marrow of your bones, and deaf to the voice of repentance, I should have abandoned you to their just anger. The liberation, civil and po- litical, which you say you have found so difficult to obtain, — and which the police do right to withhold in the interests of Society itself, — the release, which I have just heard you long for with the earnestness of true repentance, is here," said the priest, drawing from his belt an official paper. " You applied only yester- day, and this paper is dated to-day. Judge from that how powerful are the persons who watch over Lucien's interests." At sight of that paper the convulsive tremblings of an unexpected joy shook poor Esther, and overcame her so ingenuously that a fixed smile rested on her lips like that of idiocy. The priest paused, looked atten- tively at the girl to see if, when deprived of the hor- rible strength which such corrupted creatures gain from their corruption itself, and returned to her frail and delicate primitive nature, she could bear the strain of so many impressions. As a courtesan Esther could have played the comedy ; but restored to innocence and truth she mightvdie of it, — just as a blind man ope- rated upon has been known to lose his recovered sight by the too rapid admission of the daylight. The priest saw at this moment human nature to its depths ; but he remained in a calmness that was awful from its fixity. He stood there a cold alp, white, and reaching to the skies ; lofty, inalterable, with granite sides, and 42 Zucien de Eubempre. yet beneficent. Prostitutes are beings essentially fitful, who pass without reason from the most dogged distrust to unlimited confidence ; in this respect, they are lower than animals. Extreme in everything, in their joy and their despair, their religion and their irreligion, most of them would eventually become insane were it not for the decimating mortality which is peculiar to them, and the few happy chances which raise some few among them from the slough in which they live. To penetrate the misery of that dreadful life, one must have seen how far the poor creatures can go into madness without remaining there ; and the violent ecstasy of La Torpille kneeling at the priest's feet may give some idea of it. She looked at the liberating paper with an expression forgotten by Dante, for it surpassed the revelations of the Inferno. But reaction came with her tears. Esther rose, cast her arms around the priest's neck, laid her head upon his breast, kissing the coarse cloth that covered that heart of steel as though she would force her way to it. She seized his hands and kissed them ; she used, unconsciously, in the fervor of her gratitude, the cajolery of ca- resses, lavishing sweet names upon him, and crying out, amid these honeyed sentences, "Give it to me! Give it to me ! Give it to me ! " with a hundred differ- ent intonations. She happed him with her tenderness ; she held him by her eyes with an eagerness that left him no defence, until at last she benumbed his anger. The priest knew then how and why she had obtained her name. He comprehended how impossible it was to withstand the love of such a being ; he divined Lucien's love, and all that had seduced the poet in him. Lucien de Bubempre. 43 Such a passion hides, amid a thousand charms, a barbed hook which fastens, above all, upon the soul of an artist. These passions, inexplicable to the many, are perfectly explained by the thirst for the beau ideal which distinguishes creative beings. Is it not creat- ing to purify such a creature? What enticement it offers to bring moral beauty and physical beauty into harmony ! What joy of pride if successful ! What a noble task is that which has no instrument but love ! These alliances, illustrated in the lives of Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Alcibiades, Pompey, and so monstrous in the eyes of the many, are founded on the same sen- timent as that which led Louis XIV. to build Versailles ; which drives men into ruinous enterprises, converts miasmatic swamps into flowery mounds surrounded by flowing waters, puts lakes at the top of hills, as did the Prince de Conti at Nointel, or transports Swiss scenery to Cassan, as did Bergeret the farmer-general. It is Art making irruption into the domain of Morals. The priest, ashamed of having yielded to any gen- tleness, pushed the girl hastily away. She sat down, mortified, for he said, harshly, "You are a courtesan, and will always be one." Then he replaced the letter in his belt. Like a child, which has but one desire in its head, Esther never ceased to gaze at the place in the belt where the paper lay. " My child," said the priest, after a pause, "your mother was a Jewess, and you have never been bap- tized ; but neither have 3'ou ever been taken to the synagogue. You are in the religious limbo of a little child — " 44 Lucien de Rubempre. " A little child ! " she said, softly. " Just as you are a mere number on the registers of the police, outside of all other social beings," contin- ued the impassible priest. " If love, seen by a snatch of fancy, made you believe three months ago that you were born again, you must surely feel that since that day you are still in childhood. You must let yourself be guided as though you were indeed a child ; you must change yourself wholly, and I will take upon me to make you unrecognizable. But, first, you must forget Lucien." The poor girl's heart was broken by the sentence ; she raised her eyes to the priest and made a sign of negation ; she was incapable of speech, perceiving once more the executioner in the deliverer. " You must renounce the sight of him, at least," he continued. " I shall place you in a religious establish- ment where young girls of the best families receive their education. You will become a Catholic, and you will be instructed in the practice of Christian duty ; you will learn religion. After that you will leave the place a virtuous young girl, chaste, pure, and well trained, if — " He paused and raised his finger. *' If," he resumed, "you feel the strength to leave behind you, here, the Torpille." " Ah ! " cried the poor thing, to whom each word had seemed like a note of music, at the sound of which the gates of Paradise were slowly opening. "Ah ! if it were only possible to pour out, here, all my blood and take another — " " Listen to me." Lucien de Bubempre. 45 She was silent. " Your future depends on your power of forgetting. Reflect on the obligations you will have upon you. One word, one gesture that betrays the Torpille puts an end forever to your being Lucien's wife ; a word said in a dream, an involuntary thought, an immodest look, an impatient motion, a recollection of the past, a sign of the head which reveals what you know or what others have known to your disgrace — " " Ah, father!" cried the girl with sacred enthusi- asm, "to walk on red-hot iron and smile, to wear a corset armed with spikes and dance, to eat my bread mingled with ashes, and drink wormwood, all, all would be sweet, easy ! " She fell again on her knees and kissed his shoes, her tears moistened them ; she clung to his legs, murmur- ing senseless words amid the tears that joy had brought. Her beautiful fair hair lay like a carpet at the feet of this celestial messenger ; then, rising, she looked at him and saw how hard and stern he was. "Have I offended you?" she said, all trembling. " I have heard of a woman like me who washed the feet of Jesus Christ with perfumes. Alas ! virtue has made me poor ; I have only tears to give." " Did you not hear me?" he replied in a cruel voice. "I told you that you must leave the house where I shall now place you so changed physically and morally that none who ever knew you can call .< Esther,' to your shame. Last night, the love you boast of 'had not given you the power to bury the prostitute so that she could never reappear ; no other worship than ttyat of God will hide her forever." 46 Lucien de Rubempre. " God has sent you to me," she said. " If, during your education, Lucien discovers you, all is lost," he resumed ; " remember that." 44 Who will console him?" she whispered. " For what have you ever consoled him ? " asked the priest, in a voice through which, for the first time, was heard a tremor. " I do not know," she answered, " but he is often sad." 44 Sad ! " repeated the priest ; " has he not told you why?" 44 Never," she said. 44 He is sad because he loves a creature like you," he cried. 44 Alas! he may well be," she answered" with deep humility. 44 1 am the most despicable creature of my sex ; I could only find favor in his eyes by the force of my love." 44 That love should give you courage to obey me blindly. If I took you immediately to the house where your education will be given to you, all the people here would tell Lucien that you had gone with a priest, and he might trace you. Therefore, this day week, after my visit is forgotten, leave the house alone at seven in the evening, and enter a hackney-coach, which I will send to the corner of the rue des Frondeurs. During this week avoid seeing Lucien ; find some pre- text to keep him away ; but if he comes, go to a friend's room. I shall know if you see him. If you do, all is at an end ; you will not see me again. You will need these eight days to give you a decent outfit," he added, laying a purse upon the table. " In your air, Lucien de Bubempre. 47 in your clothes, there is that unspeakable something so well known to all Parisians which reveals what you have been. Have you never met in the streets or on the boulevards a modest, virtuous young girl walking with her mother ? " " Yes, to my sorrow ! The sight of a mother with her daughter is the greatest of our punishments ; it stirs the remorse which is lurking in our minds. It tortures us. I know but too well what is needful for me." " Very good ; then you know how you ought to look on Sunday next," said the priest, rising. " Oh, wait," she said ; " teach me a real prayer be- fore you go, — that I may pray to God." It was a moving thing to see the priest teaching the unfortunate girl to say the Lord's Prayer aud the u Hail, Mary " iu her own language. 4 1 It is very beautiful," said Esther, when she had at last repeated without a blunder those two magnificent and well-known expressions of catholic faith. " What is your name?" she said to the priest as he bade her adieu. " Carlos Herrera," he replied. " I am a Spaniard, banished from my country." Esther took his hand and kissed it. She was no longer a courtesan, but an angel rising from her fall. 48 Lucien de Bubemjpre. III. AN INTERIOR AS WELL KNOWN TO SOME AS UNKNOWN TO OTHERS. In an institution celebrated for the religious and aristocratic education which is there given to young girls, on a Monday morning early in the month of March, the pupils noticed that their charming ranks were increased by the presence of a new-comer, whose beauty triumphed without gainsaying, not merely over that of her companions, but over the particular beau- ties that were perfect in each. In France it is ex- tremely rare, not to say impossible, to meet with the thirty famous perfections described in Persian verse, and carved, it is said, on the walls of the harems, — thirty perfections which are necessary to a woman before she can be accounted as absolutely beautiful. As for the imposing collection of beauties which sculp- ture endeavors to render, and which she has rendered in a few rare instances, like the Diana and the Venus Callipyge, it is the privileged possession of Greece and Asia Minor. Esther came from that cradle of the human race, the native land of beauty ; her mother was a Jewess. The Jews, though so often deteriorated by contact with other peoples, show among their various tribes strata, or veins, through which is still preserved the Zucien de Eubempre. 49 splendid type of Asiatic beauty. Esther could have won the prize in a seraglio ; she possessed the thirty beauties harmoniously blended. Far from doing injury to the finish of her form and the freshness of its envel- ope, her peculiar life had communicated to her a name- less something of the woman, — a something that is no longer the smooth closed bud, or unripe fruit, nor has it yet the warm and glowing tones of maturity ; the flower is still there. A few months more spent in dis- sipation and she might have been too plump. This richness of health, this perfection of animal life in a creature to whom physical pleasure stood in place of thought, ought to be an important fact to the eyes of physiologists. By a rare, not to say impossible, circumstance in very young girls, her hands, which were incomparably noble, were soft, transparent, and white as those of a woman on the birth of her second child. She had precisely the feet and hair so justly celebrated in the Duchesse de Berry, — hair which no coiffeur's hand could hold, so abundant was it, and so long that when it fell to the ground it lay there in circles ; for Esther was of that medium height which allows a woman to be a sort of plaything, to be lifted, and even carried without fatigue. Her skin, delicate as rice-paper, of a warm amber-color, with rosy veins, shone without being dry, and was soft without moisture. Vigorous to excess, yet delicate in appearance, Esther attracted immediate attention by a trait remarkable in the fig- ures which Raffaelle has more artistically outlined than other masters, for Raffaelle is the painter who has studied most and rendered best the Jewish beauty. 4 50 Lucien de BubemprJ. This wonderful trait was produced by the depth of the space below the brow, in which the eye revolved as if detached from its setting, and the curve of which, clearly defined, was like the outline of an arch. When youth adorns with its pure and diaphanous tints this beautiful curve, surmounted by eyebrows the spring of which is imperceptible ; when light, gliding along that inner circle, takes a pale rose tint, there are treasures of tenderness lying there to content a lover, and be the despair of Art. These luminous folds, in which the shadows take golden tints, this tissue, which possesses the consistence of a nerve and the flexibility of a deli- cate membrane, are Nature's highest effort. The eye in repose lies there like some miraculous egg on a couch of silken fibres. But later in life this marvel turns to awful melancholy, — when passions have charred those supple outlines, when sorrows have wrinkled that nest of fibres. Esther's origin was plainly seen in this oriental placing of her eyes, which were fringed with Turkish lashes ; their color was the gray of slate, changing in a strong light to the blue-black tint of a raven's wing. The extreme tenderness of her glance could alone soften the dazzling light of it. It is only the races which have come from deserts that possess in the eye the power of fascination over every one, — for all women can fascinate some one. Their eyes retain, no doubt, something of the infinite their race has con- templated. Did Nature, with her foresight, furnish their retinas with some reflector to enable them to bear the dazzle of the sand, the floods of sunlight, the hot cobalt of the ether? Do human beings take, like other Lucien de Bubempre. 51 creations, something from the centres on which they develop and keep through centuries and eras that which they have taken? The great solution of the problem of races lies, perhaps, in this very question. Instincts are living facts, the cause of which is in a felt necessity. The animal species are the result of the exercise of instincts. To convince ourselves of this truth, so long sought after, it is enough to apply to troops of men the observation recently made on flocks of Spanish and English sheep, which, on the level meadows where grass is plentiful, feed closely pressed together, but disperse upon the hillsides where grass is scarce. Transport these two species of sheep from their own land to France or Switzerland, and you will find the hill sheep feeding apart on the plain, and the plain sheep huddling closely together on an alp. Even many generations will scarcely change acquired and transmitted instincts. At the end of a hundred years the mountain spirit will reappear in refractory lambs, just as, after eighteen hundred years of banishment, the East shone in the eyes and in the face of Esther. The glance of those eyes exerted no terrible fascina- tion. It cast a gentle warmth ; it moved to tender- ness without startling ; the hardest wills were melted in that soft glow. Esther vanquished hatred ; she had magnetized the depraved of Paris. It was this glance and her soft, smooth skin which had won her the terrible nickname, the revelation of which had sent her to seek the grave. All else about her was in har- mony with these characteristics of the Peri of the deserts. Her forehead was resolute, and proud in form ; her nose, like that of the Arabs, delicate, thin, 52 Lucien de Ruhempre. with oval nostrils well-placed and turning upward at the edges. Her fresh, red mouth was like a rose un- blighted ; the orgies of her life had left no trace upon it. The chin, modelled as if some loving sculptor had polished its contour, was white as milk. One only thing, which betrayed the courtesan who had fallen low, she had been unable to remedy, — her split and defaced nails needed time to recover their naturally elegant shape, deformed by the commonest work of the household. The pupils began by feeling jealous of these miracles of beauty, but they ended by admiring them. A week had not gone by before they attached themselves to the simple, natural Esther ; they were interested in the- secret misfortunes of a girl who, at eighteen years of age, could neither read nor write ; to whom all knowledge and all instruction were new things ; and who was about to procure for the archbishop the glory of a conversion from Judaism to Christianity, and for the convent the pleasures of a baptismal fete. They forgave her beauty, knowing themselves her superiors by education. Esther soon acquired the manners, the soft voice, the carriage, the attitudes of these well- bred young girls ; in fact, she recovered her original nature. The change was so complete that, on the occasion of his first visit, Herrera was amazed, he whom nothing in the world seemed ever to surprise ; and the superiors of the convent congratulated him on his ward. These women had never, in their career of teaching, met with a more lovable nature, more Chris- tian meekness, a truer modesty, and so great a desire for instruction. When a girl has suffered the evils Lucien de Rubempre. 53 which had overwhelmed this poor creature, and she looks for such a recompense as that the Spaniard had offered to Esther, it would be strange if she did not renew the miracles of the early Church, which the Jesuits are now reviving in Paraguay. " She is edifying," said the superior, kissing her on the forehead. That expression, which is essentially catholic, tells all. During the recreation hours Esther questioned her companions, though reservedly, on the simplest things of their social life, which to her were like the first won- ders of existence to an infant. When told she was to wear white on the day of her baptism and her first communion, white ribbons, white shoes, a white badge, she burst into tears, to the amazement of her comrades. It was the reversal of the scene of Jephthah on the mountain. But Esther was afraid of being suspected, and she ascribed this strange distress to the joy the mere thought of the ceremony caused her. The gulf between the habits and morals she was quitting and those she sought to take was greater even than that between civilization and a state of barbarism ; and Esther had the natural grace and naivete and also the depth of nature which characterizes the wonderful heroine of the "Puritans of America." But she had also, without being aware of it herself, a love in her heart which was gnawing it ; a strong love, a desire more violent in her who knew all than it is in any virgin heart that knows nothing, though these desires may have the same cause and the same object. During the first few months the novelty of a clois- 54 Lucien de Rubempre. tered life, the surprises of her education, the work she learned to do, the exercises of religion, the fervor of her sacred resolution, the sweetness of the affections she inspired, in short, the employment of the faculties of an awakened intellect, all assisted in repressing her memories, even the efforts of the new memory she was acquiring ; for she had as much to unlearn as to learn. Several memories are in us : body and mind have each a memory. Nostalgia, for example, is a disease of the physical memory. After the first three months, the vigor of this virgin soul which was stretching with outspread wings toward heaven, was not conquered, but shackled by a dumb resistance the cause of which was unknown to Esther herself. Like the sheep of Scotland she wanted to browse apart ; she could not vanquish the instincts developed by debauchery. The muddy streets of the Paris she had abjured called to her. Did the chains of her horrible broken habits still hold to her by some forgotten link ? Did she feel them as surgeons say old soldiers suffer in the limbs that have long been amputated? Had vice and its ex- cesses so penetrated to the marrow of her bones that the holy waters had not yet touched the hidden demon? Was the sight of him for whom she was making so many angelic efforts necessary to one whom God must surely pardon for mingling human love with sacred love? The one had led to the other. Did there occur in her a displacement of the vital force which brought with it inevitable suffering? All is doubt and darkness in a situation which those who have knowledge refuse to examine, considering the subject immoral and too compromising, — as if the physician, Lucien de Buhempre. 55 the writer, the priest, and the statesman, were not above suspicion. Nevertheless, one physician, whose work was stopped by death, did have the courage to begin such studies, — alas ! left incomplete. Perhaps the black melancholy to which Esther fell a prey, which obscured, like a pall, her happy life, shared in all these causes; and — incapable of guess- ing its nature — perhaps she suffered as the sick who are ignorant of medicine and of surgery suffer. The fact is strange and even fantastic. Abundant and wholesome nourishment substituted for inflammatory and detestable food Esther could not assimilate. A pure and regular life divided between moderate work and recreation, put in place of a disorderly life in which the pleasures were as horrible as the pains, — this life was crushing down the young pupil. The cool repose, the calm of nights substituted for extreme fatigue and cruel agitations, caused fever of which the symptoms escaped both the eye and finger of the in- firmary nurse. In short, welfare and happiness suc- ceeding to evil and misery, security to anxiety, were as fatal to Esther as her past wretchedness would have been to her young companions. Born in corruption, implanted there, there she had developed. Her in- fernal native land still exercised its power over her, in spite of the sovereign orders of her absolute will. What she hated was life to her ; what she loved was killing her. Her faith had become so ardent that her piety rejoiced the hearts about her. She loved to pray- She had opened her soul to the light of true religion, which she received without effort, without doubt ; but in her the body thwarted the soul at every turn. 56 Lncien de Rubempre. Carp were taken from a muddy pond and placed in a marble basin filled with clearest water, to satisfy a desire of Madame de Maintenon, who fed them with scraps from the royal table. The carp died. Animals may be devoted to man, but man can never communi- cate to them the leprosy of flattery. A courtier re- marked upon the resistance of the fish. " They are like me," said the uncrowned queen, " they regret their mud." That saying was Esther's history at the period of which we speak. Sometimes the poor girl was impelled to wander restlessly through the beautiful gardens of the con- vent ; she went eagerly from tree to tree ; she darted despairingly into shady corners, looking for — what? She did not know ; but she succumbed to the devil, she coquetted with the trees, saying words she never uttered. At other times she would glide along the walls in the darkness, like an eel, without a shawl and her shoulders bare. Often, in the chapel during the services, she would kneel with her eyes fixed on the altar; those about her admired her. Tears came to her, but they were tears of rage ; instead of the sacred images she wished to see, the flaming nights when she had led the revels, as Habeneck leads a symphony of Beethoven at the Conservatoire, came back to her, dishevelled, furious, brutal. Outwardly she was like a virgin who belongs to earth by her feminine form only ; within, an imperial Messalina raged. She alone was in the secret of this struggle of the devil against the angel. When the superior remarked on the pains with which she had dressed her hair, and rebuked her, she changed it with sweet and prompt obedience ; she Lucien de Bubemjpre. 57 was ready to cut the hair from her head if her mother ordered it. This nostalgia, for such it was, was piti- fully touching in a girl who would rather die than return to her impure native land. She grew pale and thin, and changed greatly. The superior lessened her studies, and took so interesting a pupil to her own apartment to question her. Esther seemed happy ; took pleasure in her companions ; felt no ill in any vital part, — and yet her vitality was attacked. She regretted nothing ; she desired nothing. The superior, surprised at the girl's answers, knew not what to think, seeing her so evidently the prey to a consuming languor. The physician of the convent was called in as soon as the pupil's condition seemed serious ; but Esther's previous life was unknown to him, and he could not suspect it. The mother superior, under a sense of danger, sent for the Abba Herrera. The Spaniard came, saw Esther's desperate condition, and said a few words in private to the physician. After this conversation the man of science informed the man of faith that the best remedy would be to take the girl a journey to Italy. The abbe would not consent to the journey being made before Esther's baptism and first communion. "How long before they take place?" asked the physician. "A month," said the superior. " She will be dead." " Yes, but in a state of grace and saved," said the abbe. The religious point governs all questions political, civil, and vital, in Spain. The doctor made no reply 58 Lucien de Eubempre. to the Spaniard ; he turned to the mother superior ; but the terrible abbe took him by the arm and stopped him. " Not one word, monsieur," he said. The physician, though religious and monarchical, cast a look of tender pity upon Esther. The girl was beautiful as a lily bending on its stalk. " To the mercy of God, then ! " he cried as he went away. The same day Esther was taken by her protector, the abbe, to the Rocher de Cancale, for the desire of saving her suggested a strange expedient to the priest ; he would try dissipation, — two dissipations : an excel- lent dinner, which might recall to the girl's mind her past excesses ; and the Opera, which would give her worldly images. It needed all his overwhelming authority to induce the young novice to enter such scenes. At the Opera he placed her in a box where she could not be seen. But these remedies were of no avail ; the convent pupil felt a disgust for the dinner and the theatre, a deep repugnance for what she did, and fell back into sadness. " She is dying of love for Lucien," thought Herrera, who now resolved to sound the depths of that soul and know what he could exact of it. There came a day at last when the poor girl was sus- tained only by her moral force ; the body was about to give way. The priest had calculated the moment with the awful practical sagacity shown in the olden time by executioners when applying the "question." He found his ward in the garden, sitting on a bench beside a trellis on which an April sun was flickering. She Lucien de Bubempre. 59 seemed cold, and to be trying to warm herself; her comrades watched with pitying interest her pallor like that of withered grass, her eyes like those of a dying doe, her attitude expressive of melancholy. Esther rose to go forward and meet the Spaniard, with a movement which showed how little life she had, and, let us say, how little desire she had to live. This poor Bohemian, this bruised wild swallow, excited, for the second time, the pity of Carlos Herrera. That gloomy minister, whom it seemed that God would employ only in the accomplishment of his dire punishments, received the feeble creature with a smile that expressed as much bitterness as gentleness, as much revenge as charity. Trained to meditation and to self-examination during her semi-monastic life, Esther felt for the second time a strong distrust of her protector ; but she was reas- sured, as on the first occasion, by his words. " My dear child," he said, " why have you never spoken to me of Lucien ? " " I had promised you," she answered, quivering from head to foot with a convulsive motion, " I had sworn to you never to pronounce his name." " But you have not ceased to think of him? " " That is my only blame. I think of him at all times, and when you appeared I was saying to myself his name." " Absence from him is killing you? " For all answer Esther inclined her head on her breast like one at the point of death. " If you saw him again — " " I could live," she said. " Do you think of him with your soul only?" 60 Lucien de Rubempre. " Oh, father," she said, " love cannot be divided into parts ! " " Daughter of an accursed race ! I have done my best to save you ; I return you to your fate. You shall see him again." " Why curse my happiness? Can I not love Lucien and practise virtue, which I love as much as I love him ? Am I not ready to die for it, as I am to die for him? Am I not dying for those two fanaticisms, for the virtue which made me worthy of him, and for him who cast me into the arms of virtue? Yes, ready to die without seeing him, — ready to live by seeing him. God will judge me." Her color had returned, her paleness had taken a golden hue. Once more her grace came back to her. " The day after that on which you are cleansed by the waters of baptism you shall see Lucien again ; if you think you can live virtuously in living for him you shall not again be separated from him." The priest was forced to lift her up, for her knees gave way beneath her. The poor girl fell as if the earth had given way at her feet. The abbe placed her on the bench, and when her voice came back to her she said : — "Why not to-day?" u Would you rob Monseigneur of the triumph of your conversion and baptism ? You are too near to Lucien ; you are far from God." " Yes ; I thought of nothing ! " M You will never be of any religion," said the priest, with a motion of the deepest sarcasm. "God is good!" she answered. "He reads my heart." Lucien de Rubempre. 61 Vanquished by the simplicity of soul which shone in Esther's voice, look, gestures, and attitude, Herrera kissed her for the first time upon her forehead. "The libertines have rightly named you," he said; " you would seduce the very elect. A few days and you shall both be free." " Both ! " she repeated, in a tone of ecstasy. This scene, viewed from a distance by the pupils and the superiors, struck them with a sense that they had looked upon some magical operation. The girl was changed. She reappeared in her true nature of love, — gentle, winning, affectionate, and gay ; in short, she was resuscitated. 62 Lucien de Bubempre. IV. IN WHICH WE LEARN HOW MUCH OF A PRIEST THERE WAS IN THE ABBE DON CARLOS HERRERA. Herrera lived hi the rue Cassette, near Saint- Sulpice, the church he had selected for his religious duties. This church, cold and barren, suited a Span- iard whose religion partook of that of the Dominicans. A true son of the crafty policy of Ferdinand VII., he was sent to do all the ill he could to the constitutional cause, aware that this devotion could never be rewarded until the restoration of the " Key netto." Carlos Her- rera had given himself body and soul to the camarilla at the moment when the Cortes seemed not likely to be overthrown. To the world this conduct proclaimed him a superior soul. The expedition of the Due d'Angouleme took place, King Ferdinand reigned, but Don Carlos Herrera did not return to Madrid to claim the reward of his services. Protected against curiosity by diplomatic silence, he gave as the reason of his continued stay in Paris his strong affection for Lucien de Rubempre, to which affection on the part of the diplomatist the young man owed the ordinance of the king permitting him to take the name and arms of his mother's family. Herrera lived, as live traditionally all priests em- ployed on secret missions, very obscurely. He accom- Lucien de Eubempre. 63 plished his religious duties at Saint-Sulpice, never went out except on business, and then at night and in a car- riage. The day was spent by him in the Spanish siesta, which places sleep between the two repasts, and occupies the very hours when Paris is most tumultuous and busy. The Spanish cigar also played its part, and consumed as much time as it did tobacco. Laziness is a mask as well as gravity, which is also laziness. Herrera lived in one wing of the house, on the second floor ; Lucien occupied the other wing. The two suites were separated, and also united, by the grand reception- rooms, the ancient magnificence of which was equally in harmony with the grave ecclesiastic and the youth- ful poet. The court-yard of this mansion was gloomy. Large trees shaded the garden. Silence and discreet seclusion are always noticeable in the dwellings selected by priests. Herrera's lodging can be described in one word, — cells. That of Lucien, brilliant with luxury and supplied with every refinement of comfort, com- bined all requisites for the life of the dandy, poet, and writer, ambitious, worldly, proud, and also vain, — a careless being, yet desirous of order ; one of those in- complete geniuses who have some force to desire and to conceive (which are, perhaps, the same thing), but are powerless to execute. The two, Lucien and Herrera, formed a policy ; in that, no doubt, lay the secret of their union. Elderly men, in whom the action of life is displaced and diverted into the sphere of abstract interests, often feel the need of some fresh machine, some young and ardent actor to accomplish their projects. Richelieu long sought for a handsome moustached face 64 Lucien de Rubempre. to attract and divert the women he had to manage. Not comprehended by giddy youths, he was forced to banish the mother of his master and frighten the queen, after endeavoring vainly to make them each in love with himself, — he being not of a style to please queens. No matter what men may do, they must, in a life of ambition, bring up sooner or later against a woman, and at the moment usually when they least expect it. However powerful a great states- man may be, he needs a woman to oppose to a woman, as the Dutch cut diamonds with diamonds. Rome, at the summit of her power, obeyed this necessity. See how the life of Mazarin, the Italian cardinal, was dominant in another way than that of Richelieu. Richelieu was opposed by the great lords, and laid the axe at their roots ; he died at the height of his power, worn out with the duel, in which he had had no helper but a Capuchin monk. Mazarin was re- pulsed by Noblesse and Bourgeoisie united, both armed and sometimes victoriously able to put Royalty to flight; but the servitor of Anne of Austria, though he cut off no head, vanquished all France, and formed Louis XIV., who accomplished Richelieu's work by strangling the Noblesse with the golden bow-strings of the harem of Versailles. Madame de Pompadour dead, Choiseul was powerless. Was Carlos Herrera imbued with such doctrines? Did he do wisely for himself sooner than Richelieu did? Had he chosen a Cinq-Mars in Lucien, — a faithful Cinq-Mars? No one could answer these ques- tions or measure the ambition of that Spaniard, nor could any foresee what his end would be. These Lucien de Bubempre. 65 inquiries put by those who were able to cast an eye on this union, which was kept secret for some time, tend towards the disclosure of a dreadful mystery, the truth of which Lucien had only known within a few days. Don Carlos was ambitious for both ; that fact was plainly demonstrated to every one who knew them, and all believed that Lucien was the natural son of the priest. Fifteen days after Lucien's reappearance at the Opera, which cast him into the Parisian world sooner than the abbe wished (for he wanted more time to arm him against society), Lucien had three fine horses in his stable ; # coupe for use at night, a cabriolet and tilbury for the morning. He dined out daily. Her- rera's expectations were realized ; dissipation laid hold of his pupil, but he thought this needful to create a diversion to the young man's desperate love for Esther. But, after squandering some forty thousand francs in folly, Lucien was only the more bent on recovering Esther, for whom he searched pertinaciously ; not find- ing her, she became to him what the game is to the hunter. Could Herrera comprehend the nature of a poet's love? When once that sentiment has entered the head of those great little men as it has their heart and their senses, the poet becomes as superior to humanity through love as he is through the power of his fancy. Owing to a caprice of the present generation the rare faculty of expressing nature by images on which he imprints both sentiment and ideas, the poet gives to his love the wings of his mind ; he feels and' he paints, he acts and he meditates, he multiplies his sensations by thought, he triples present felicity by aspiration of the 5 66 Lucien de Bubempre. future and memory of the past ; he mingles with his love all the exquisite enjoyments of the soul which make him the prince of artists. The passion of a poet then becomes a great poem in which it often happens that human proportions are surpassed. The poet places his mistress higher than women desire to be held. He changes, like the noble knight of La Mancha, a girl of the fields to a princess. He puts to his own use the wand with which he touches all things and makes them marvellous ; he magnifies his sensuous pleasures by his adorable instinct of the ideal. Therefore this love is a model of passion; it is excessive in everything, — in its hopes; in its despair, in its anger, its sadness, its joy ; it flies, it bounds, it creeps ; it resembles none of the agitations which lay hold of common men ; it is to the bourgeois love what the eternal torrent of the Alps is to the rivulet of the plain. These rare geniuses are so seldom understood that they waste their being on false hopes ; they con- sume their vitality in the search for their ideal mis- tresses ; they die like the beautiful insects adorned for fetes of love by Nature, the great poet, and crushed while yet virgin beneath the foot of some unconscious passer. But, lo ! another danger ! When they meet the form which responds to their spirit, — sometimes a baker's girl, — they do as Raffaelle did, as the beauti- ful insect does, they die for the Fornarina. Lucien had reached this point. His poetic nature, necessarily ex- treme in everything, in good as in evil, had divined the angel in the prostitute, more smeared by corrup- tion than corrupted ; he saw her white-winged, pure, mysterious, as if she had made herself for him, divining that he needed her thus. Lucien de Eubempre. 67 Towards the end of the month of May, 1825, Lucien had lost all his vivacity ; he no longer went out ; dined daily with Herrera, was pensive, did some work, read collections of diplomatic treaties, and sat like a Turk on his divan smoking three or four hookas a day. His groom employed more time in cleaning the tubes of the pretty instrument than in currying the horses or deck- ing them with roses for the Bois. The day on which the Spaniard saw Lucien's forehead pallid, and recog- nized the signs of illness from the madness of thwarted love, he resolved to go to the bottom of this heart of man upon which he had now built his own life. On a fine evening, when Lucien, sitting in an arm- chair, was idly gazing through the trees in the garden at the setting sun, casting the mist of his perfumed smoke in prolonged and regular exhalations, as pre- occupied smokers do, he was suddenly drawn from his revery by a heavy sigh. Looking up, he saw the abbe standing before him with his arms crossed. ** So you are there," he said. "And have been for some time," replied the priest. " My thoughts have been following yours." Lucien understood the meaning of the words. " I never claimed to have an iron nature like yours," he said. "Life is to me, by turns, first heaven and then hell ; but when, by chance, it is neither the one nor the other, then it bores me ; I am bored." " Why? — when you have so many magnificent pros- pects before you?" "When one does not believe in such prospects, or when they are too mysteriously veiled — " "No nonsense!" said the priest. "It would be 68 Lucien de Ruhempre. far more worthy of you and of me if you opened your heart to me. There is between us what ought never to have been, a secret. This secret has lasted sixteen months. You love — " "Goon." " — a depraved girl, whom they call La Torpille." "Well?" " My son, I permitted you to take a mistress ; but a woman in society, young, handsome, influential, and of rank. I chose for you Madame d'Espard, so that you might have no scruple in making her a stepping-stone of fortune ; she would never have perverted your heart, she would have left you free. But to love a prostitute of the lowest kind when you have not, like kings, the power of ennobling her, is a monstrous fault." " Am I the first who has renounced ambition to follow the bent of an ungovernable love?" " Ah ! " said the priest, picking up the mouth-piece of the hookah which Lucien had let drop, and handing it to him. "I note the sarcasm. But why not com- bine both ambition and love? Child, you have in your old Herrera a mother whose devotion is boundless." " I know it, old friend," said Lucien, pressing the priest's hand and shaking it. " You wanted the gewgaws of wealth, and you have them. You wanted to shine, and I have guided you into a path of power. I have kissed many dirty hands for your advancement, and you can advance. A little more time, and you will lack nothing that can please and delight either man or woman. Effeminate through your caprices, you are virile in mind ; I know yon wholly, and I pardon all. You have only to say the Lucien de Eubempre. 69 word and all your passions of the hour shall be satisfied. I have enlarged your life by putting upon it that which will make it admired by the greater number, the seal of statecraft and dominion. You shall be as great as you once were small. But we must not break the ma- chine with which we coin the money. I allow all, except the faults which compromise your future. When I open to you the salons of the faubourg Saint-Germain, I forbid you to rake in the gutters. Lucien ! I stand like a bar of iron in defence of your interests ; I will endure all from you, for you. I have converted your weak throw in the game of life into the successful play of a practised gambler." Lucien raised his head with an abrupt and furious motion. " I carried off La Torpille." " You ! " cried Lucien. In a passion of animal rage Lucien bounded up, threw the jewelled mouth-piece in the face of the priest, and pushed him so violently as to throw over that athletic form. "I," said the Spaniard, rising and still preserving his terrible gravity. The black wig had fallen off. A skull, polished like that of a death's head, restored to the man his true physiognomy : it was terrifying. Lucien remained on his divan, with hanging arms, overwhelmed, gazing at the abbe with stupid eyes. " I carried her off," repeated the priest. " What have you done with her? Did you carry her away the day after the masked ball ? " " Yes, the day after I saw a being who belonged to 70 Lucien de Rubempre. you insulted by rascals whom I would not stoop to even kick — " "Rascals!" said Lucien, interrupting him; "say rather monsters, beside whom criminals who are guil- lotined are angels. Do you know what that poor girl had done for three of them ? One was for two months her lover ; she was poor and earned her bread in the gutter; he himself had not a penny, — like me when you met me near the river. The fellow got up in the night and went to the closet where she kept the remains of her scanty dinner and ate them. She ended by discovering this act ; she felt the shame of it ; after that she left much more of her food for him ; it made her happy. She told this to me, to me only, as we drove back that night from the Opera. The second had robbed a friend, but before the theft could be discovered she lent him the money to replace it, which he has never returned to her. As for the third, she made his fortune by playing a comedy -worthy of the genius of Figaro ; she passed for his wife and made herself the mistress of a man in power, who thought her the most honest of bourgeoises. To one she gave life, to another honor, to the third fortune ; and see how they rewarded her." " Shall they die? " said Herrera in a muffled voice. " Ah, there you are ! I know you now — " " No, not yet ; hear all, peevish poet! La Torpille no longer exists." Lucien sprang upon Herrera so vigorously to catch him by the throat that any other man w r ould have been knocked down, but the Spaniard was on his guard, and his arm held Lucien back. Lucien de Rubemjpre. 71 " Listen," he said coldly. "I have made a chaste, religious, well-trained woman of her ; a well-bred woman ; she is in the road to farther improvement. She may, she should, become under the empire of your love, a Ninon, a Marion Delorme, a Dubarry, as that journalist said at the Opera. You can admit that she is your mistress, or you can stay behind the curtain, which would be the wiser way ; either way will bring you profit, pleasure, and progress. But if you are as worldly-wise a man as you are a great poet, Esther will be no more to you than a sister, for later, mark my words, she will extricate us from some difficulty, or play some great card for us ; she is worth her weight in gold. Drink, if you will, but do not get drunk. If I had not taken the reins of your passion into my own hands, where would you be now? Here, read," said Herrera, as simply as Talma in " Manlius," which he had never seen. A paper fell upon the poet's knees, and drew him from the stupefied surprise into which this speech had thrown him. He took and read the first letter ever written by Esther : — To Monsieur I'Abbe Carlos Herrera : My dear Protector, — Will you not believe that grati- tude goes before love in my heart when you see that it is to thank you that I employ, for the first time, the faculty of expressing my thoughts in writing, instead of spending it in trying to describe a love which Lucien has, perhaps, for- gotten. But I will tell to you, a man of God, what I dare not tell to him, — to him who, for my happiness, is here on earth. The ceremony of yesterday has poured treasures of grace and mercy into my soul, and again I place my destiny 72 Lucien de RuhemprS. in your hands. If I am to die parted from my beloved, I shall die purified, like the Magdalen, and my soul will be- come to him the rival of his guardian angel. Can I ever forget the festival of yesterday ? How could I ever abdicate the glorious throne to which I rose ? Yesterday I cleansed my sins, visibly, in the waters of baptism ; I received the sacred body of our Saviour ; I became one of his tabernacles. At that moment I heard the songs of angels ; I was more than a woman ; I was borne to a life of light on a cloud of incense and prayers, decked like a virgin for a celestial spouse. Feeling myself — what I never hoped to be — wor- thy of Lucien, I abjured unworthy love ; I will walk in no other paths than those of virtue. If my body is more feeble than my soul, let it perish. Be the arbiter of my fate; guide me. And if I die, tell Lucien that I died for him in being born to God. Sunday evening. Lucien raised his tearful eyes to the abbe. " You know the apartment of little Caroline Belle- feuille in the rue Taitbout," said the Spaniard. " That poor girl, abandoned by her magistrate, was in great distress ; they were about to put an execution in the house. I have bought it, furniture and all. Esther, that angel who talked of rising to the skies, is there, and you can find her." Lucien had no strength to express his gratitude ; he flung himself into the arms of the man he had latel} 7 attacked, repaired the insult with a look and the mute effusion of his feelings. Then he rushed down the stairs, threw Esther's address to his groom, and the horses started as if their master's passion inspired their legs. The next day a man, whom the passers might have judged from his dress to be a disguised gendarme, was Lucien de Bubempre. 73 walking up and down the rue Taitbout, looking at a house from which he seemed to expect some one to issue ; his step was that of a man under excitement. You will often meet such preoccupied pedestrians in Paris : either real gendarmes, watching some national guard, who is avoiding arrest for misdemeanor; or creditors, waiting to affront a debtor, who keeps him- self carefully immured at home ; or lovers and hus- bands, jealous and suspicious ; or friends, standing sentinel in behalf of friends. But you will seldom meet a face gleaming with the savage wickedness that lighted that of the sombre athlete who paced the street beneath Esther's windows like a bear in a cage. About mid-day a window was opened and the blinds thrown back by a woman's hand, and Esther looked out to breathe the air. Lucien was beside her. Any one who had seen them would have been reminded of an English vignette. Esther instantly caught the basi- lisk eyes of the Spanish priest, and the poor creature, struck by their expression as by a curse, gave a cry of fear. " The priest is there," she said to Lucien. 11 He," he said, smiling, — " he is no more a priest than you are ! " " What is he, then? " she asked, terrified. "Ha! an old heathen, who believes neither in God nor in the devil," replied Lucien, letting a gleam of light escape him on the secrets of the priest, which might have ruined them both with any other listener than Esther. As they entered the dining-room, where their break- fast was served, the lovers met Herrera. 74 Lucien de Ruhempre. " Why are you here? " asked Lucien. "To bless you!" replied that powerful individual, stopping the couple and obliging them to go back into the salon. " Listen, my young lovers ! Amuse your- selves, be happy, — that 's all very well. Happiness at any price, — that 's my doctrine. But you," he said, addressing Esther, — "you whom I dragged from the mud and washed, body and soul, — you must not ven- ture to put yourself across the path of Lucien's ad- vancement. As for you," he added, after a pause, looking at Lucien, " you are no longer a mere poet, to let yourself be sunk in a new Coralie. We are making prose, now. What can the lover of Esther become? Nothing. Can Esther be Madame de Rubempre ? No. Well, then, the world, my dear," — he placed his hand on that of Esther, who shuddered and shrank from him as if touched by a snake, — " if you love Lucien, the world must be ignorant of your existence ; above all, it must never know that Esther loves Lucien and Lucien loves her. This house will be your prison, my little girl. If you wish to go out, and your health requires it, it must be at night, and in a way that you cannot be seen ; for your beauty, your youth, and the distinction you have acquired in the convent would be instantly remarked upon. The day when any one, no matter who," he said, in a terrible tone, accompanied by a still more terrible glance, " discovers that Lucien is your lover, that day will be your last on earth. An ordinance has been procured for that young man which permits him to bear the name and arms of his maternal ancestors. That is not all ; the title of marquis has not yet been granted to him. To recover it, he must Lucien de Rubempre. 75 marry the daughter of a noble house, to whom the king will grant that favor. This alliance will put Lucien into the society of the court. This youth, of whom I have made a man, will become, first, the secre- tary of an embassy, and later, an ambassador to one of the German courts ; and God — or I, which is more to the purpose — aiding him, he will sit some day on the bench of peers — " " Or the bench of — " said Lucien, interrupting the so-called priest. " Silence ! " said Carlos, standing in front of Lucien. " Such secrets before a woman ! " he whispered. "Esther, a woman of that kind! " cried the author of the " Daisies." "Sonnets!" sneered the priest. "All such angels come down to being women, sooner or later. All women have times when they are monkeys and chil- dren in one ; two beings who can kill us while they amuse us. Esther, my jewel," he said, to the horror- stricken girl, "I have engaged a maid for you, — a creature who belongs to me as if she were my own daughter. You will also have as cook a mulatto woman ; she will give a certain air to your establish- ment. With Europe and Asia (those are the names by which I call them) you can live here for two thousand francs a month, all told, like a queen, — a theatre queen. Europe has been a dress-maker, milliner, and super- numerary ; Asia was a cook to a gormandizing milord. These two women will be your household fairies." Seeing Lucien a mere babe before this strange being, who was guilty at any rate of sacrilege and forgery, the poor woman felt an awful terror and despair to the 76 Lucien de Bubempre. very depths of her heart. She could not speak, but dragged Lucien away to the inner room, and whis- pered, "Is he the devil?" " Far worse — for me," he said, passionately. " But if you love me, obey him under pain of death." " Death?" she echoed, still more terrified. " Death," repeated Lucien. "Alas, my sweetest, no death could be compared to that which would befall me if — " Esther turned deathly pale as she heard these words and felt herself faltering. " Well ! " cried the false abbe, " have n't you pulled all the leaves from your daisies yet?" Lucien and Esther returned to the salon, and the poor girl said, without daring to look at the mysterious man: u You will be obeyed, monsieur, as we obey God." " Right," he replied, " now you may be happy for a certain time at any rate. You will want but few clothes," he added, " as you never go out except at night ; that will be economical." The lovers again turned toward the dining-room ; but Lucien's master made a gesture which arrested them. " I spoke of your servants, my dear," he said to Esther; " I will now present them to you." The Spaniard rang twice. The two women whom he had named Europe and Asia appeared, and the reason of their nicknames was at once apparent. Lucien de Eubempre. 77 V. TWO WATCH-DOGS. Asia, who appeared to have been born on the island of Java, presented to the eye, as if to alarm it instantly, the copper visage peculiar to the Malays, flat as a board, the nose seeming to have been pushed in by some power- ful compression. The singular position of the maxillary bones gave to the lower part of the face a strong re- semblance to that of the larger species of ape. The forehead, though retreating, was not without a certain intelligence produced by cunning. Two flaming little eyes had the calmness of those of tigers ; but they never looked you in the face. Asia seemed to be afraid of terrifying her companions. The lips, of a pale blue, disclosed teeth of dazzling whiteness, but overlapping. The general expression of this animal countenance was villanous. Her hair, shining and oily like the skin of the face, lay in two black bands on either side of a rich silken turban. Her ears, extremely pretty, had in them two large brown pearls for orna- ment. Short and thick-set, Asia resembled certain comical figures which the Chinese permit themselves to paint on their boxes ; or rather, to speak more pre- cisely, to those Hindu idols, the type of which we think could never exist until some traveller meets with it. Seeing this monster, dressed in a stuff gown and a white apron, Esther shuddered. 78 Lucien de Eubempre. " Asia/' said the Spaniard, to whom the woman raised her head with a movement that was comparable to that of a dog looking at his master ; M this is your mistress." He pointed to Esther in her morning-gown. Asia looked at the young sylph with an expression that was somewhat sorrowful ; though at the same time a stifled gleam shot from her half -closed eyelids at Lucien, who looked divinely handsome at that moment. Italian genius may invent the tale of Othello, and English genius may show it on the stage, but nature alone is able to put into the human glance the complete and magnificent expression of jealousy. Esther saw it, and she gripped the Spaniard by the arm, setting in her nails as a cat would have clung to save itself from falling down a precipice. The Spaniard said three or four words in an unknown language to the Asiatic monster, who at once knelt down at Esther's feet and kissed them. " She can cook in away to put Careme beside him- self," said the Spaniard to Esther. ** Asia knows how to do everything. She will send up a simple dish of vegetables which will make you wonder if the angels have not been down from heaven to add some celestial herb to it. She goes to market every morning herself, and fights like the devil that she is, to get things at the lowest price. Moreover, she will tire out all inquisitive people with her discretion. As you are to be thought to have come from India, Asia's presence will assist the fable ; she 's a Parisian born to be of any country she chooses — though my advice to you is not to be a foreigner. Europe, what say you? " Lucien de Bubempre. 79 Europe was a perfect contrast to Asia, being as trig a little soubrette as Monrose ever desired for an opponent on the stage. Slim, and apparently giddy, with a sharp little nose and the face of a weasel, Europe presented to all observers a face worn out by Parisian corruptions ; the wan, tired face of a girl fed on raw apples, lymphatic yet wiry, slack but tenacious. With her little foot advanced, her hands in the pockets of her apron, she wriggled while standing still, out of mere excitability. A grisette and a figurante, she must, in spite of her youth, have played various roles in life. Naturally depraved, like so many of her kind, she may have robbed her parents or sat on the benches of the correctional police. Asia inspired fear, but she was known for what she was in a moment ; she descended in a direct line from Locusta ; whereas Europe inspired a perpetual anxiety, which could only deepen as her service continued ; her corruption seemed to have no limit; she would, as the saying is, have balked at nothing. "Perhaps madame comes from Valenciennes," said Europe, in a hard, thin voice. " I do. Will monsieur please to tell us," she added, addressing Lucien, " what name he gives to madame? " 11 Madame van Bogseck," said the Spaniard, revers- ing two letters in Esther's name. " Madame is a Jewess, originally from Holland, the widow of a mer- chant, and ill of a liver complaint brought back from Java. Of no great fortune to excite curiosity — " M Only enough to live on, and we are to complain of her economies," suggested Europe. "Precisely," said the Spaniard, nodding his head. 80 Lucien de Bubempre. " Imps of Satan ! " be cried in his terrible voice, de- tecting looks between Europe and Asia which displeased him ; u remember what I have told you ; you serve a queen ; and you are to serve her with devotion, as you would me. Neither the porter, nor the neighbors, nor any one else is to know what passes here. It is your business to mislead curiosity, should any be shown. And madame," he continued, putting his large hairy hand on Esther's arm, " madame must not commit the smallest imprudence ; you will prevent it if need be, but — always respectfully. Europe, I place you in relation with the outside world ; you will attend to madame's dress and purchases ; be careful to practise economy. Lastly, let no one, not the most insignificant persons, set foot in this apartment. Between you two the work of taking care of it must be done. My little beauty," he said to Esther, " when you want to go out in the evening tell Europe ; she knows where to get you a carriage, and you will have a chasseur at your orders, — one of my choosing," he added, " like the other two." Esther and Lucien were unable to say a word. They listened to the Spaniard and gazed at the two strange characters to whom he gave his orders. To what secret power did he owe the submission, the devotion written upon their faces, one so wickedly rebellious, the other so profoundly cruel? He guessed the thoughts of Esther and of Lucien, who seemed paralyzed, as Paul and Virginia might have been at the sight of two horrible serpents ; and he whispered in their ears in a kinder voice : — "You can trust them as you can me; keep no Lucien de Eubempre. 81 secrets from them ; that will flatter them. Come, Asia," he said, smiling, "serve the breakfast; and you, my little Europe, put me a knife and fork ; the least these children can do is to invite papa to a meal." When the two women had closed the door and the Spaniard heard Europe going and coming in the ad- joining room, he said to Lucien and the young girl, opening and shutting his large hand, " I hold them ! " a saying and gesture which made them tremble. " Where did you find them? " cried Lucien. "Eh! parbleu!" replied the man, " I did not look for them on the steps of the throne. Such as they come from the mud, and they fear to go back into it. Threaten them with monsieur Vabbe if they don't do as you wish ; you '11 see them tremble like mice that hear the cat. I 'm a tamer of wild beasts," he said, laughing. " You seem to me a demon," cried Esther, shrinking to Lucien' s side. * ' My child, I attempted to give you to heaven ; but the repentant Magdalen will always baffle the Church. If there is such a being she '11 return to her ways in paradise. You have gained something, however. You learned, over there, things that you never could have known in the infamous sphere in which you lived, — how to behave like a well-bred woman, how to conduct yourself. You owe me nothing," he exclaimed, seeing the expression of gratitude that overspread Esther's face. "I did it all for him," pointing to Lucien. "You are a courtesan, and a courtesan you will con- tinue to be, for, in spite of the theories of those who 82 Lucien de Bubempri. raise cattle, no living being can become in this world anything but what he is. The man of the bumps is right ; you have the bump of love." The Spaniard was, as we see, a fatalist, like Napo- leon, like Mohammed, and many other great states- men. Strangely enough, nearly all men of action incline to Fatalism, while the majority of thinkers incline to Providence. 44 I don't know what I am," replied Esther, with the gentleness of an angel, "but I love Lucien, and I shall die loving him." " Come to breakfast," said the Spaniard, roughly, 44 and pray to heaven that Lucien may not be married soon, for when he does marry you will never see him again." 44 His marriage will be my death," she said. She let the false priest enter the dining-room before her that she might lift herself to Lucien's ear unseen. 44 Is it your will," she asked, 44 that I shall remain under the power of that man who puts those two hyenas to watch me ? " Lucien bowed his head. The poor girl instantly repressed her sadness and seemed joyful ; but she was horribly oppressed at heart. It required more than a year of constant and devoted care before she could accustom herself to the presence of the terrible creatures whom Herrera called his watch-dogs. Lucien's conduct since his return to Paris in com- pany with the Abbe Don Carlos Herrera had been marked by a policy so deep and calculated that it was certain to excite, and did excite, the jealous ill-will of all his former friends, towards whom he attempted no Lucien de Bubempre. 83 other vengeance than that of making them furious by his success, his irreproachable style of living, and his method of keeping them all at a distance. The author of "Daisies," the poet once so expansive, so commu- nicative, became cold and reserved. De Marsay, that type adopted by Parisian youth, did not impart to his actions and to his conversation more reserve than did Lucien. As for his wit, the author and journalist had already proved that. De Marsay, to whom some per- sons compared Lucien, giving their preference to the poet, was petty enough to be annoyed by it. Lucien, who was much in favor with men in secret possession of governmental power, abandoned so completely all desire for literary fame that he was quite indifferent to the success of his novel, republished under its original name, " The Archer of Charles X.," and to the noise made by his collection of sonnets, sold off by Dauriat in a single week. "A posthumous success," he said, laughing, to Mademoiselle des Touches, who complimented him. The terrible Spaniard held his creature with an arm of iron in the path which ends in the flourish of trum- pets and profits that await the patient politician. Lucien had taken the apartment of Baudenord on the quai Malaquais, so as to be nearer to the rue Taitbout. The abbe had three rooms in the same house on the fourth floor. Lucien kept only one horse for saddle and cabriolet, one servant, and a groom. When he did not dine out he dined with Esther. The abbe kept so close a watch on the household of the quai Malaquais, that Lucien did not spend in all more than ten thousand francs a year. Ten thousand francs suf- 84 Lucien de Rubempre. ficed for Esther, thanks to the unremitting and inex- plicable devotion of Europe and Asia. Lucien adopted great precaution in going to and from the rue Taitbout ; always going there in a hackney coach and driving into the court-yard. His passion for Esther, and the exist- ence of the household in the rue Taitbout remained therefore unknown to the world, and were no injury to any of his political relations and enterprises. No word on the subject ever escaped him. His faults of that kind with Coralie had given him experience. His daily life had the regularity of good society, behind which many a mystery can be hid. He was always to be found at home in the morning from ten o'clock to half-past one ; then he went to the Bois or paid visits till five ; and he stayed in society at parties or theatres every night till one in the morning. He was seldom seen on foot, and thus he avoided his former acquaintances. When he was saluted by certain jour- nalists and old comrades he replied by an inclination of the head, civil enough to make it impossible to be angry, yet expressive of that cutting disdain which puts an end to all friendly familiarity. He soon rid himself in this way of men whom he no longer wished to know. His old hatred kept him from going to see Madame d'Espard, who had several times made ad- vances to receive him ; but when he met her at the houses of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, Mademoi- selle des Touches, the Comtesse de Montcornet and others, he treated her with exquisite politeness. This hatred, shared by Madame d'Espard, compelled Lucien to practise some prudence, for we shall see how he deepened it in the marquise by allowing himself a Lucien de Bubempre. 85 piece of revenge, which won him, moreover, a strong lecture from the abbe. " You are not yet powerful enough to revenge your- self on any one, no matter who," said the Spaniard. " When we are travelling under a hot sun, there's no stopping to gather flowers." There was too much future promise and too much real superiority in Lucien not to make the young men whom his sudden return to Paris with a fortune daz- zled and galled, delighted to do him some ill-natured turn. Lucien, who knew he had enemies, was not igno- rant of these intentions ; for the abbe was constantly warning his adopted son against the treachery of the world and the imprudence so fatal to youth. Lucien was made to relate the events of each day to him. Thanks to the counsels of this mentor, the young man baffled the keenest of all curiosities, — that of society. Protected by his newly acquired English gravity, sup- ported by the redoubts thrown up by diplomatic cir- cumspection, he gave no one the right or the occasion to cast an eye on his affairs. His young and beautiful face had ended by becoming as impassible in society as that of a princess at a public ceremony. At the beginning of the year 1829, nearly five years after the period at which we have taken up this portion of his history, a prospect presented itself of his mar- riage to the eldest daughter of the Duchesse de Grand- lieu, who had no less than four daughters to establish. No one doubted that the king, in view of such an alli- ance, would graciously restore to him the title of mar- quis. Such a marriage would secure his political fortunes ; for he would probably be sent at once as 86 Lucien de Bubempre. ambassador to a German court. For the last four years, especially, Lucien's conduct had been absolutely irreproachable, thanks to the abbe's scheme, so that de Marsay, that acute social observer, said of him, " That fellow must have some very strong individual behind him." Lucien had become almost a personage. His passion for Esther had aided him not a little in playing the part of a serious man. A habit of that kind guaran- tees an ambitious man from much folly ; caring for no other woman, he is not caught by reactions of the physical over the mental. As to the happiness enjoyed by Lucien, it was the realization of the penniless poet's dream in a garret. Esther, while reminding him of Coralie, completely effaced her. All loving and devoted women want seclusion, — the life of the pearl in the depths of ocean ; but, with most of them, this is only a charming caprice, a temporary pleasure to be talked of, a proof of love which they dream of giving, but only give for a short while, — whereas Esther, always on the morrow of her first happiness, living at all hours for Lucien only, had no impulse of curiosity or desire for change in four years. She gave her whole mind to remaining under the terms of the agreement laid down for her by the fatal hand of the false abbe. Neither did she ever use her power over Lucien to ask him a single question about Herrera, who, indeed, so terrified her imagination that she dared not think of him. The cautious benefits of that inexplicable per- sonage, to whom Esther certainly owed her rescue, her training, the habits of respectable life, and her regen- eration, seemed to the girl like advances from hell. Lucien de Bubempre. 87 " I must pay for them some day," she said to her- self in terror. On fine evenings she drove out in a hired carriage, always to one of those charming woods in the vicinity of Paris, — Boulogne, Vincennes, Romainville, or Ville d'Avray, — often with Lucien, sometimes alone with Europe. When there she walked about quite fearlessly, for if Lucien was not with her, she was accompanied by a chasseur, whose muscle was that of an athlete. This third keeper carried, like English footmen, a cane called bdton de longueur, known to all players of single- stick, with which he could defy assailants. In accord- ance with an order given by the abbe, Esther had never spoken to this man, whose name was Paccard. Parisians, especially Parisian women, know nothing of the charm of driving out into the woods of a fine night. The silence, the solitude, the balmy air, the moonlight, have the calming effect of a bath. Usually Esther started at ten o'clock, and returned about half-past two. She was late, therefore, in the morning, being seldom up before eleven. Then she bathed, and went through the minutiae of the toilet, ignored by most of the busy women of Paris as taking too much time, and practised only by great ladies and courtesans who have time on their hands. She was never ready until Lucien came, and then she seemed to him like a flower freshly opened. She had no thought in life but his happiness ; she was his as a part of his being ; as such she left him the most absolute freedom. Never did she attempt to cast a glance beyond the sphere in which they lived. Happiness has no history, and the tellers of tales in all lands know this so well 88 Lucicn de Bubcmpre. that they wind up their stories with one sentence, — " They were happy." Lucien was thus at liberty to live as he pleased in society, and to follow out what seemed to be the ne- cessities of liis position. During these years, when he slowly made his way, he rendered secret services to certain statesmen by aiding their work. In this he showed the utmost discretion. He cultivated, more especially, the society of Madame de Serizy, with whom, indeed, the salons averred he was on the most intimate terms. Madame de Serizy had won Lucien away from the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who, it was said, no longer cared for him, — a reason given by many women to explain a defeat. Lucien was, so to speak, in the bosom of the Church, being intimate with several women who were friends of the archbishop of Paris. Reserved and discreet, he bided his time pa- tiently. The speech we have quoted of de Marsay (who by this time was married, and made his wife lead the same secluded life that Esther led) contained more than one observation. But the submarine dangers that threatened Lucien's position will appear in the course of this history without further explanation. Lucien de Eubempre. 89 VI. AN ABYSS OPENS BENEATH ESTHER* S FEET. Such were the circumstances when, on a fine night in the month of June, 1829, the Baron de Nucingen was returning to Paris from the country-seat of a brother-banker with whom he had dined. The estate was in Brie, twenty-four miles from Paris, and as the baron's coachman had boasted of being able to take his master there and back with the same horses, he naturally drove slowly on the way home. As the car- riage entered the wood of Vincennes the coachman, liberally treated at the banker's chateau, was drunk, and sound asleep though he held the reins. The foot- man behind was snoring like a top. The baron wanted to think ; but the gentle somnolence of digestion laid hold of him on the bridge at Gournay. By the slack- ness of tile reins the horses understood the coachman's state ; they heard the bass of the footman's nose, they felt they were masters of the situation, and they profited by this brief half-hour of liberty to go as they pleased. Presently, overcome by the curiosity which everybody must have remarked in domestic animals, they stopped short to examine some other animals, to whom, no doubt, they said in equine language: "To whom do you belong? What do you have to do? Are you happy ? " When the carriage rolled no longer the baron woke up. At first he knew not where he was ; then he was 90 Lucien de Rubempre. surprised by a celestial vision, which came to him, as nothing else had ever done, without calculation. The moon was so bright he could have read by it ; in the silence of the woods at that still hour he saw a woman alone, who, as she was getting into a hired carriage, took notice of the singular spectacle of the sleepy caleche. At sight of this vision the baron felt as though illuminated by an inward light. Seeing herself admired, the young woman lowered her veil with a frightened gesture. The chasseur uttered a hoarse order, and the carriage rolled rapidly away. The baron was conscious of an inward convulsion ; the blood rushed like fire from his feet to his head, his head sent back the flame to his heart, his throat contracted. The unfortunate man feared an apoplectic indigestion ; but, notwithstanding that fear, he sprang to his feet. "Follow that carriage!" he cried in his German accent. "A hundred francs if you overtake it!" At the words " a hundred francs," the coachman woke up ; the footman behind heard them in his dreams. The baron repeated the order, the coachman put his horses to a gallop, and succeeded in overtaking at the Barriere du Trdne a hired carriage similar to the one in which the baron had seen his angel, but which contained the head clerk of a celebrated shop with a lady from the rue Vivienne. The blunder was con- sternation to the baron. The Baron de Nucingen was at this time sixty years of age, and absolutely indifferent to all women, includ- ing his wife. He boasted of never having known the love that makes a man commit follies. He regarded it as a happiness to have done with women, the best of Lucien de Rubempre. 91 whom, he was in the habit of saying, were not worth what they cost. Natural love, artificial love, and self- love, love of ease and of vanity, decent love and con- jugal love, eccentric love, the baron had bought all, and knew all, except real love. This love had now descended upon him as an eagle swoops upon its prey, as it descended upon Gentz, the confidant of Prince Metternich. We all know the follies that old diplo- mat committed for Fanny Ellsler, whose rehearsals took much more of his time than European interests. The woman who had just convulsed the iron-lined money-box called Nucingen appeared to him as one of those women who are unique in their generation. It is not certain that Titian's mistress, or Leonardo's Mona Lisa, or Raffaelle's Fornarina was more beau- tiful than Esther, in whom the most practised Parisian eye could no longer detect a sign of the courtesan. The baron was, above all, bewildered and dazzled by the air of nobility and distinction which Esther now possessed in the highest degree. During the whole of the following week he went nightly to the Bois de Vin- cennes ; then to the Bois de Boulogne ; then to Ville d'Avray, and the woods of Meudon ; in short, to all the environs of Paris, without ever meeting Esther. That splendid Jewish figure, which he said was "a form out of the Bible," was always before his eyes, and in the end he lost health and appetite. Delphine de Nucingen was in the habit of giving Sunday dinners. She had taken that day for her receptions, having remarked that in the great world no one went to the theatres on Sunday, and that the day was generally an unemployed one. The invasion 92 Lucien de Rubempre. of the shopkeeping and bourgeois classes have made Sunday as silly a day in Paris as it is wearisome in London. The company at one of these dinners (about three weeks after Nucingen's chance meeting with Esther) consisted of Desplein, the famous surgeon, Keller, Rastignac, de Marsay, du Tillet, all friends of t{ie house, the Comte de Gondreville, father-in law of Francois Keller, the Chevalier d'Espard, des Lu- peaulx, Horace Bianchon, Desplein's favorite pupil, Beaudenord and his wife, the Comte and Comtesse de Montcornet, Blondet, Mademoiselle des Touches and Konti, and finally Lucien de Rubempre, for whom Rastignac had for the last five years shown the warmest friendship, by order, as the advertisements say. "We shall never get rid of that man easily," said Blondet to Rastignac, as Lucien entered the room, handsomer and more fastidiously dressed than ever. " You had better make a friend of him, for he is formidable," replied Rastignac. " He? " said de Marsay. " I never heard of people being formidable unless their position was clear ; and his is more unattacked than unassailable. What does he live on ? Where does his money come from ? He has, to my knowledge, some sixty thousand francs of debt upon him." " He has found a rich protector in a Spanish priest, who has taken a fancy to him," said Rastignac. " He is to marry the eldest Mademoiselle de Grand- lieu," said Mademoiselle des Touches. "Yes; but," said the Chevalier d'Espard, "he is required to buy an estate with a revenue of thirty thousand francs a year to secure the sum he settles on Lucien de Riibempre. 93 the bride. To do that he Deeds a million, — more than he can pick up at the feet of any Spaniard." "That's a large price, for Clotilde is very plain," said Madame de Nucingen, who gave herself the airs of calling Mademoiselle de Grandlieu by her Christian name, as if she, nee Goriot, frequented that society. "No," remarked du Tillet, "the daughter of a duchess is never plain to such men as we, above all when she gives us the title of marquis and a diplomatic post." "I am no longer surprised at Lucien's gravity," said de Marsay. " Most likely he has n't a sou, and does n't know how to get out of his position." "But Mademoiselle de Grandlieu adores him," said the Comtesse de Montcornet, " and, by her influence, he may be able to make better conditions." " What will he do with that sister and brother-in- law in Angouleme? " asked the Chevalier d'Espard. "The sister is rich," answered Rastignac, " and he calls her now Madame Sechard de Marsac." " Well, even if there are difficulties in his way, he's a handsome fellow," said Bianchon, rising to bow to the young man. " Good-evening, dear friend," said Rastignac, ex- changing a warm shake of the hand with Lucien. De Marsay bowed coldly, after Lucien had bowed to him. Before dinner, Desplein and Bianchon took notice of the evident illness of the Baron de Nucingen, per- ceiving however that the cause was mental. Bianchon declared, impossible as it seemed that this statesman of the Bourse should be in love, that the root of the 94 Lucien de Eubempre. trouble lay there. After dinner, when the company dispersed about the garden, the intimates of the house surrounded the banker, endeavoring to clear up the mystery as soon as Biauchon had broached his theory. " Do you know, baron," said de Marsay, " that you are losing flesh rapidly ; and people suspect you of violating the laws of financial nature?" " Never ! " said the baron. "Yes, they do," returned de Marsay. "They say you are in love." "That is true," said Nucingen, piteously. " I sigh for an unknown object." " You in love ! you ! " cried the Chevalier d'Espard. " What fatuity ! " " I know that nothing was ever more ridiculous than to be in love at my age," said the baron, in his ludi- crous German accent. " But I can't help it, the thing is done." 4 ' Is it a woman in society?" asked Lucien. " Of course," said de Marsay, " the baron would n't get so thin except for a hopeless love ; he has money enough to buy up all the women who could or would sell themselves." " I don't know who she is," said Nucingen. "I can tell you one thing, — because Madame de Nucingen is in the salon, — 1 have never known till now what love is. It is enough to make me lose flesh." " Where did you see her? " asked Rastignac. "In a carriage, at midnight, in the Bois de Vin- cennes." " Describe her," said de Marsay. " A bodice of white gauze, a rose-colored gown, a Lucien de Bubempre. 95 white scarf, white veil, — a figure truly biblical ! eyes of fire, an Eastern skin — " " You dreamed it," said Lucien, laughing. " It is true I was sleeping like a — " " Was she alone? " asked du Tillet, interrupting the banker's sentence. " Yes," said the baron, in a dolorous tone, " except for a chasseur behind the carriage, and a waiting- maid." u Lucien looks as if he knew her," cried Rastignac, detecting a smile on the young man's face. 44 Who would n't know the sort of woman likely to go at midnight to meet Nucingen ? " retorted Lucien, turning on his heel. " She can hardly be any one in society, or the baron would have recognized the chasseur," remarked the Chevalier d'Espard. " I never saw him before," said the baron ; " I have had the police looking for her for the last forty days, and all to no purpose." " She had better cost you a few hundred thousand francs than your life," said Desplein. '*« At your age a passion without nourishment is dangerous ; it may cost you your life." "Yes," replied Nucingen, "what I eat doesn't nourish me ; the air seems deadly. I go every day to the Bois de Vincennes to see the spot where I saw her. I can't attend to my affairs ; if I paid a million to find her I should save money, for I can't do anything on the Bourse — ask du Tillet." u True," responded du Tillet. " He has taken a dis- gust for business ; a sign of death in a man like him." 96 Lucien de Ruhempre. 4 'Sign of love," said Nucingen, " and to me they are the same thing." The naivete of the old man, no longer a lynx, but for the first time in his life conscious that there was something more precious and sacred than gold, touched these biases minds ; some exchanged smiles, but most of them looked at Nucingen with one thought expressed on their faces, "So strong a man to come to this ! " From the baron's description Lucien had, of course, recognized Esther. Greatly annoyed at his smile being noticed, he took advantage of the talk becoming gen- eral, while coffee was served, to disappear. "What has become of Monsieur de Rubempre?" asked Madame de Nucingen. 4 4 He is faithful to the motto of his family, Quid me continebit?" replied Rastignac 44 Which means either, 4 Who can hold me?' or, 4 1 am unconquerable,' whichever you please," said de Marsay. Like all despairing patients, the baron snatched at anything that seemed like hope ; and he resolved to have Lucien watched by other spies than those of Louchard, the ablest man on the commercial police of Paris, with whom he had been in communication for the last fortnight on the matter of his mysterious woman. Lucien, before paying his usual visit to Esther, in- tended to spend at the h6tel de Grandlieu the two hours which made Mademoiselle Clotilde-Frede'rique de Grandlieu the happiest girl in the faubourg Saint- Germain. The prudence which now characterized the conduct of this ambitious young man counselled him Lucien de Bubempre. 97 to inform Carlos Herrera immediately of the effect produced by the smile which had been forced from him on hearing Esther's portrait made by the Baron . de Nucingen. The baron's infatuation for Esther, and his idea of putting the police upon her traces, were events of enough importance to communicate without loss of time to a man who had sought in a priest's cassock the shelter that criminals formerly found in the churches. From the rue Saint-Lazare, where the Nucingens lived, to the rue Saint-Dominique, in which is the h6tel de Grandlieu, Lucien's way led him past his own house on the quai Malaquais. He found the abbe smoking his breviary, that is to say, coloring a pipe, before he went to bed. This strangest of men had ended by renouncing Spanish cigars, find- ing them by no means strong enough. k ' This is getting serious," said the abbe, when Lu- cien had told him all. " If the baron employs Louchard to get upon the girl's traces, he will certainly have the sense to put a spy upon yours, and all will be discov- ered. I have barely time to-night and to-morrow morning to shuffle the cards for the game I shall play against the baron, whom I must, before all else, con- vince of the impotence of the police. When that old lynx has lost all hope of finding the lamb, I '11 sell her for what she is worth to him." 4 'Sell Esther!" cried Lucien, whose first impulses were always right. " You forget our present position," said the abbe. Lucien's head dropped. " No money," continued the sham priest, " and sixty thousand francs of debt to pay! If you wish 7 98 Lucien de Eubempre. to marry Clotilde de Grandlieu, you must buy a prop- erty worth a million to secure a dowry to that ugly creature. Esther is a game on which I will set the lynx in such a way as to get the million out of him. That 's my business." " Esther will never — " " It is my business, I tell you." " She '11 die of it." "Then it will be the business of the Pompes Fu- nebres. Besides, what else is there to do?" asked the savage brute, cutting short Lucien's elegies by the at- titude he took. u How many generals died in the flower of their age for the Emperor Napoleon ? " he asked, presently, after a moment's silence. " Women can always be had. In 1821 you thought no one could be like Coralie ; but you found Esther. After Esther will come — do you know who ? The unknown woman ! she who, of all women, is the most beautiful ; and you can look for her in the German capital, where the son- in-law of the Due de Grandlieu will represent the King of France. Besides, please to tell me, baby that you are, how you know that Esther will die of it. Let me act ; you need not think of anything. The matter is mine ; it concerns me, — only, you must give up Esther for a week or two. Now, go and warble to your Grandlieu ; I must be stirring at once. You will find Esther rather sad when you see her ; but tell her to obey me. Our cloak of virtue, our mantle of inno- cence — the screens behind which all great men hide their iniquities — are in danger ; and the danger threat- ens my glorious I, — you, who must never be suspected. Chance has served us better than my own thoughts, Lucien de Mubempre. 99 which, for two months, have revolved about this point." Casting forth these terrible sentences one by one, like pistol-shots, the false priest hastily dressed him- self, and prepared to go out. " Your joy is visible ! " cried Lucien. " You have never liked poor Esther, and you are only too happy that the moment has come to get rid of her." "You have never ceased to love her, have you? Well, I've never ceased to execrate her. But she served my purpose, and I have always acted as though I loved the girl, though I held her life, through Asia, in my hands. A few mistaken mushrooms in a stew, and all was over. Yet Mademoiselle Esther lives. She is happy because you love her ! Don't play the baby now. It is four years that we have watched and waited for a turn of luck for or against us. Well, then, let us display something more than talent in peeling the fruit that the hand of fate has this day flung to us. In this throw of the dice there is, as there is in every- thing, something good and something bad. Do you know what I was thinking of as you came in ? " "No." " Of making myself here, as I did at Barcelona with Asia's help, the heir of a bigoted old woman." " A crime? " " There was no other resource that I could see to secure your future. Our creditors are getting restless. Once pursued by duns and bailiffs and driven from the h6tel.de Grandlieu, what would become of you? Your note to the devil was due." And the false priest described by a gesture the 100 Lucien de Eubempre. suicide of a man who flings himself into the water. Then he turned on Lucien one of those fixed and pene- trating looks by which the will of strong men enter the souls of feeble ones. This look, which held the young man spell-bound and had the effect of relaxing all resistance, showed that there existed between Lucien and the false abbe not only certain secrets of life and death, but also sentiments paramount to all ordinary sentiments, as was the man himself to the baseness of his position. Compelled to live an alien to social life, into which the laws forbade him ever to return, exhausted by desperate and terrible resistances, but endowed with a force of soul which preyed upon him, this man, at once ignoble and grand, obscure yet famous, con- sumed, above all, by the fever of life, lived again in the elegant person of Lucien, whose soul had become his soul. He had made himself represented in the social life to which he could never return by this poet, to whom he gave his own tenacity and his iron will. To him, Lucien was more than a son, more than a beloved woman, more than family, more than life, — he was his Vengeance ; and, inasmuch as strong souls care far more for a sentiment than for life itself, he had attached Lucien to him by indissoluble bonds. Having bought the life of the despairing poet on the verge of suicide, he proposed to him one of those infernal compacts which are supposed to exist only in the pages of a novel, but the possibility of which, as a matter of fact, is frequently shown in the police courts by celebrated legal dramas. In bestowing upon Lucien all the joys and pleasures of Parisian life, in Lucien de Rubempre. 101 proving to him that he could once more create for him- self a splendid future, he had made the young man a thing of his own. No sacrifice whatever cost this strange man anything, so long as it concerned his second self. In spite of his own vast strength, he was so feeble against the fancies of his creature that he had ended by confiding to him his secrets. Per- haps this purely mental participation in crime was a bond the more between them. From the day when la Torpille was spirited away, Lucien knew the hor- rible foundations on which his prosperity was based. The cassock of the Spanish priest hid Jacques Collin, a celebrity of the galleys, who, ten years earlier, had lived, under the vulgar name of Vautrin, in the Pension Vauquer, where Rastignac and Bianchon were also living. (See " Pere Goriot.") Jacques Collin, also called " Trompe-la-Mort,"' who escaped from the galleys at Rochefort almost as soon as he was returned there, had profited by the example of the famous Comte de Sainte-Helene, modifying however, the more vicious part of Coignard's bold action. To substitute himself for an honest man and continue, as he must, the life of an escaped galley- slave, was a scheme with two lines so antagonistic that it could scarcely fail to come to some fatal end, in Paris especially ; for, by transplanting himself into a family a criminal increased, tenfold, the dangers of detection. To protect himself from inquiry it was necessary* to go outside or above the ordinary round of life. A man in society is subject to certain risks which never touch the man who has no contact with it. For this reason the cassock is the safest of 102 Lucicn de BubemprS. all disguises, when it can be carried out by an exem- plary, solitary life, devoid of action. " Therefore, I will be a priest," said this socially dead man, who willed to live again under a social form and satisfy passions for power and for existence as strange as the being himself. The civil war which the constitution of 1812 pro- duced in Spain, where this resolute man betook himself after his escape from the galleys, gave him the means of secretly killing the real Carlos Herrera on the high-road from an ambush. This priest, who was the bastard of a grandee, abandoned by his father and ignorant of his mother, was charged with a political mission to France by King Ferdinand VII., to whom a bishop had recom- mended him. The bishop, the sole man who took an interest in Carlos Herrera, died during the journey which this forlorn hope of the Church was making from Cadiz to Madrid, and from Madrid to Paris. Fortu- nate in meeting so desired an individual under circum- stances that exactly suited him, Jacques Collin wounded his own back to efface the fatal letters of the galleys and changed his skin with acids. In thus transform- ing himself in presence of the priest's body before destroying it, he was able to give himself a certain likeness to his double ; and to complete this transmuta- tion (which was nearly as marvellous as that in the Arabian tale where the dervish acquires the power of entering — he, an old man — into a young body by the use of magic words) the galley-slave, who could speak Spanish, taught himself as much Latin as a Spanish priest might be expected to know. Collin had been chosen the banker of the galleys, Lucien de Bubempre. 103 and he was rich with deposits confided to his well- known honesty, — an honesty which was also a matter of necessity, for among such partners an error is bal- anced by a dagger. To these funds he added the money given by the bishop to Carlos Herrera. Before leaving Spain he was able to lay hands on the wealth of a pious old lady in Barcelona, to whom he gave absolution on her death-bed and a promise to restore certain sums derived by her from a crime, through which her fortune came to her. Having become a priest, charged with a secret mis- sion which would naturally obtain for him powerful supporters in Paris, Jacques Collin, firmly resolving to do nothing that might compromise the character he had now assumed, had given himself up to the chances of his new career at the moment when he encountered Lucien on the high-road from Angouleme to Paris. The young man seemed to the false abbe a marvellous instrument of power placed unexpectedly in his hand. He saved the suicide from himself, saying : — " Give yourself into the hands of a man of God as some men give themselves to the devil, and you shall have every chance for a new existence. You shall live as in a dream, from which the worst awaking can be no worse than the death you are about to seek." The alliance of these two beings, who became as it were one, rested on this argument, full of force, which the abbe clinched still further by slowly and saga- ciously leading up to complete collusion. Gifted with the genius of corruption, he destroyed Lucien's con- science by plunging him into cruel difficulties, from which he extricated him by obtaining his tacit consent 104 Lucien de Ruhempre. to wicked or infamous actions, which, he was careful to show, left Lucien pure and loyal in the eyes of others. Lucien was to be a social splendor, in the shadow of which the spurious abbe wished to live. "lam the author, you shall be the drama; if you do not succeed, it is I who will be hissed," he said to Lucien the day that he revealed to him his sacrilegious disguise. The false priest went cautiously from avowal to avowal, measuring the infamy of his confidences by Lucien's needs and the progress made in corrupting him. Trompe-la-Mort did not, however, make his final disclosure until the moment when the habit of Parisian enjoyments, success, and satisfied vanity had enslaved both body and soul of the feeble poet. Where, in the olden time, Rastignac, tempted by this devil, had re- sisted, Lucien succumbed, being better manoeuvred, more judiciously compromised, vanquished, above all, by the happiness of having conquered an enviable position. Evil, which the poetic imagination calls Satan or the Devil, employed upon this man, half a woman, its most alluring seductions, asking little of him at first, and giving much. The great argument of the abbe was the same eternal secrecy promised by Tartuffe to Elmire. The reiterated proofs of an abso- lute devotion, like that of Said to Mohammed, com- pleted the horrible work of Lucien's conquest by Jacques Collin. At the moment of which we write, the money spent on Lucien and Esther had used up the funds confided to the honesty of the banker of the galleys, who was now exposed to a terrible settling of accounts ; and, Lucien de Rubempre. 105 more than that, they had incurred heavy debts. At this moment, when Lucien was about to attain com- plete success, the mere rolling of a pebble beneath their feet might bring down the illusive edifice of a fortune so audaciously built up. At the masked ball, Rastignac had recognized Vautrin, the Vautrin of the Pension Vauquer ; but he knew he was a dead man in case of indiscretion, and the looks exchanged between him and Lucien hid fear on both sides beneath a sem- blance of friendship. It was certain that if a critical moment came, Rastignac would with joy call up the cart to take Jacques Collin to the scaffold. Every one can now understand the savage joy with which the false priest welcomed the news of Nucingen's sudden passion, seizing in a single thought the extri- cation a man of his kind could derive by the sacrifice of poor Esther. " No matter," he said to Lucien, " the devil protects his almoner." " You are smoking on a powder-cask." " Incedo per ignes /" replied the false priest, laugh- ing ; " it is my business." 106 Lucien de Bubempre. VII. THE HOTEL DE GRANDLIEU. The house of Grandlieu became divided into two branches about the middle of the last century. First, the ducal house, now doomed to extinction, because the present duke has only daughters ; secondly, the Vicomtes de Grandlieu, w T ho bear the title and arms of the elder branch. The ducal branch bear gules, three battle-axes or, placed in fesse, with the famous Caveo non Timeo for motto, which tells the whole history of the house. The arms of the vicomtes are quartered with those of the Navarreins, who bear gules, a fesse crenellated or, surmounted by a knight's helmet for crest, and the motto, Grands faits, Grand lieu. The present vicomtesse, a widow since 1813, has a son and one daughter. Though she returned from the emigration half-ruined as to property, she recovered, thanks to the devotion of a lawyer, Derville, quite a handsome fortune. The Due and Duchesse de Grandlieu, who returned in 1804, were the object of much blandishment on the part of the Emperor. Napoleon, who invited them to court, returned everything that could be found belong- ing to the house of Grandlieu in the National domain, amounting to a revenue of nearly forty thousand francs a year. Of all the great seigneurs of the faubourg Saint-Germain who allowed themselves to be cajoled Lucien de Rubempre. 107 by Napoleon, the duke and duchess (an Ajuda of the elder branch, allied to the Braganzas) were the only ones who did not repudiate the Emperor or forget his benefits. Louis XVIII. respected this fidelity when the faubourg Saint-Germain considered it a crime ; but in so doing perhaps the King only meant to annoy Monsieur. It was thought probable that the young Vicomte de Grandlieu would marry Marie- Athenai's, the youngest daughter of the duke, now nine years old. Sabine, the youngest but one, married the Baron de Guenic after the revolution of July. Josephine, the third, became Madame d'Ajuda-Pinto when the marquis lost his first wife, Mademoiselle Rochefide (alias Roche- gude). The eldest daughter had taken the veil in 1822. The second, Mademoiselle Clotilde-Frederique, now twenty-seven years of age, was deeply in love with Lucien de Rubempre. It is unnecessary to ask if the h6tel de Grandlieu, one of the finest in the rue Saint-Dominique, exercised a powerful fascination over Lucien's mind. Every time the great gates turned on their hinges to admit his cabriolet to the court-yard he experienced the satisfaction described by Mirabeau : — "Though my father was only an apothecary at Angouleme, I am here — " Such was his constant thought ; and he would will- ingly have committed other crimes than his alliance with Jacques Collin to keep the right of walking up the steps of that portico and hearing his name announced — Monsieur de Rubempre ! — in the grand salon of the style of Louis XIV., built on the model of those at Versailles, where was assembled that society of the 108 Lucien de Bubempre. dlite, the cream of Paris, which went at that time by the name of " le petit chateau." The duchess, one of those women who dislike leaving their own homes, was generally surrounded by her neighbors, the Chaulieus, the Navarreins, and the Lenoncourts. Often the pretty Baronne de Macumer (nee Chaulieu), the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, Madame d'Espard, Madame de Camps, Mademoiselle des Touches (connected with the Grand- lieus who come from Bretagne), were there for a while before going to a ball or after the opera. The Vicomte de Grandlieu, the Due de Rh6tore, the Prince de Bla- mont-Chauvry, the Marquis de Beauseant, the Vidame de Pamiers, the two Vandernesses, the old Prince de Cadignan, and his son the Due de Maufrigneuse were the habitues of this grandiose salon, where the atmosphere was that of a court, and the manners, tone, and wit har- monized with the noble presence of the masters, whose grand aristocratic bearing caused their Napoleonic servitude to be forgotten. The old Duchesse d'Uxelles, mother of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, was the oracle of this coterie, where Madame de Serizy had never yet been able to obtain admittance, though born a Rouquerolles. Lucien, brought there by Madame de Maufrigneuse, who had made her mother act in the matter, maintained his position, thanks to the influence of the Grand Almonry of France and the help of the archbishop of Paris. But even so, he was not presented until after the King's ordinance had restored to him the name and arms of the house of Rubempre. The Due de Rhetor^, the Chevalier d'Espard, and a few others, jealous of Lucien, did their best from time to time to prejudice Lucien de Rtibempre. 109 the Due de Grandlieu against him, by relating anec- dotes concerning Lucien's antecedents ; but the pious duchess, surrounded by the magnates of the Church, and Clotilde de Grandlieu supported him. Lucien explained this enmity by alluding to his affair with the cousin of Madame d'Espard, Madame de Bargeton, now Comtesse du Chatelet. Then, feeling the neces- sity of being admitted on terms of intimacy by so powerful a family, and prompted by his desire to win Clotilde, Lucien had the courage of parvenus; he called there five days out of seven every week ; he swallowed all indignities with a good grace, bore with impertinent glances, and answered slighting speeches with ready wit. His assiduity, the charm of his manners, and his appar- ent good-humor ended by neutralizing objections and lessening obstacles. Received by the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, Madame de Serizy, and Mademoiselle des Touches, Lucien, satisfied with admission to four such houses, learned from the abbe to put the greatest reserve and discretion into all his relations with them. M No one can devote himself to many houses at a time," said his private counsellor. " He who goes everywhere, never excites a real interest anywhere. Great people only protect those who frequent them, those they see every day ; individuals who manage to make themselves necessary to them, like the sofas on which they sit." Accustomed to consider the salon of the Grandlieus as his battlefield, Lucien reserved his wit, his clever sayings, and the courtier graces which characterized him for the hours that he spent there. Insinuating, caressing, and warned by Clotilde of the rocks around 110 Lucien de RubemprL him, he flattered the little foibles of the Due de Grand- lieu. Clotilde, who began by being jealous of Madame de Maufrigneuse, was now desperately in love with Lucien. Knowing well the advantages of such a mar- riage, Lucien played his r61e as a lover with all the charm of Armand, the new jeune premier of the Com- edie-Francaise. He went to mass every Sunday at Saint-Thomas d'Aquin ; he appeared in the character of an ardent Catholic ; he delivered himself of religious and monarchical precepts which did marvels for him. Moreover, he wrote quite remarkable articles in the journals devoted to the Congregation without being willing to take money for them, or to put any signa- ture but L. He also wrote political pamphlets required by the King or the Grand Almonry without asking the slightest recompense. "The King," he said, "has already done so much for me that I owe him my very blood." So, within a few days, it had been proposed to ap- point Lucien as private secretary to the prime-minister ; but Madame d'Espard hearing of this, put so many per- sons at work against Lucien that the Maitre Jacques of Charles X. hesitated to take the step. Not only was Lucien's position scarcely defined enough as yet, but the question " What does he live on? " which came more and more to the surface as he raised himself in society, demanded an answer ; and benevolent curiosity as well as malicious curiosity, beginning to investigate, found more than one flaw in his armor. Clotilde de Grandlieu served her father and mother as an innocent spy. A few days earlier she had taken Lucien aside into the recess of a window, and had there told him of the family objections. Lucien de Bubempre. Ill " Obtain an estate worth a million and you may have my hand ; that is my mother's answer," said Clotilde. "They'll ask you later where the money comes from," said the abbe, when Lucien reported to him Clotilde' s speech. " My brother-in-law, David Sechard, must have made his fortune by this time," said Lucien. "I'll take him for my responsible editor." "Then nothing is wanting to your triumph but that million," the abbe cried. " I must think about getting it." To explain Lucien's exact position at the h6tel de Grandlieu, it must be told that he had never dined there. Neither Clotilde nor the Duchesse d'Uxelles, nor Madame de Maufrigneuse, who always continued a good friend to Lucien, could persuade the old duke to grant them that favor, for he persisted in distrust- ing the man whom he called the " Sieur de Rubempre." This cloud, noticed by all who frequented the salon, was sharply wounding to Lucien's self-love ; he felt he was only tolerated there after all. The world is right to be exacting, for it is often deceived. To cut a figure in Paris without known means, without an acknowledged profession, is a position which no schem- ing can long maintain. Therefore Lucien, in raising himself socially gave additional strength to the objec- tion, " What does he live on?" He had been forced into saying at the house of Madame de Serizy, — to whom he owed the support of the attorney-general Granville, and of a minister of State, Comte Octave de Bauvan, — "J am dreadfully in debt." As he now entered the court-yard of the h6tel where 112 Lucien de HubemprS. lay the hope and triumph of all his vanities, he said to himself, bitterly, thinking of Trompe-la-Mort's words, 44 1 hear the whole thing cracking under my feet." He loved Esther, but he wanted Mademoiselle de Grandlieu for his wife. Strange situation, — he must sell one to obtain the other! Only one man could make that traffic without his own honor suffering ; that man was Jacques Collin. Ought they not, therefore, to be as cautious and silent one toward the other as one for the other? Life does not offer two compacts of this nature in which a man is alternately the master and the slave. Reaching the h6tel de Grandlieu, Lucien shook off the clouds that darkened his brow, and entered the salon gay and radiant. At this moment the windows were open, the fra- grance from the garden perfumed the room, the plant- stand, which occupied the centre of it, was a pyramid of bloom. The duchess, seated on a sofa in a corner, was talking with the Duchesse de Chaulieu. Several women made a group around her, remarkable for divers attitudes conveying the expressions which each gave to simulated grief. In society no one is really inter- ested in misfortunes or suffering ; sentiments are mere words. The men were walking about the salon or in the garden. Clotilde and Josephine were sitting at the tea-table. The Vidame de Pamiers, the Due de Grandlieu, the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto, and the Due de Maufrigneuse were playing wish (sic) in a corner. When Lucien was announced, he crossed the salon and bowed to the duchess, asking her the cause of the affliction expressed upon her face. Lucien de Rubempre. 113 " Madame de Chaulieu has received some dreadful news. Her son-in-law, the Baron de Macumer, ex- Duc de Soria, has just died. The young Due de Soria and his wife, who had gone to Chantepleurs to be with him, have written the sad news. Louise is in a heart- rending state." " A woman is not loved twice in her life as Louise was by him," said Madeline de Mortsauf. " She will be a rich widow," remarked the old Duchesse d'Uxelles, with a glance at Lucien, whose face continued impassible. " Poor Louise ! " exclaimed Madame d'Espard. " I understand her, and I pity her." The Marquise d'Espard, as she said these words, had the thoughtful look of a woman full of heart and soul. Though Sabine de Grandlieu was only ten years old, she looked at her mother with an intelligent eye, the almost mocking expression of which was reproved by a glance from the duchess. This is what is called " bringing up your children well." " If my daughter survives this blow," said Madame de Chaulieu, with a most maternal air, " her future will make me very uneasy. Louise is too romantic." "I am sure I don't know," said the Duchesse d'Uxelles, " from whom our daughters get that characteristic." " It is difficult in these days," said an old cardinal, " to make the demands of the heart and the conven- tions of society agree." Lucien, who had nothing to say on this topic, went to the tea-table to pay his respects to the Demoiselles cle Grandlieu. When the poet was at sufficient dis- 114 Lucien de Eubetnpre. tance from the group of women, the Marquise d'Es- pard leaned forward to the ear of the Duchesse de Grandlieu. "Then you really think that man is very much in love with your dear Clotilde ? " she said. The perfidy of this question can only be understood after reading a sketch of Clotilde. This young lady, about twenty-seven years of age, was then standing up ; an attitude which allowed the sarcastic glance of the Marquise d'Espard to observe the whole of her lank, lean form, which somewhat resembled that of asparagus. Her bust was so flat that it did not allow of those colonial resources which dressmakers caWjlchus menteurs. In fact Clotilde, who knew the all- sufficing advantages of her name and rank, so far from being at the pains to disguise this defect, heroically allowed it to be fully perceptible. By wearing her gowns made tight and plain, she conveyed the effect of those stiff, rigid forms which the sculptors of the middle-ages placed in the niches of the cathedrals. Clotilde was four feet five inches in height. If it is permissible to make use of a familiar expression, which has the merit of being easily understood, she was all legs. This fault of proportion gave the upper part of her body the effect of being slightly deformed. A brunette in complexion, with wiry black hair, very thick eyebrows, ardent eyes revolving in orbits that were already charring, the face arched at the top of the prominent forehead like the moon in its first quar- ter, she presented a curious caricature of her mother, who had been one of the handsomest women in Por- tugal. Nature seems to take delight in such freaks. Zucien de Rubempre. 115 We often see in families a sister of surprising beauty, while the same cast of feature in a brother will be absolute ugliness, although they may strongly resemble each other. Clotilde's mouth, which was very much drawn in, had a stereotyped expression of disdain. Her lips betrayed, more than any other feature of her face, the secret movements of her heart ; affection gave them at times a delightful expression, all the more remarkable because her cheeks, too brown to blush, and her black, hard eyes said nothing. In spite of all these disadvantages, in spite of her plank- like rigidity, she derived from her race and her educa- tion an air of grandeur, a lofty countenance, and the nameless something, well-called the je ne sais quoi (due, perhaps, to the frankness of her gown), which marked her as the daughter of a noble house. She made the most of her hair, which in length and vigor might have been called a- beauty. Her voice, which she had cultivated, was charming, and she sang delightfully. "Why shouldn't he be in love with my poor Clo- tilde? " replied the duchess. " Do you know what she said yesterday? 'If I am loved for ambition, I will take care that I am loved for myself as well.' She is witty and ambitious ; there are many men to whom those qualities are pleasing. As for that young man, my dear, he is as beautiful as a dream ; and if he can buy back the Rubempre estate, the King will restore to him, for our sakes, the title of marquis. After all, his mother was the last Rubempre." " Poor fellow, where will he get the million? " said the marquise. 116 Lucien de BubemprS. "That's not our affair," returned the duchess, laughing; " but he certainly will not steal it. You may be sure we shall not give Clotilde to an adven- turer, or a dishonest man, were he as beautiful, poet- ical, and charming as Monsieur de Rubempre." " You are late," said Clotilde, smiling at Lucien with infinite grace. " Yes, I dined out." " You go a great deal into society of late," she said, concealing her jealousy and her anxiety beneath a smile. " Society! " exclaimed Lucien. " No, I have only by mere chance dined all the week with bankers ; to-day with Nucingen, yesterday with du Tillet, the day before with the Hellers." Observe that Lucien had learned to take the super- cilious tone of grands seigneurs. " You have many enemies," said Clotilde, offering him a cup of tea. " Some one has told my father that you have sixty thousand francs of debt, and that be- fore long you will be in Sainte-Pelagie. If you knew what these calumnies cost me ! The blame all falls on me. I will not speak to you of what I suffer (my father gives me looks which torture me), but of what you must suffer if there is any truth at all in such a rumor." " Don't trouble yourself about such nonsense ; love me as I love you, and trust me for a few weeks longer," said Lucien, setting down his empty cup on the silver salver. " Pray do not speak to my father to-night, or he may answer you with some impertinence which you Lucien de Bubempre. 117 will be unable to bear, and then we are lost. That malicious Marquise d'Espard told him that your mother nursed women in childbirth and that your sister was a washerwoman." "We were in the deepest poverty," replied Lucien, the tears rushing to his eyes. " That was not calumny, only ill-natured gossip. To-day my sister is more than a millionnaire ; my mother died two years ago. Spite- ful persons have withheld this information until I was on the point of succeeding here." " But what have you done to Madame d'Espard? " " I had the imprudence to relate at Madame de Serizy's, before Monsieur de Granville, the story of the suit she brought against her husband to obtain the injunction, the facts of which had been confided to me by Bianchon. Monsieur de Granville's opinion changed that of the Keeper of the Seals. They both drew back, fearing the i Gazette des Tribunaux ' and the scandal, and the marquise was rapped over the knuckles in the verdict which put an end to that dread- ful business. Though Monsieur de Serizy committed an indiscretion which made the marquise my mortal enemy, I, at any rate, gained his protection, and that of the attorney-general, and also that of Comte Octave de Bauvan, to whom Madame de Serizy told the peril in which they had put me by revealing the source of their information. Monsieur le Marquis d'Espard had the want of tact to pay me a visit of acknowledgment, as the cause of his triumph in that infamous suit." " I will deliver you from Madame d'Espard," said Clotilde. " Ah ! and how ? " cried Lucien. 118 Lucie n de Eubempre. " My mother shall invite the little d'Espards here; they are charming and nearly grown up. The father and the sons will sing your praises, and then we are certain not to see the mother." "Oh! Clotilde, you are adorable, and if I did not love you for yourself, I should love you for your wit aud sense." " It is neither wit nor sense," she said, putting all her love upon her lips. "Adieu; don't return here for several days. When you see me at Saint-Thomas d'Aquin wearing a pink scarf you will know that my father has changed his tone." The young lady seemed from this speech to be more than twenty-seven years of age. Lucien took a hackney-coach at the rue de la Planche, left it on the boulevards, took another near the Made- leine and told the man to drive into the court-yard in the rue Taitbout. He entered Esther's room at eleven o'clock and found her in tears, but dressed as if she wished to make a festival of his coming. When the door opened, she wiped away her tears and sprang forward to Lucien, wrapping her arms about him as a silken tissue caught up by the wind winds itself round a tree. " Parted ! " she cried. " Is it true ? " " Pooh ! only for a few days," replied Lucien. Esther released him from her arms and fell back upon the sofa as if dead. She said not a word ; she lay with her face pressed into the cushions, weeping hot tears. Lucien tried to raise and soothe her. " My child, we are not separated. What ! after five years of happiness is this how you take a little absence ? Lucien de Eubempre. 119 Ah! "thought he, remembering Coralie ; "how is it that these women love me so?" The senses have their beau ideal. When to so much beauty is added sweetness of nature and the poetic charm which distinguished Lucien, we can conceive the fond passion of these poor women, so sensitive to ex- ternal natural gifts and so naive in their admiration. Esther sobbed gently, and lay without moving in an attitude of the deepest sorrow. " But, my child," said Lucien, " did he not tell you that it concerns my very life ? " At these words, said intentionally by Lucien, Esther sprang up, like some wild animal ; her hair, which had fallen loose, surrounded her beautiful face like foliage. She looked at Lucien with a fixed eye. " Your life ! " she cried, raising her arms and letting them fall again, with a gesture which belongs only to a woman in danger. " True ; that savage wrote it." She drew a paper from her belt. 11 See," she said, " this is what he wrote," giving Lucien a letter which the abbe had sent to her. Lucien read it aloud : — " You will leave Paris to-morrow, at five in the morning. A carriage will be sent to take you to a house in the forest of Saint-Germain. There you will have an apartment on the first floor. Do not leave it until I permit you. You will want for nothing. The keeper of the house and his wife are trustworthy. Do not write to Lucien. Keep the carriage blinds down as you drive there. This matter concerns Lucien's life. " Lucien will see you to-night to say farewell ; burn this letter in his presence." 120 Lucien de Eubempre. Lucien instantly burned the letter at the flame of a candle. " Hear me, my Lucien," said Esther, having listened to the reading of the note as a criminal listens to his sentence of death. " I will not tell you that I love you ; it would be silly to do so. It is now five years that to love you has seemed to me as natural as to breathe, or live. Since that first day when my happiness began, under the protection of that inexplicable being who put me here like some curious little animal in a cage, I knew that you would marry. Marriage is necessary to your destiny, and God keep me from hindering the development of your career. This marriage is death to me ; but I will not harass you ; I shall not do as the grisettes, who smother themselves with pans of char- coal, — once was enough for that. No, I shall go far away, out of France. I only ask one thing, my angel, my adored ; it is that you will not deceive me. I have had my share of life ; since the day I first saw you in 1824 until to-day, I have had more happiness than there is in ten lives of other happy women. There- fore, judge me for what I am, — a woman both strong and weak. Say to me, 'lam to marry ; ' I will ask you only for a tender, a very tender farewell, and you shall never hear of me again." There was a moment's silence after these words, the sincerity of which was deepened by tones and gesture. " Does it concern your marriage?" she asked, plunging her compelling eyes, brilliant as the blade of a dagger, into the brilliant eyes of the man before her. Lucien de Rubempre. 121 " For the last eighteen months we have certainly been working for my marriage, but it is not arranged," replied Lucien, " and I do not know when it will be. But that is not the present matter, my dear child, which concerns the abbe and me and you. We are threatened with a great danger, — Nucingen has seen you." "Yes, I know," she said, — "at Vincennes. Did he recognize me?" "No," said Lucien, "but he has fallen frantically in love with you. After dinner, when he described 3 7 ou, 1 let a smile escape me, — an involuntary and most imprudent smile ; for I live in the midst of social life like a savage, perpetually in fear of the traps of enemies. The abbe, who takes the burden of thinking from me,, considers the situation dangerous ; he takes upon himself to baffle Nucingen if Nucingen attempts to spy upon us ; and the baron is quite capable of that. He said something to-night about the stupidity of the police. You have set on fire a chimney full of soot." " What does the abbe mean to do?" asked Esther, very gently. " I don't know ; he told me to keep quiet, and see nothing of Esther." " If that is so, I obey with the submission that is my pride," she said, passing her arm through that of Lucien and leading him to her room. " Did you have a good dinner, my Lulu, with your infamous Nucingen? " "Asia's cooking prevents one from thinking any dinner good, however famous the cook may be ; but Careme sent up the usual Sunday dinner." 122 Lucien de BubemprS. Lucien involuntarily compared Esther with Clotilde. The first was so beautiful, so constantly charming, that the monster of satiety had never once approached him. " What a pity," he said to himself, " to be forced to have one's wife in two volumes ! Here, poetry, pleas- ure, love, devotion, beauty, charm ; there, noble blood, race, honors, rank, and knowledge of the world. And no way of uniting them in a single person ! " The next day when he woke, at seven in the morn- ing, in that charming room, all white and rose, the poet was alone. When he rang, Europe came in. 11 Where is your mistress?" 11 Madame left the house at a quarter to five, ac- cording to the orders of Monsieur l'abbe, who sent a carriage." Lucien de Eubempre. 123 VIII. FALSE NOTES, FALSE DEBTS, AND A CRAVEN HEART. The day after Esther was removed to Saint-Germain, the terrible and inexplicable man, who weighed upon her heart and ruled her fate, came to her with three stamped papers, which he requested her to sign, bear- ing the words, on the first, " Accepted for sixty thou- sand francs ; " on the second, " Accepted for one hundred and twenty thousand francs ; " on the third, " Accepted for one hundred and twenty thousand francs." In all, three hundred thousand francs. When the words " good for " are used, a simple note is drawn; but the word "accepted" constitutes a bill of exchange, which, if unmet, subjects the drawer to arrest. That single word makes a person who igno- rantly or imprudently signs it liable to five years' imprisonment, — a penalty seldom inflicted in the cor- rectional police courts, and which the court of assizes only inflicts on criminals. The law as to imprison- ment for debt is a relic of barbarism, which adds to its stupidity the merit of being useless, for it never touches real swindlers. " The object is," said the former galley-slave, " to extricate Lucien from his embarrassments. We have sixty thousand francs of debt hanging over us ; but with these three hundred thousand francs he can clear himself and start again." 124 Lucien de RulemprS. After antedating the bills of exchange by six months, the abbs' made them drawn on Esther by a man who never fell into the hands of the police of Paris, and whose adventures, in spite of the noise they made, were speedily forgotten, lost, and covered up by the racket of the great symphony of July, 1830. This young man, one of the most audacious swin- dlers who ever lived, the son of a clerk at Boulogne, near Paris, was named Georges-Marie Destourny. The father, obliged to sell his clerkship for very little, died about 1824, and left his son without resources, after giving him that brilliant education for the world which the folly of the lesser bourgeoisie covets for their sons. At twenty-three, the young and brilliant pupil at the law-school had repudiated his father by printing his name on his cards as " Georges d'Es- tourn}'." This card gave him a fragrance of aristoc- racy. He became a frequenter of clubs, and acquired a groom and a tilbury. One word will explain all. He gambled at the Bourse with the money entrusted to him by courtesans, whose agent he was. He was finally in danger from the correctional police, and, when obliged to fly, neglected to pay up his " differ- ences " at the Bourse. He had accomplices, — young men corrupted by him, his henchmen, and the sharers of his elegance and credit. When he fled, the Paris of the boulevards trembled. In the days of his splendor, Georges d'Estourny, handsome, good-natured, and generous as a robber-chief, had protected La Torpille for several months. The abbe based his speculation on this acquaintance. Georges d'P^stourny, whose ambition was emboldened Lucien de Rulempre. 125 by success, had taken under his protection a man from the departments whom the liberal party wished to in- demnify for an imprisonment bravely, it was said, incurred in the struggle of the press against the gov- ernment of Charles X. The Sieur Cerizet, called the "courageous Cerizet," was pardoned. Now Cerizet, patronized for form's sake by the magnates of the Left, had opened a sort of agency, which combined bank- ing, brokerage, and a commission business. Cerizet was very glad at that time to ally himself with Georges d'Estourny, who trained him. Esther, in virtue of the old story of Ninon, might very well be supposed to be the depositary of a part of d'Estourny's fortune. An endorsement by Georges d'Estourny made the abbe mas- ter of the notes he had created. The forgery was no risk if Esther, or some one on her behalf, paid the notes. After obtaining full information as to Cerizet' s busi- ness, Jacques Collin perceived that he was one of those obscure individuals who are determined to make their fortunes, but — legally. Cerizet, who was the real depositary of d'Estourny's gains, held for him as locum tenens certain important securities which were waiting for a rise at the Bourse, and which enabled Cerizet to call himself a banker. Such things are done every day in Paris. The man may be despised, but not his money. Jacques Collin now went to see Cerizet, in- tending to make use of him after his fashion ; for he was, by a lucky chance, master of the secrets of this worthy associate of d'Estourny. The courageous Cerizet lived in an entresol in the rue du Gros-Chenet, and the abbe, having ordered the servant to announce him as coming from Monsieur d'Estourny, found the 126 Lucien de Rubempre. so-called banker quite pale with fear at this announce- ment, and recognized at a glance, from the description given him by Lucien, the Judas of David Sechard. " Can we talk here without danger of being over- heard?" said the abbe', transformed, however, into an Englishman with red hair, blue spectacles, and as clean and neat as a puritan going to meeting. " Why so, monsieur?" asked Cerizet. "Who are you?" "Mr. William Barker, creditor of Monsieur d'Es- tourny. But I '11 show you the necessity of closing the door if you desire it. We know, monsieur, what were your relations with Petit-Claud, the Cointets, and the Sechards at Angouleme." At these words Cerizet jumped to the door and closed it, after which he went to the door of an inner room and bolted that. Then he said to the stranger: "Speak low, monsieur," adding, as he examined the false Englishman, "What do you want with me?" " Well," said William Barker, " every man for him- self in this world. You have the securities of that rascal d'Estourny in your hands — Oh ! don't be afraid, I have not come to ask for thern ; but, pressed by me, that swindler, who, between ourselves, deserves the halter, has given me these notes which he thinks I may be able to get paid; and as I don't want to sue the person in my own name, he told me that you would let me use yours." Cerizet looked at the letters of exchange. " But he 's no longer at Frankfort," he said. " I know that," said Barker, " but he might have been at the date of these notes." Lucien de Bubempre. 127 " I don't want to make myself responsible," said Cerizet. " I don't ask for any such sacrifice ; hut you can he empowered to receive them. Receipt for them, and I will see that they are paid." "I am surprised that d'Estourny should show so little confidence in me," remarked Cerizet. "He knows a good deal," said the Englishman, significantly. " I don't blame him for not wishing to put all his eggs in one basket." "Do you think — " began the little peddler in business, returning the letters of exchange duly ac- knowledged and signed. " I think that you take good care of his funds," said the Englishman. "In fact I am sure of it; they are already staked on the green table of the Bourse." " My interest is — " "To lose them, ostensibly," said William Barker. "Monsieur ! " cried Cerizet. " Look here, my dear Monsieur Cerizet," said Barker, coolly, interrupting the little man, " you can do me a service by facilitating this payment. Have the kindness to write me a letter in which you say you consign these notes to me, receipted for by you on d'Estourny's account, and add that the sheriff's officer is to consider the bearer of the letter as the owner of the three notes." " Tell me your name." " Never mind names," said Barker ; " say ' the bearer of this letter and the three notes.' You shall be paid for this service.". " How? " asked Cerizet. 128 Lucien de Rubempri. " With a word in your ear. You intend to remain in France, don't you? " " Yes." " Well ; Georges d'Estourny will never return here." "Why not?" " Because there are more than half a dozen persons who, to my knowledge, will kill him, and he knows it." M Then I 'm not surprised he has told me to send him an outfit for India," cried Cerizet. " He has unluckily compelled me to invest all his property in the Funds. We are already debtors for differences. I live from hand to mouth." " Get out of the scrape yourself." 4k Ah ! if I had only known it earlier ! " cried Cerizet. " I have missed a fortune." " One word more," said Barker. "Prudence — you are capable of that — and (what I am not so sure about) fidelity ! Adieu ; we shall meet again, and I '11 help you to make your fortune." Having cast into that soul of mud a hope which might secure its prudence and fidelity for some little time, Barker went off to a sheriff's officer on whom he could rely, and ordered him to get the various judg- ments through the courts against Esther. " The money will be paid," he said ; " it is an affair of honor, and we want it done legally." The sheriff's officer, thus instructed took the neces- sary steps, and being requested to act politely, put the various summons in an envelope and went himself to the rue Taitbout to seize the furniture ; Europe received him. The preliminaries of the arrest for debt being thus laid, Esther was ostensibly under the sword of Lucien de Ruhempre. 129 some three hundred thousand francs of undeniable debt. Jacques Collin did not invent the situation. The vaudeville of false debts is often played in Paris. There are many sub Gobsecks and sub-Gigonuets who, for a premium, will play the trick. Maxime de Trailles had sometimes made use of this means, and played new comedies to the old score. Carlos Herrera, however, who wished to save both the honor of his cloth and Lucien's honor, had recourse to a forgery without risk, though it is now so often practised that the law is beginning to interfere. There is, they say, a Bourse for false notes in the neighborhood of the Palais Royal, where for three francs any one can buy a signature. Having thus laid his plans to secure three hundred thousand of the million necessary to the purchase of the property required by the Grandlieus, the abbe determined to get another hundred thousand out of Monsieur de Nucingen as a preliminary. In this way. By his orders, Asia paid a visit to the baron in the character of an old woman cognizant of the affairs of the girl in search of whom Nucingen was now employing the police. Up to the present time various writers on manners and morals have described many usurers ; but the female usurer who traffics with her sex has been neg- lected. She is called decently a marchande de toilette; and this was the part which Asia was now about to play. " You are to put yourself in the skin of Madame de Saint-Esteve," he said. He insisted on seeing her dressed for the part ; and 9 130 Lucien de BubemprS. she came in a gown of flowered damask, made appar- ently from the curtains of some boudoir that had come under the hammer, wearing one of those faded, worn, unsalable shawls which end their lives on the backs of such women. She wore a collarette of splendid but ragged lace, and a shocking bonnet; but her shoes were of Irish kid, round the edges of which her flesh puffed out like a cushion, covered with open-work black silk stockings. " Look at the buckle of my belt," she said, pointing to an article of questionable jewelry which her portly stomach pushed forwards. " Hein ! what style! And the false front, — doesn't it make me fine and ugly?" " Mind that you are honey itself, at first," said the abbe. "Be almost timid, wary as a cat, and, above all, make the baron ashamed of having employed the police ; but don't seem to fear them. Make him un- derstand, in terms more or less clear, that you defy all the police in the world to discover where she is. Hide your traces. When the baron has given you a chance to put on the screws, get insolent, and work him like a lacquey." Nucingen, threatened by Asia that if he watched her he should never see her again, and would thus lose all trace of Esther, met her, mysteriously, in a wretched apartment in the rue Neuve-Saint-Marc, lent by some one, but by whom the baron was unable to ascertain. There "Madame de Saint-Esteve " led him through various stages of hope and despair, playing one against the other, until the baron was brought to the point of offering any price for information about his undiscov- erable beauty. Lucien de Bubempre. 131 During this time the sheriff's officer was proceeding through the various legal steps (meeting, of course, with no opposition from the unconscious Esther) which were necessary to make the arrest in due course of law. Lucien, accompanied, or rather conducted, by the abbe, had paid poor Esther some five or six visits in her retreat at Saint-Germain. The cruel conductor of these machinations had judged a few such interviews necessary to prevent Esther from fading away, for her beauty now represented to him capital. On the last of these visits he took Lucien and the poor girl along a deserted road to an open spot whence they could see Paris, and where no one could overhear them. All three sat down on the trunk of a fallen poplar, facing the magnificent landscape, one of the finest in the world, which takes in the valley of the Seine, Montmartre, Paris, and Saint-Denis. " My children," said the abbe, " your dream is over. You, my dear, will never see Lucien again ; or, if you do see him, you must only have known him five years ago for a short time." " My death has come at last/' she said, without a tear. " Well, you have been ill five years," said the abbe. " Fancy yourself consumptive, and die without boring us with elegies. But you will soon see that it is worth your while to live, and live splendidly. Leave us, Lucien ; go and gather sonnets," he said, pointing to a meadow not far distant. Lucien cast upon Esther an imploring look, one of those craven looks proper to weak and covetous men, 132 Lucien de BubemprS. — men who are full of tenderness in the heart and baseness in the character. Esther answered by a sign of her head, which seemed to say, 44 I will listen to the executioner, and learn how to lay my head upon the block, and I will have the courage to die well." The gesture was so gracious, and yet so full of hor- ror, that the poet wept. Esther ran to him, took him in her arms, and drank his tears. "Don't suffer!" she said, — one of those sayings which are uttered with the gestures and the glance and the voice of delirium. The abbe at once explained to her clearly, suc- cinctly, without ambiguity, often with horribly plain words, Lucien's critical situation, his position at the h6tel de Grandlieu, his splendid life in case of tri- umph, and the absolute necessity that Esther should sacrifice herself to this magnificent future. 44 What must I do?" she cried, spell-bound. " Obey blindly," said Jacques Collin. " Why should you complain? It rests with you to have a splendid future. You shall become what your former friends — Tullia, Mariette, Florine, and the Val-Noble — now are, the mistress of a rich man whom you do not love. Our money once obtained, he is rich enough to give you everything to make you happy." " Happy ! " she said, raising her eyes to heaven. 44 You have had five years of paradise," he said. 44 Cannot you live on those memories? You owe them to Lucien ; will you now destroy his career ? " 44 I will obey you," she replied, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. 4i Do not be uneasy. You said true ; my love is a mortal disease." Lucien de Eubempre. 133 '* But that is not all," said the master of her fate ; " you must continue beautiful. At twenty-two years of age you are at your highest point of beauty, thanks to your love. In short, make yourself once more La Torpille. Be lively, whimsical, extravagant, scheming, and pitiless to the millionnaire whom I will send you. Listen to me ; that man has been pitiless to many. He has enriched himself with the money of widows and orphans ; you will be their vengeance ! Asia will come here this evening with a coach and take you to Paris. If you allow a suspicion of your past relations to Lucien to get abroad, you might as well put a pistol shot through his head. People will ask you where you have been during the last five years ; you must answer that an Englishman took you to travel. You had plenty of wit in former days for foolery ; have it again." Did you ever see a glittering kite, that giant butter- fly of our infancy, sparkling with gold, and soaring toward heaven? The child forgets the cord for an instant ; it slips from his hand, the meteor pitches — as we say in school-boy language — downward, and falls with terrifying rapidity. Such was Esther as she listened to that man. 134 Lucien de Bubempre. IX. A HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS INVESTED IN ASIA. For more than a week Nucingen bargained almost daily at the house in the rue Neuve-Saint-Marc for the delivery of the woman he desired. There sat Asia in the midst of handsome garments and finery that have reached the horrid stage in which they are no longer gowns and garlands, but are not yet tatters. The frame was in keeping with the face of the woman now occupying it; these shops, called those of the "marchandes de toilettes," are among the most awful and sinister peculiarities of Paris. Here we see the last frippery of a human life cast by death's fleshless fingers ; we hear the rattle of consumptive lungs beneath a shawl ; we divine the anguish of pov- erty in those pawned glittering gowns. The cruel struggle between Luxury and Hunger is written on many a flimsey lace. The countenance of one who was a queen is beneath that plumed turban, the pose of which recalls, nay, almost replaces, the absent face. *T is the hideous in the brilliant ! The lash of Juvenal, in the hands of the official auctioneer, scat- ters about these moth-eaten muffs and faded furs of despairing Messalinas. 'T is a manure-heap of flowers where, here and there, glow the roses cut but yester- day, and worn but a single day; over which an old Lucien de Rubempre. 135 woman ever crouches, cousin-german to the usurer, a bald and toothless crone, waiting to sell its contents, — the gown without the woman, the woman without the gown. Asia was there like the keeper of the galleys, like the vulture with its beak reddened upon corpses, — there in the bosom of her element, more awful even than the savage horrors in the midst of which these women ply their trade. From one irritation to another, adding ten thousand to ten thousand, the banker at last offered sixty thou- sand francs to kl Madame de Saint-Esteve," who re- fused with a grimace that might have rivalled that of a dog-faced monkey. After an agitated night, in which he recognized what disorder this*vehement de- sire was working in his brain, and after a day of unexpected gains at the Bourse, he arrived one morn- ing with the intention of paying the hundred thousand francs demanded by Asia ; but he was also determined to drag out of her a vast amount of information. " So you've made up your mind, you old rogue," said Asia, tapping him on the shoulder. The most degrading familiarity is the first tax which women of this sort levy on the unbridled passions, or the abject miseries which intrust themselves to their hands. They never rise to the level of their clients ; they make them sit down beside them on their muck- heap. Asia, as we see, was obeying her master strictly. " I 'm forced to," replied Nucingen. " Well, you are not robbed," returned Asia ; " many women are sold much dearer, relatively. It is true 136 Lucien de Rubempre. you pay a hundred thousand francs for her at the first start ; but what 's that to you, old croaker?" " Where is she?" " Ah! you shall see her. I'm like you, — nothing for nothing. Ah, qa! my old man; your beauty has got into trouble. 'T is n't reasonable in young girls ; but she is just now what we call a night-bird." " A what?" u Come, now, don't play the ninny. She has got Louchard at her heels. I 've lent her, myself, fifty thousand francs." " Twenty-five, more likely ! " cried the banker. " Parbleu! twenty-five for fifty, of course," replied Asia. " To do her justice, she is honesty itself. She had nothing to pay with but herself, and so she came to me and said, ' My dear Madame Saint-Esteve, I am sued ; and not a soul can help me but you. Give me twenty thousand francs, and take a mortgage on my heart.' Oh, she 's got a good heart ! Nobody but me knows where she is, because she 's hiding, you see ; and if the police were to find it out I should lose my twenty thousand francs. She used to live in the rue Taitbout ; but they 've put an execution in there and seized her furniture, — those rascally sheriffs ! And now they talk of selling it." " So you play banker, do you? " said Nucingen. " Of course I do," returned Asia. " I lend to pretty women, and they return it ; that 's how I dis- count two notes at once." " Well, if I promise you that hundred thousand francs, where shall I see her?" he cried, with the ges- ture of a man who decides to make every sacrifice. Lucien de Eubempre. 137 " "Well, old fellow, come this evening in a carriage, and wait for me opposite to the Gymnase. It is on the road," said Asia. u Stop at the corner of the rue Saint-Barbe. I '11 be there, and we '11 go and find my mortgage with the black hair. Oh, such hair, — my mortgage ! If she takes out her comb it rolls all over her like a flag. But I advise you to hide her away carefully ; for, though you 're a banker, you seem to me rather a nincompoop in other ways. I warn you they '11 clap her into Sainte-Pelagie if they find her ; and they are looking for her everywhere." " I can arrange all that," said the banker, " when it is once understood that I 'm her protector." At nine o'clock that evening he found Asia at the appointed place, and took her into the carriage. i ' Where ? " said the baron. " Where?" repeated Asia, — "rue de la Perle, in the Marais ; only a stopping-place. Your pearl is in the mud ; but you '11 wash it off." When they reached the place she said, with a fright- ful grin: "Now we'll go a little way on foot; I'm not such a fool as to give the right address." M You think of everything," said the baron. u That's my business," she replied. Asia took him to the rue Barbette, where, in a fur- nished house, kept by an upholsterer of the neighbor- hood, he was taken up to the fourth floor. When he saw Esther in a meanly furnished room, dressed as a working-girl, and doing some embroidery, the million- naire turned pale. At the end of a quarter of an hour, during which time Asia had made conversation with Esther, the old man could scarcely speak. 138 Lucien de Rubempre. " Mademoiselle," he said at last to the poor girl, " will you have the kindness to accept me for your protector ? " " I must, monsieur," said Esther, two heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. M Do not weep ; I will make you the happiest of women. Only let me love you, and you shall see." " My dear," said Asia, " monsieur is very reasonable ; he knows he is over sixty-five, and he will be very in- dulgent. In short, my little angel, I have found you a father. Better tell her that," she whispered to the surprised banker; " you can't catch swallows with pistol-shots. Come here," she added, dragging Nuein- gen into the next room, — " you remember our little agreement, old man ? " Nucingen drew from the pocket of his coat a port- folio, out of which he took and counted the hundred thousand francs, which the abbe, hidden in a closet, was awaiting with keen impatience, and which Asia presently made over to him. 11 Here 's the hundred thousand francs our man in- vests in Asia," he said to her when they reached the landing ; " now he must be made to invest in Europe." He disappeared after giving his instructions to the woman, who re-entered the room where Esther was weeping bitterly. The girl, like a criminal condemned to death, had made a romance of hope, but the fatal hour had come. " My dear children," said Asia, " where will you go? for you cannot stay in such a place as this. Ma- dame's former maid," she added, addressing Nucin- gen, " can take you in at madame's old lodgings in Lucien de Bubempre. 139 the rue Taitbout. Louchard and the sheriff's officer will never think of looking for her there — " "That will do! that will do!" cried the banker. " Besides, I know Louchard, who is a commercial guard, very well. I have ways of getting rid of him." Asia took Nucingen aside, and said : — " For five hundred francs a month paid to Eugenie, who is making her pile fast, you can know everything that madame does. Keep her as madame's maid ; but put a curb on her. She 's all for money, that girl, — horrid ! " "What of you?" "I?" said Asia, — "I'm only paying myself back." Nucingen, sly and cautious as he was, had a band- age about his eyes, and let himself be managed like an infant. "Will you come to the rue Taitbout?" he said to Esther. " Where you please, monsieur," she replied, rising. " Where I please ! " he replied, with delight. " You are an angel from heaven, whom I love as if I were a young man, though my hair is gray." " Gray ! " cried Asia, " better say white. It is dyed too black a black to be only gray." "Go, you vile seller of human flesh! You have your money ; don't come near this flower again," cried the banker, revenging himself by this apostrophe for all the insolence she had made him bear. Then he gave his arm to Esther and took her as she was to the carriage, with more respect, perhaps, than he would have shown to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. 140 Lucien de Bubempre. When they reached the rue Taitbout, Esther was overcome by the sorrowful impressions produced upon her by the scene of her happiness. She sat down on a sofa, motionless, brushing away her tears as they fell, and not even hearing one word of the professions which the baron was stammering at her feet. She let him stay there without notice ; she left her hands in his when he took them, unconscious who, or of what sex, the creature was who knelt beside her. This scene of scalding tears falling on the baron's head, and en- treaties on his part, lasted more than an hour. At last he called to Europe. " Eugenie," he said, " persuade your mistress to listen to me." M No," cried Esther, springing up like a frightened horse, u never here ! " " Listen to me, monsieur," said Europe. " I know madame ; she is good and gentle as a lamb. But you must n't be rough ; you must take the right way with her. She has been so unhappy here ! See how shabby this furniture is. Let her follow her own ideas now. Find some pretty house for her and arrange it nicely. When she sees everything new about her she '11 feel differently ; I dare say she '11 think you better than you are, and be as gentle as an angel. Madame has n't her equal for goodness ! You may boast of your ac- quisition, indeed, — such a kind heart, and pretty manners, ah, and wit enough to make a man laugh on his way to the scaffold ! And, then, does n't madame know how to dress ! But it is too bad, — all her pretty gowns are seized ! I know how she feels, for I love her ; she 's my mistress. A woman like her to see her- Lucien de fiubempre. 141 self here in the midst of her furniture attached by the sheriff ! You must be just to her, poor little woman ; she is not herself ! " "Esther, Esther," said the baron, "if it is I who frighten you, leave me ; go to your room. I will stay here alone," he cried, prompted by real love at the sight of her tears. " Ah," she said, taking his hand and kissing it with a gratitude that brought something like a tear to the eyes of the hard man of business, " I will thank you forever ! " and she fled to her chamber, where she locked herself in. " There is something inexplicable in all this," said Nucingen to himself, sitting down on the sofa. Then he rose and looked out of the window. It was just daylight. He walked about the room, and listened at the door of the chamber. " Esther ! " No answer. " She is weeping still ! " he cried, throwing himself on the sofa. Less than ten minutes after the sun rose the baron was roused with a bound by Europe, who rushed into the room crying out : — "Oh, madame, madame ! the soldiers! the police! They 've come to arrest you ! " At the moment when Esther opened her door and showed herself, with her dressing-gown hastily thrown on, her feet in slippers, and her hair in disorder, the door of the salon gave entrance to a crowd of officials and gendarmes. One of them, Contenson, a member of the detective police, went up to her and laid his hand upon her shoulder. "You are Mademoiselle Esther van Gobseck? " he said. 142 Lucien de Rubempre. Europe, with a back-handed blow upon his cheek, sent him reeling. "Back!" she cried; "you shall not touch my mistress." From the crowd of soldiers and bailiffs Louchard now advanced, with his hat on his head, laughing. 44 Mademoiselle," he said, 44 I arrest you. As for you, my girl," — this to Europe, — " obstruction will be punished, and resistance is useless." The sound of the muskets, as they were dropped on the tiles of the antechamber, showed the number of the guard, and enforced the words. 44 But why do you arrest me?" asked Esther. 44 How about our little debts? " asked Louchard. 44 Ah, true ! " cried Esther ; 44 let me dress myself." All this took place so rapidly that the baron had had no time to interfere. He now threw himself be- tween Esther and Louchard, who hastily took off his hat as Contenson called out : — 44 Monsieur le Baron de Nucingen." At a sign from Louchard the squad of men vacated the room. Contenson alone remained. 44 Will monsieur le baron pay?" asked the officer, hat in hand. 44 1 will pay," said the banker; 44 but I must knOw what all this means." " 4 The sum is three hundred and twelve thousand francs, costs of suits and of arrest not included." 44 Three hundred thousand francs ! " cried the baron ; 44 the sum is too high." 44 Oh, monsieur!" interrupted Europe, 44 can you have the heart to let my mistress go to prison? Take Lucien de Rubemjpre. 143 my wages, my savings, — take them, madame ; I have forty thousand francs." . " Ah, my poor girl, I have never done you justice ! " said Esther, pressing Europe in her arms. Europe burst into tears. " I will pay ! " said the baron, piteously, pulling out a cheque-book, and preparing to fill out a cheque. " Dont give yourself that trouble, monsieur le baron," said Louchard ; " my orders are to take noth- ing but gold or silver. But, as you are concerned in the matter. I will consent to receive bank-bills." "The devil!" cried the baron. "Show me the papers. Ah, my child," he said to Esther, as soon as he saw the bill of exchange bearing Georges d'Es- tourny's name, "you are the victim of a great scoun- drel, a swindler ! " " Alas ! yes," said poor Esther; " but he was fond of me once." " Will monsieur le baron write a line to his cashier? " said Louchard. "I'll send Contenson to him, and dismiss my men. It is getting late, and everybody will know — " "Right!" said Nucingen, "send at once; my cashier lives at the corner of the rue des Mathurins. I will give you a line, and he will bring the money." Louchard took the bills of exchange from the baron, and remained alone with him in the salon. Esther re- turned to her room. In about half an hour Contenson came back with the cashier. Esther then reappeared, having dressed herself. When Louchard had counted the money, and the bills were handed over to Nucin- gen, Esther seized them from him with the gesture of a kitten, and put them in her secretary. 144 Lucien de RubemprL Louchard departed, followed by Contenson ; but as soon as they reached the boulevard, Asia, who was on the watch, stopped them. " The agent and the creditor are here in a coach," she said. "They are thirsty for their property, and there 's money in it for you," she added. While Louchard counted out the money, Contenson examined the clients. He saw the abbd's eyes ; he noticed the shape of his forehead under the wig, and the wig seemed to him suspicious. He took the num- ber of the hackney-coach, while apparently indifferent to what was going on. Asia and Europe puzzled him to the last degree. He felt certain that the baron was being victimized by a very able set of rogues, — all the more because Louchard, in asking for his help, had been unusually reticent. The disguised abbe dismissed Louchard, paid him generously, and got into the hackney-coach, saying : — " Palais-Royal, — the portico ! " u Ah, the rascal ! " thought Contenson, overhearing the order; " there 's something under all this." The abbe reached the Palais- Royal at a pace that relieved hirn of all fear of being followed. He crossed the galleries after his own fashion, took another hack- ney-coach near the Chateau-d'Eau, saying, " Passage de l'Opera on the side of the rue Pinon." Fifteen minutes later he was back in the rue Taitbout. As soon as Esther saw him she cried out, giving him the bills of exchange : — 44 Here are those fatal papers ! " The abbe took them, looked them carefully over, and then went and burned them in the kitchen fire. Lucien de Rubempre. 145 "The trick is played," he said, showing the three hundred thousand francs rolled in a packet which he took from the pocket of his overcoat. "These and Asia's hundred thousand will enable us to act." "Oh, my God ! " cried poor Esther. "Idiot! " said the savage sharper, "be Nucingen's mistress ostensibly, and you can still see Lucien ; he is Nucingen's friend. I don't forbid your seeing him." Esther saw a faint ray of light in her darkness, and breathed freer. " Europe, my girl," said the abbe, taking the woman into the boudoir where not a word of the conversation could be overheard, " I am satisfied with you." Europe raised her head and looked at this man with an expression that so changed her blighted face that Asia, who was watching at the door, asked herself by what chain he held Europe which was stronger than that by which she herself was riveted to him. "But the thing is not all done yet," he went on. " Four hundred thousand francs are not enough for me. There 's a bill for silver-plate which amounts to thirty thousand francs, on which something has been paid ; but Biddin, the jeweller, has been put to some costs. The furniture will be attached by him to-mor- row. See him to-day ; he lives rue de l'Arbre-Sec. He will give you pawn-tickets of the Mont-de-Piete for ten thousand francs. You understand? Esther had the silver made, and has n't paid for it, but pawned it ; she is threatened with a complaint for swindling. Therefore he must pay thirty thousand to the jeweller, and ten thousand to the Mont-de-Piete, to recover the property. With the costs, that will be forty-three 10 146 Lucien de Eubempre. thousand francs. That plate has loads of alloy in it. The baron will want to replace it ; we can get a little off of him that way. You owe — how much for two years to the dressmaker? " 44 Six thousand francs or so," replied Europe. 14 Well, if Madame Auguste wants to be paid and keep our custom, she must make out a bill for thirty thousand francs standing four years. Do the same with the milliner. That Jew in the rue Saint-Avoie, Samuel Frisch, the jeweller, will help you ; we must owe him twenty-five thousand, and have the jewelry in pawn for six thousand. We return the jewels to him, which are half false, so the baron must not be allowed to examine them too closely. In short, you must make him vomit at least a hundred and fifty thousand francs within the next week." 44 Madame ought to help me a little," replied Europe. 44 Speak to her ; she sits like one daft, and obliges me to have more wit than three authors to one play." 44 If Esther turns prude, let me know," said the abbe. 44 Nucingen will give her a carriage and horses, and she must insist on choosing them herself. Buy them from the man where Paccard is employed. You can get fine horses there, very dear, and they '11 go lame in a month, and he '11 have to get others." 44 One might get five or six thousand francs on the perfumer's bill," said Europe. 44 Oh," said the abbe\ shaking his head, 44 go gently, screw by screw ! Nucingen has only put one arm in the machine as yet ; we must get his whole head in. Besides all this, I shall want another five hundred thousand." Lucien de Bubempre. 147 "You'll have them," replied Europe; " madame will soften about the sixth hundred thousand, and the rest she can get for you herself." u Listen to me, my girl," said the abbe ; " the day I receive the last hundred thousand, you shall have twenty thousand for yourself." "What good will they do me?" said Europe, let- ting her arms drop like one to whom existence is impossible. " You can go back to Valenciennes, buy a fine busi- ness, and become an honest woman if you choose, — every one to his taste in this world. Paccard thinks of it ; his shoulder is clear, and he has n't much on his conscience. You and he can marry." " Go back to Valenciennes! how can you say so, monsieur?" cried Europe, as if terrified. Born in Valenciennes, of poor weavers, Europe was sent at seven years of age into a rope-walk, where modern industry abused her physical forces, and vice depraved her before her time. Corrupted at twelve, a mother before she was thirteen, she found herself fas- tened for life to degraded beings. In consequence of a murder she was brought before the court of assizes as a witness. Influenced at sixteen by a last remnant of integrity, and by fear of the law, she told the truth, and her evidence condemned the accused to twenty years at the galleys. The criminal, known for his ferocious and revengeful nature, said to the girl, before the whole court- room : " In ten years from now, Pru- dence (Europe's name was Prudence Servien), I '11 re- turn to put you under ground, if I go to the scaffold for it." The president of the court endeavored to 148 Lucien de Rubempre. reassure the girl, promising her the protection and watchfulness of the law ; but the poor creature was so terrified that she fell ill, and was a year in hospital. Law, or call it Justice, is a reasoning being, repre- sented by a collection of individuals who are con- stantly removed and renewed ; whose good intentions and recollections are, like themselves, extremely am- bulatory. The courts can do nothing to prevent crime ; they are invented to deal with them ready made. A preventive police would be a blessing to any country ; but the word police frightens the legislator of today, who no longer knows how to distinguish between the terms, to govern, to administrate, to make laws. The legislator now tends to gather up all into the State, as it were capable of acting. The convict, no doubt, continued to think of his vic- tim and of his vengeance when law and justice had forgotten all about them. Prudence, who understood her danger, left Valenciennes and came, when seven- teen years old, to Paris, thinking she could be better hidden there. She took up four callings, the best of which was supernumerary at a minor theatre. There she met Paccard, to whom she related her troubles. Paccard, the right arm and henchman of Jacques Collin, spoke of Prudence to his master; and when the master wanted a slave, he said to Prudence, " If you will serve me as people are made to serve the devil, I'll rid you of Durut," — Durut being the con- vict and the sword of Damocles over her head. Without these details Europe's devotion might seem unnatural ; and no one would have understood the scenic effect the abbe now produced. Lucien de Rubempre. 149 " Yes, my girl, you can safely return to Valen- ciennes. Here, read that," and he took a newspaper from his pocket, and pointed to an article headed : u Toulon. Yesterday, the execution of Jean-Francois Durut took place. From early morning the garrison," etc., etc. Prudence let fall the paper ; her legs gave way un- der the weight of her body. Life came back to her, for she had not, as she said herself, known a relish for food since the day of Durut's threat. " You see I have kept my word. It has taken me four years to inveigle Durut and drop his head into the basket. Well, now, then, finish my work here, and you shall be put into a nice little business in your own town, rich by twenty thousand francs, and married to Paccard, to whom I '11 grant virtue as a retiring pension." Europe picked up the paper and read with glaring eyes the details which all newspapers have never wea- ried of giving for the last twenty years about the exe- cution of criminals, — the imposing scene, the priest who converts the patient, the hardened criminal who exhorts his late colleagues, the artillery drawn up in line with cannon pointed, the kneeling galley-slaves, and the trite and commonplace reflections, which do nothing to change the condition of the galleys where eighteen thousand crimes are swarming. " Asia must come back here as cook," said the abbe, signing to her to join them, "and Paccard must be coachman instead of chasseur. Coachmen don't leave their box, and are not so much watched as footmen." "Are we to have other servants?" asked Asia, doubtfully. 150 Lucien de EabemprS. M Honest people," replied Hen-era. " Weak fools ! " retorted Asia. 11 If the baron hires a house, Paccard has a friend who will do for concierge," said the abbe. " Then we shall need a footman and a kitchen-girl ; you can very well manage two strangers." As the abba was about to leave the house Paccard appeared. " Wait," said the chasseur, " there are people in the street." Those simple words were so alarming that Herrera went up to Europe's room and remained there until Paccard returned with a hired carriage, which was driven into the court-yard. When he reached the faubourg Saint-Antoine, the abbe got out and walked to a stand of hackney-coaches, where he took one and returned to the qnai Malaquais, thus baffling any pos- sible curiosity. M Here, my boy," he said, showing Lucien the four hundred thousand francs in notes, — "here's a first payment on account for the estate of Rubempre. I propose to speculate with one hundred thousand of it. They 've just put that Omnibus stock on the market. Parisians will be taken by such a novelty, and we '11 triple the investment in six months. I know the ins and outs of it ; they mean to pay splendid dividends at first out of the capital to run up the stock, — an idea of Nucingen's. In recovering the Rubempre estate we need n't pay the whole cost immediately. You must see des Lupeaulx, and ask him to recommend you to a lawyer named Desroches, a sharp rascal, whom you should see at his own office. Tell him to go to Ru- Lucien de Bubempre. 151 bempre and study the ground ; promise him a fee of twenty thousand francs if he will manage to buy you for eight hundred thousand francs land enough around the ruins of the old chateau to give you a rental of thirty thousand a year." " How you go ! you go ! you go ! " " Yes, I go on and on. But no joking now. Go and put three hundred thousand at once into Treasury bonds, so as to lose no interest. You can safely leave them with Desroches ; he 's as honest as he is sly. Having done that, go to Angouleme ; see your sister and David Sechard, and coax them to tell a little offi- cial lie in your behalf. Your relations must be sup- posed to have given you six hundred thousand francs to facilitate your marriage with Clotilde de Grandlieu ; there 's nothing dishonorable in that." "We are saved!" cried Lucien, dazzled at the prospect. " You are, yes 5 " replied the abbe, "though not really saved until you come out of Saint-Thomas d'Aquin with Clotilde as your wife." "What do you fear for yourself?" asked Lucien, with much apparent interest. " Some inquisitive persons, I don't yet know who, are on my traces," said the abbe. " I shall have to seem a real priest; and that's extremely annoying. The devil won't protect me if he sees me going about with a breviary under my arm." 152 Lucien de Bubempre. X. PROFIT AND LOSS. If rich men of Baron de Nucingen's stripe have more occasions than other men for losing money, they have also far more opportunity for making it, even when indulging their follies. Though the financial policy of the famous banking-house of Nucingen has been fully explained elsewhere, it may not be useless to remark here that such large fortunes are not ac- quired, not consolidated, not augmented, and not pre- served, during periods of commercial, political, and industrial revolution, without immense losses of capi- tal, or, if you prefer it, without enormous taxes being levied on private fortunes. Very Ijttle fresh wealth is poured into the common treasury of the globe. All additional monopoly represents some new inequality in the general distribution of it. What the State exacts it returns ; but what a house like that of Nucingen takes it keeps. This coup de Jarnac escapes the law, for the reason that would have made Frederick II. a Jacques Collin, or a Mandrin, if, instead of operat- ing on provinces with battles, he had spent his ener- gies in outlawry, or in manipulating stocks. To force the European States to borrow at twenty or ten per cent, to gain these ten or twenty per cent with the capital of the people, to levy a tax on industries by seizing raw material, to fling a rope to the originator Lucien cle Rubempre. 153 of some enterprise and bring him to the surface of the water just long enough to fish out his submerged plan, — in short, all such battles for lucre constitute the statecraft of money. Certainly, there are risks for the banker as for the conqueror ; but there are so few persons in a position to fight him that the flock know nothing of it. These great manoeuvres take place only among the shepherds. Moreover, as the "executed" (consecrated slang term for the Bourse gamblers who fail) are always guilty of trying to make unholy gains, very little interest is felt in misfortunes caused by such manoeuvres as those of the house of Nucingen. When a speculator blows out his brains, a broker takes to flight, a notary carries off the means of a hundred households (which is far worse than killing one man), or a banker goes into liquidation, — such catastrophes, forgotten in Paris in a few months, are soon covered by the tumbling waves of the great city. The colossal fortunes of such beings as Jacques Coeur, the Medici, Ango of Dieppe, the Auffredis of La Ro- chelle, the Fuggers, the Tiepolos, and the Corners, were honestly obtained by privileges due to the ignorance which prevailed in those days of the source of precious commodities. But to-day geographical knowledge has so penetrated the masses, competition has so limited profits, that all rapidly acquired wealth is either the result of chance or of some discovery, or else the re- sult of a legal theft. Corrupted by scandalous exam- ples, trade has carried out, especially within the last ten years, the treacherous practices of commerce by shameful adulterations of raw material. Wherever chemistry is known wine is no longer drunk, and the 154 Lucien de Eubempre. vine-growing industry languishes. Salt is adulterated to cheat the treasury. The courts are alarmed by this widespread dishonesty. In short, French commerce is distrusted by the whole world, and England is getting equally demoralized. The evil comes, with us, from our political regime. The Charter proclaimed the king- ship of money ; material success becomes, therefore, the main object of an atheistical epoch. Corruption in the higher spheres is, in spite of the dazzling results of wealth and their specious reasons, infinitely more hideous than the ignoble and quasi-personal corrup- tions in the lower spheres, — a few details of which play the comic, or, if you choose, the terrible, in this scene. The ministers, afraid of all new thought, have banished the comic of the present day from the stage. The bourgeoisie, less liberal than Louis XIV., tremble at a modern " Mariage de Figaro," forbid the presen- tation of a political "Tartuffe," and, most certainly, would not allow " Turcaret " to be played in these days ; for Turcaret is now supreme. Consequently, the comic must be related, not played ; books become a weapon, less rapid, it is true, but more sure than the drama of the poets. Sure of obtaining Esther sooner or later, the baron became once more the great financier that he was. He went back to the direction of his affairs with such readiness that his cashier found him at six o'clock on the following morning in his counting-room looking over his securities and rubbing his hands. During the morning, in the midst of the coming and going of clients and the giving of orders, one of his brokers in- formed him of the disappearance of a brother broker, — Lucien de Rubempre. 155 the cleverest and richest of them all, — Jacques Falleix, successor of Jules Desmarets. He was chief broker to the firm of Nucingen. In conjunction with du Tillet and the Kellers, the baron had brought about the ruin of this man as coolly as he might have ordered the kill- ing of a sheep for the Passover. " He could n't hold on," replied Nucingen, tranquilly. Jacques Falleix had rendered enormous services to stock-jobbers. But to expect gratitude from these money-lynxes is like asking the wolves of the Ukraine in winter not to eat you up. M Poor man ! " replied the broker, "he so little expected this disaster that he had just furnished a charming little house in the place Saint-Georges for his mistress. He spent more than a hundred and fifty thousand francs in furniture and pictures alone." " Ah ! " said Nucingen, " had he paid anything on them ? " " No," said the broker, " no upholsterer or picture- dealer would have feared to give him credit. It seems he had a fine cellar. The house was for sale, and he meant to buy it. The lease is in his own name ; what a piece of folly ! The result is that everything — plate, furniture, wines, carriage, and horses — goes to the hammer, and what will the creditors get? " "Come to-morrow," said Nucingen. "I will go and see the place ; if no bankruptcy is declared, we '11 arrange matters quietly, and you can offer a reasonable price for the whole, taking the lease." "Oh, that can be done easily!" said the broker. " If you go there this morning, you '11 find one of Falleix's partners with the upholsterers, who are try- ing to prove a first claim on the property." 156 Lucien de Rubemjpre. This failure forced the baron to go to the Bourse, but iu leaving the rue Saint-Lazare he was unable to resist going through the rue Taitbout. The gain he expected to make out of the ruin of his broker made the loss of his four hundred thousand francs compara- tively light ; and he wanted to announce to his angel that she would soon be mistress of a u little balace " (as he said in his German accent), where no fond memories would oppose their happiness. At the cor- ner of the rue des Trois-Freres he met Europe, her face quite convulsed. 44 Where are you going?" he asked. 44 Oh, monsieur, I was going to you! Such a mis- fortune ! When madame's creditors found out she had returned, they came down upon us like a flock of vultures. Yesterday, at seven in the morning, the sheriff came and put up the posters announcing the sale of all her effects for Saturday next. But that 's comparatively nothing ; Madame, who is all heart, wanted to oblige that monster of a man — you know?" 4 'What monster?" 44 Well, the one she loved, d'Estourny. Oh, he was charming ! He gambled, — that was all." 44 He played with marked cards — " 44 Well, — and you," said Europe, 44 what do you do at the Bourse? But let me tell you. One day, to pre- vent d'Estourny from blowing his brains out, as he threatened, she pawned all her plate and jewels, which were not paid for ; and now the creditors have found it out, and they threaten her with the police court. Fancy what a horror to see her in the dock ! She is Lucien de Rubempre. 157 crying bitterly, and wants to throw herself into the river, — and she will, too." "If I go to see her," cried Nucingen, "I have n't time to go to the Bourse ; and I must go, for I want to gain something for her. Try to calm her ; tell her I "11 pay her debts, and will see her at four o'clock. But, Eugenie, persuade her to love me a little." " A little ! I promise you a great deal; for, don't you see, monsieur, there 's nothing like generosity to win women's hearts. I 've told madame already that if she did n't love you she 'd be the lowest of woman- kind, for you were taking her out of hell. As soon as her worries are all over, you '11 see how different she will be. Between ourselves, that night she cried so, she dared not tell you all this, — she wanted to run away, and — " " Run away ! " cried the baron, alarmed at the idea ; " but the Bourse ! the Bourse ! I must go, — say that I will be with her at four o'clock." Europe delivered the message, adding, " Won't you show a little affection for a poor old man who is going to pay your debts, — every one of them ? " " Debts ! what debts? " cried Esther. " Those that Monsieur Carlos incurred for madame." "But he has had already four hundred thousand francs." " There 's a hundred and fifty thousand more un- paid. But he has taken it all in good part, — the baron has. He says he is going to get you out of here, and put you in a 'little balace.' Faith, you're lucky ! If I were you, inasmuch as you hold that man by the safe end, I should make him, after you have 158 Lucien de RubemprS. done all Monsieur Carlos wants, give me a house and an income. Madame is certainly the prettiest woman I ever saw, and the most engaging ; but ugliness comes fast. I was fresh and pretty myself, and look at me now ! I am twenty-three years old, almost as young as madame, but I look ten years older. One illness will do it. Well, if you have a house in Paris and an income, there 's no fear of ending on the streets." Esther was no longer listening to Europe-Eugenie- Prudence Servien. The will of a man endowed with the genius of corruption had plunged her back into the mud with the same force that he had used in pulling her out of it. Those who know love in its infinity know that its joy cannot be experienced without ac- cepting its obligations. Since the scene with the priest in her squalid room in the rue d'Anglade, Esther had completely forgotten her past ; she had lived virtu- ously in thought and deed, cloistered in her love. To meet with no obstacles, the all-knowing corrupter had so wisely prepared his scheme that the poor girl, im- pelled by her devotion, had now only to give her consent to knavery committed, or about to be committed. This astuteness reveals the process by which he had brought Lucien under complete subjection to his will. To cre- ate terrible necessities, to dig the mine, fill it with powder, and at the critical moment to say to his help- less accomplice, ' k Do this, or ruin comes," — this was the situation. In her former life, Esther, born to the peculiar mo- rality of courtesans, estimated her rivals by the sums they could persuade men to spend upon them. For- Lucien de Eubempre. 159 tunes squandered were badges of honor to these women. The abbe, counting upon this feature of Esther's life, was not mistaken. These tricks and stratagems, constantly employed not only by the women but by the spendthrifts themselves, did not affect Esther's mind. The girl felt only her own deg- radation. She loved Lucien, and was forced to be the mistress of Nucingen ; all lay there to her. That the false abbe took ,the gains, that Lucien built the edifice of his fortunes with the stones of her tomb, that Eu- rope should extract from the baron a few hundred thousand francs by means more or less tricky, did not occupy the girl's mind. The cancer that was eating into her soul was something different. For five years she had felt herself white as the angels. She loved, and she had not committed in thought or deed a single infidelity to that love, and now it was about to be soiled. Her mind did not contrast the years of her beautiful life with the vileness of her coming years. Neither reflection nor poesy moved her. What she felt was a feeling indefinable, but of boundless power : from white she was becoming black ; from pure, im- pure ; from noble, ignoble. Purified by her own will, the moral soiling seemed to her unendurable. When the baron threatened her with his love, her thought was to fling herself from the window. Pushed by an iron hand, she had gone to her middle in infamy with- out having time or power to reflect ; but for the last two days reflection had come, and with it a deadly cold to her heart. At Europe's words, "ending on the street," she sprang up, violently exclaiming : — 160 Laden de BtibcmprS. 44 End on the street? No, sooner in the Seine ! " 44 In the Seine?" said Europe. "And Monsieur Lucien?" That name sent Esther back into her chair, where she sat with her eyes fixed on a pattern of the carpet, the furnace of her brain burning up her tears. At four o'clock Nucingen found her plunged in that ocean of reflections and resolutions in which the female mind is wont to float, and from which women issue with words incomprehensible to those who have not navigated the same waters. " Do not look so sad, my dear," said the baron, sit- ting down beside her. " You shall have no debts ; I will arrange with Eugenie. In a month you shall leave this apartment for a little palace. Oh, the pretty hand ! Give it to me that I may weigh it." Esther let him take her hand as a dog gives its paw. " Ah, you give your hand, but you will not give your heart, and it is the heart I want ! " This was said in so sincere a tone that Esther turned her eyes upon the old man with an expression of pity that drove him well-nigh beside himself. There is no greater comprehension in the world than that of two corresponding sorrows. " Poor man ! " she said, " he loves ! " Hearing these words, which he misunderstood, the baron turned pale, his blood tingled in his veins, he breathed another air. " I love you as much as I love my daughter," he said ; "and I feel here" — laying his hand upon his heart — 44 that I do not wish to see you otherwise than happy." 44 If you will indeed be my father, I will love you Lucien de Rubempre. 161 •well. I will never leave you ; you shall never see me the bad and venal and grasping woman that I now seem to be." "You have had your follies," replied the baron, "like other pretty women, that's all. Don't say an- other word about it. Our business, we men, is to make money for you. Be happy. I will, indeed, be your father for a few days ; for I know you must get accustomed to my poor carcass." "Truly?" she said, rising, and passing her arm about his neck. " Truly," he answered, trying to put a smile upon his face. She kissed him on the forehead, believing an impos- sible thing, — to be saved from infamy and see Lucien. She caressed the banker with her old fascination, and bewitched him so thoroughly that he promised to re- main her father for the next month, reflecting that a month was necessary to complete the purchase and arrangement of Falleix's house in the Place Saint- Georges. Once in the street, however, on his way home the baron said to himself, "I am a simpleton." In Es- ther's presence he was a child ; away from her the lynx revived. 11 162 Lucien de BubemprS. XL ABDICATION. Toward the end of December, 1829, the little 44 balace" of the rue Saint-Georges was almost ready for occupation. All the inventions of luxury before the revolution of 1830 had made the house a type of good taste. Grindot, the architect, considered the decora- tions his chef-d'oeuvre. The marble staircase, the stuccos, the stuffs, the gilding soberly applied, — in short, the smallest detail, as well as the greatest effects, surpassed all that the Louis XV. period has bequeathed to Paris. The baron, driven to distraction, and still rebuffed by Esther, resolved to treat what he called the affair of his marriage by correspondence, hoping to obtain some written engagement. Bankers believe in letters. Consequently the lynx rose early one morning in Jan- uary, and locked himself into his study, where he com- posed the following letter, written in very good French, for though he pronounced the language abominably, he wrote it well : — Dear Esther, — Flower of my thoughts, and sole happi- ness of my life, when I told you that 1 would love you as my daughter, I deceived you and I deceived myself. 1 wished to express to you in that way the sacredness of my feelings, which resemble none that I have ever heard of, first, because I am an old man, and next, because I never loved Lucien de Eubempre. 163 before. I love you so much that if you cost me my whole fortune I should not love you less. Be just : most men would not have seen, as I have done, an angel in you ; but I have never cast one thought upon your past. I love you as I love my daughter Augusta, and as I would have loved my wife had my wife loved me. If love is the only absolution for an old man's love, ask yourself if I am not made to play a miserable part. 1 have made you the joy and the conso- lation of my old age. You know well that until my death you shall be made as happy as a woman can be ; and you also know that after my death you shall be rich enough to make you envied by other women. In all the affairs of business about which I have talked to you, your share is first deducted and placed to your account with the house of Nucingen. In a few days you will move to a house which will sooner or later be your own if it pleases you. When there, will you still receive me only as your father, or will you make me happy ? Forgive me if I write to you plainly. When I am near you I have no courage ; I feel that you master me. I do not mean to offend you ; I only desire to tell you how I suffer and how cruel suspense is at my age. The delicacy of my conduct is a guarantee of the sincerity of my intentions. Have I acted like a creditor ? You reply to my complaints that my wishes threaten your life, and I believe it when I am with you ; but away from you I fall into doubts, which dishonor us both. You have seemed to me as good and candid as you are beautiful ; but you take pains to destroy that conviction. You tell me you have a love in your heart, unconquerable, pitiless; you will not tell me for whom. See what my position is : I am obliged to ask you at the end of five months what future you intend to grant to me. 1 must know what role you mean me to play on taking posses- sion of your house. Money is nothing to me where you are concerned. lam not so foolish as to make a merit of this in your eyes ; but if my love is limitless my fortune is not, and 164 Lucien de Rubempri. I would give all for you. Yes, if by giving you all I possess I could, a poor man, win your affection, I would rather be poor and loved by you, than be rich and despised. You have so changed me, my dear Esther, that I am not recog- nizable. I paid ten thousand francs for a picture by Joseph Bridau, because you said he was a man of talent and un- recognized. I give to every pauper I meet five francs in your name. Well, what does the old man, who feels himself your debtor when you do him the honor to accept his ser- vice, ask in return ? Only a hope. I am ready to submit to all conditions ; but tell me at least if, on the day you take possession of your house, you will accept the heart and servitude of him who is for the rest of his days Your servant, Fre'de'ric de Nucingen. On receiving this letter Esther hastily seized a sheet of note-paper, and wrote in large letters, covering the whole page, a phrase from Scribe's comedy (then in vogue), which has since, to his honor, become a pro- verb, " Prenez mon ours." A quarter of an hour later, after despatching the note, Esther, seized with remorse, wrote the following : — Monsieur le baron, — Pay no attention to the letter you have just received from me ; in writing it I returned to the heedless folly of my youth. Forgive, monsieur, a poor girl who ought to be a slave. I never felt the baseness of my lot as I have since the day on which I was delivered over to you. You have bought me and paid for me ; I am owing to you. There is nothing, they say, so sacred as the debts of dis- honor. I have not the right to liquidate mine by throwing myself into the Seine. It must be paid in that awful money which is good on one side only. You will find me therefore at your orders. I will pay once for all the sums that are Lucien de Rubempre. 165 mortgaged upon me ; that fatal moment will be the first and last and only payment. The debt paid, T am free to go out of life. A virtuous woman has chances to raise herself after a fall ; but we, poor creatures, we fall too low. My resolu- tion is so fixed that I beg you to keep this letter as a testi- mony to the cause of the death of her who will be for one day only Your servant, Esther. This letter despatched, Esther again regretted it. Ten minutes later she wrote the following : — Forgive me, dear baron ; this is myself. I did not mean to mock you, nor to wound you ; but I wish to make you reflect upon a simple argument. If we can stay together in the relation of father and daughter, you will have a feeble pleasure, but a lasting one ; if you exact the fulfilment of the contract you will lose me. I will not worry you with further words. The day on which you choose pleasure, rather than happiness, will be without a morrow for me. Your daughter, Esther. The stupidity of the moneyed man, though quasi- proverbial, is nevertheless only relative. There are faculties of the mind as there are aptitudes of the body. The dancer has his strength in his feet, the blacksmith in his arms, the singer works his throat, the pianist his wrists. A banker is trained to contrive affairs, to study them, to make interests act, just as a playwright contrives situations, studies them, and makes his personages act. Baron de Nucingen could no more be expected to perceive the situation than mathematicians can be expected tp have the images of 166 Lucien de Rubemprc. a poet in their understanding. Equally distributed, the vital human force produces fools or mediocrities everywhere ; unequally distributed, it gives birth to those abnormal natures, to which we give the name of genius, but which, if they were visibly clear to us, would seem deformities. The same law rules the body ; perfect beauty is almost always accompanied by coldness or stupidity. In the sphere of speculative calculation, a banker displays as much mind, ability, shrewdness, and faculty, as the ablest statesman in national affairs. If, outside of his couuting-room, he is remarkable he becomes a great man. Nucingen, multiplied by the Prince de Ligne, by Mazarin, or by Diderot, is an almost impossible human formula, though it has existed under the names of Pericles, Aristotle, Voltaire, and Napoleon. Monsieur de Nu- cingen, being a banker, and nothing more, had no fac- ulty of perception outside of his calculations, like other bankers who believe only in actual values. In the matter of art, for instance, he had the good sense to go, money in hand, to experts, — to the best architect, the best connoisseur in pictures, in statues. But as there exists no expert, and no trustworthy connoisseur in love, a banker is terribly embarrassed in managing a woman. Nucingen, therefore, who was ill in his bed for a day after receiving these letters, saw nothing to do but what he had already done, and to trust that time, the little " balace," and his unceasing attentions would bring Esther to reason. Under the system of espionage in which Esther was held, copies of the poor girl's letters were carried by Asia to the abbe. The anger of the man was, like Zucien de Eubempre. 167 himself, terrible. He came at once in a carriage, with the blinds down, to Esther's house, ordering the driver to enter the court- yard. He was livid when he pre- sented himself before her; she gazed at him for a moment, and then, happening to be on her feet, she staggered to a chair, her legs giving way beneath her. 44 What is the matter, monsieur?" she said, quiver- ing in every limb. 44 Leave us, Europe," he said to the waiting-woman. 44 Do you know where you are sending Lucien?" he asked when they were alone. "Where?" she said in a feeble voice, trying to look up at the man. M Where I come from, my girl." Esther saw red as she looked at him. 44 To the galleys," he added, in a low voice. Esther closed her eyes. Her legs stretched out ; her arms hung down. She turned white, and fainted. The man rang, and Prudence ran in. 44 Bring her to," he said, coldly. 44 1 have not done yet." He walked up and down the salon while waiting. Presently Prudence came to ask him to lift Esther to her bed. He did so with an ease that showed his athletic strength. It needed the most powerful drugs to bring the girl back to the consciousness of her woes. In about an hour she was able to listen to her living nightmare as he sat at the foot of the bed, fixing upon her the terrible glance of his glittering eyes like streams of molten lead. 44 My little girl," he resumed, 44 Lucien stands at this moment between a splendid, honored, happy, and 168 Lucien de RubcmprL worthy life and the pool in the river, where he was about to cast himself when I first met him. The family of Grandlieu require him to possess an estate worth a million before they will obtain for him the title of marquis, and give him the hand of that great pole named Clotilde. Thanks to you and me Lucien has just bought his maternal manor, the old castle of Rubempre, which did not cost much, only thirty thou- sand francs. But his agent, by fortunate negotia- tions, has added to it adjoining property amounting to a million of francs, on which we have paid three hun- dred thousand francs down. The castle, the costs, and the premiums have absorbed the rest. We have, it is true, another hundred thousand francs invested, which in a few months will have more than doubled. But there will still remain four hundred thousand francs to be paid. In three days Lucien will return from Angouleme, where he has been to give color to his statement of the source from which the money comes, for he must not be suspected of finding it under your mattress — " 4i Oh, no! " she cried, casting her eyes upward with exaltation. "I ask you, therefore," he continued, unmoved, "is this a time to frighten away the baron? He fainted on reading your second letter. You have a fine style, and I congratulate you on it. If the baron had died of apoplexy, as he might have done, what would be- come of us ? When Lucien comes out of Saint-Thomas d'Aquin the son-in-law of the Due de Grandlieu, if you still want to go into the Seine, — well, my dear, I '11 take your hand and we'll make the plunge together. Lucien de Bubempre. 169 It is one way to end off ; but reflect a little. Would n't it be better to live, and say to yourself at every turn, ' This brilliant fortune, this happy family ' ? — for he '11 have children, children ! have you thought of the pleasure of putting your hand upon their little heads?" (Esther closed her eyes and quivered gently.) " Well, seeing the edifice of his happiness, you will be able to say, ' It is my work. ' " He made a pause, during which these two beings looked at each other. 14 That is what I undertook to do for his despairing life when he was about to fling it into the water," re- sumed the abbe. " Am I a selfish man? That is how we should love. That is the devotion given to kings ; and I have anointed him a king. They might rivet me for the rest of my clays to my old chain, and I think I could be peaceful and happy, saying to myself, ' He is at court ; lie is honored in the world ; he is prosperous.' My soul and my thought would triumph while my car- cass was toiling at the galleys. You are but a mis- erable woman ; you love as a woman. If ever they discover under the skin of the Abbe Carlos the convict I once was, do you know what I should do rather than compromise Lucien?" (Esther listened anxiously.) " I should die as the negroes do, by swallowing my tongue. But you, with your affectations, are bringing ruin upon him. What have I asked of you? To put on La Torpille's petticoat for six months, for six weeks, — long enough to complete that million. Lu- cien will never forget you ; men don't forget the being who is recalled to their mind daily by their prosperity. Lucien is worth more than you. He began by loving 170 Lucien de BubemprS. Coralie ; she died. Very good, but he had n't the means to bury her. Did he do as you did just now, — faint away? No, poet as he is, he wrote six rollicking songs, and earned the money to pay for her burial. I have those songs ; I know them by heart. Well, do you compose your songs. Be gay, frolicking, irre- sistible, insatiable ! You have heard me ; don't oblige me to say this again. Kiss papa. Adieu." When, half an hour later, Europe entered her mis- tress's room she found her kneeliug before the crucifix. Having said her last prayers, Esther renounced her beautiful life, the honor she had tried to make for her- self, her virtue, her future, her love. She rose. " Oh, madame, you will never look like that again ! " cried Prudence Servien, startled at the wondrous beauty of her mistress. She hastily turned the psyche so that the girl might see herself. The eyes still kept a little of the soul that had gone to heaven. The Jewish tones of the skin sparkled. Moist with tears absorbed by the fire of her prayer, the lashes of her eyelids were like leafage after a summer's rain, — the sun of love had shone upon them for the last time. The lips still seemed to invoke the angels, from whom, perhaps, she had asked the palm of martyrdom as she gave into their hands her unstained life. She had the majesty which must have attended Mary Stuart at the moment when she bade adieu to crown and earth and love. " I wish that Lucien could have seen me thus," she whispered softly, with a smothered sigh. "Now," she cried in a vibrant voice, "blaguons/" Zucien de Bubempre. 171 Hearing that word, Europe stood aghast, as though she had heard an angel out of heaven blaspheme. " Well, why do you look at me as if I had cloves in my mouth instead of teeth? I am nothing now but a thief, an infamous, unclean creature, a prostitute ! and I await my lord. He'll come after the Bourse. I '11 write and tell him I expect him. Asia is to serve a dainty dinner ; I '11 make a fool of him, — that man. Go, go, my girl ; and now for folly — I mean business." She sat down and wrote the following letter : — My friend, — I have much curiosity to know how many times you fainted on receiving my three notes two days ago. But how could I help it ? I was very nervous that day ; I had been going over in my mind all the facts of my deplor- able existence. I won't repent for having caused you so much grief, because it proves to me that 1 am really dear to you. That 's how we are, we poor, despised creatures ; a true affection touches us more than the money spent upon us. As for me, I feared I was only the hook on which you hang your vanities, and it vexed me not to be more than that to you. Yes, in spite of your fine protestations, I thought you only looked upon me as a bought woman. Well, now you shall find me a good girl, but on condition that you will still obey me. If this letter does you more good than your doctor's prescription, come and see me to- day on your way from the Bourse. You will find, under arms and adorned with your gifts, the creature who here declares herself, for life, your machine of pleasure. Esther. 172 Lucien de RubemprL XII. ESTHER REAPPEARS ON THE SURFACE OF PARIS. It was exactly six years since Esther had been to a theatre. All Paris was at this time rushing to the Porte-Saint-Martin to see a play to which the power of the actors had given an expression of terrible reality, — "Richard d' Arlington." Like all ingenuous natures, Esther liked to tremble with horror as much as she liked to weep for sympathy. " Let us go to see Frederick Lemaitre," she said to the baron after dinner. "I adore that actor, and I 'm hungry for the theatre." u It is a cruel drama," he replied, as he ordered his servant to take one of the two proscenium boxes on the first tier. When a successful play fills a theatre, there is always a proscenium box to be hired ten min- utes before the rising of the curtain ; the directors retain it for themselves, unless at the last moment some one sends in haste to obtain it. By an accident, so natural that it cannot be called chance, three of Esther's former companions — Tullia, Mariette, and Madame du Val-Noble — were present on this occasion. "Richard d'Arlington" was one of those wild successes (and well deserved) which are never obtained out of Paris. While seeing this drama, all the men began to think they had the right to throw Lucien de Mube?npre. 173 their legitimate wives out of the window, and all the wives thought it delightful to see themselves unjustly victimized. A beautiful creature like Esther, dressed exquisitely, could not display herself in a proscenium box on a crowded night with impunity. Therefore, after the end of the second act, a great commotion arose in the box of the two danseuses when the iden- tity of the beautiful stranger with La Torpille was clearly made out by them. " Ah, ca! where does she come from?" said Mari- ette to Madame du Val-Noble. "1 thought she had gone under, — swamped." "Is it really she? She seems to me three dozen times younger, and far more beautiful than six years ago." "Perhaps she has been preserved, like Madame d'Espard and Madame Zayonchek, in ice," said Phi- lippe Bridau, now called the Comte de Brambourg, laughing. This parvenu had brought the three women to the theatre, where they occupied a box on the lower tier. "Is n't she the rat you talked of sending me to get possession of my uncle? " said Philippe to Tullia. "Precisely," replied Tullia. " Du Bruel, go down into the stalls and see if it is really she." " What a head she carries ! " exclaimed Madame du Val-Noble, using an expression in the vocabulary of such women, which means, " Look at the airs she gives herself." " Oh," cried the Comte de Brambourg, " she has the right to, for she is with my friend Baron de Nucingen ! I '11 go to their box myself." 174 Lucien de Bubempre. " Perhaps she's that pretended Joan of Arc who has conquered Nucingen, about whom we 've been bored to death for the last three months," said Mariette. 41 Good evening, my dear baron," said Philippe Bri- dau, entering Esther's box. u 80 here you are, mar- ried to Mademoiselle Esther. Mademoiselle, I 'm a poor officer whom you once consented to get out of a difficulty at Issoudun, — Philippe Bridau." 11 Don't know him," said Esther, sweeping the audi- ence with her opera-glass. " Mademoiselle," interposed the baron, " is not called Esther any longer. Her name is now Madame de Champy, from a little property which I have bought for her." " Those ladies over there," said Philippe, " are complaining that she gives herself airs. If you do not choose to remember me," he said to Esther, " will you deign to recognize Mariette, Tullia, and Madame du Val-Noble?" "If those ladies are civil to me, I am disposed to be civil to them," replied Esther, shortly. "Civil! why, they are all that's amiable. They have christened you Joan of Arc." Philippe Bridau hastened back to Mariette's box with his report. " Let us go and see her," proposed Tullia. "Faith, no!" cried Mariette; "she's too hand- some. I'll go and see her in her own house." " I think I 'm handsome enough to risk it," replied Tullia. Accordingly, at the next entr'acte, Tullia went to Esther's box and renewed acquaintance with her. Esther, however, kept to generalities. Lucien de Eubempre. 175 "Where do you come from, dear child?" asked the danseuse, who was bursting with curiosity. "Ob! I was five years in a chateau among the Alps, with an Englishman as jealous as a tiger, — a nabob ; I called him nabot, for he was n't bigger than a shrimp. And now I 've fallen to a banker, de caraibe en syllabe, as Florine used to say. But here I am back in Paris, with dreams of amusement that will make a regular carnival of life ! I '11 keep open house. Ah ! I 've five years of solitude to make up. Five years of an Englishman is too much ; they ought to be played ' for six weeks only,' as the posters say." " Did the baron give you that lace? " " No, a relic of the nabob. But fancy what ill-luck, my dear ; he was as ghastly as a friend's smile at our success, and I thought to be sure he 'd die in six months. Pooh ! he proved to be as rugged as the Alps. Always distrust men who say they have something the matter with their liver. I don't wish ever to hear about livers again ; I 've too much faith in proverbs. My nabob robbed me ; he died without making a will, and the family turned me out as if I had the plague. So the banker will have to pay double. Ah ! you are right to call me Joan of Arc ; I 've lost England, and perhaps I '11 die at the stake, burned — " "Of love?" saidTullia. " Alive ! " replied Esther, dreamily. A few days later, Esther, who had been driving in the Champs Elysees, met Madame du Val-Noble in the alley which runs at right angles to the drive, where, at that time, people left their carriages to walk up and down if the weather was fine and dry. 176 Lucien de RubemprL "Well, clear child," said Esther, after they had talked for a while, " come and see me soon. Nucingen dines with me to-morrow, and I want you." Then she whispered in her ear, " I do what I like with him, for he has n't that ! " She put one of her gloved nails un- der her front teeth, and made the well-known gesture, which means, " not a thing ! " " You are sure of him? " 11 My dear, he has so far only paid my debts. " " How mean ! " cried the other. " Oh," said Esther, " I owed enough to scare the minister of finance ! But now he has promised me an investment in Funds for thirty thousand francs a year on the day I take possession of his house. Oh, he 's charming ! I have n't a word to say against him ; he '11 do ! Next week we shall have the house-warm- ing, and you must come. In the morning he is to give me the investment in the Funds, for I could n't begin to live in such a house as that without an income. I 've known poverty, and I don't mean ever to come to it again." "You, who used to say, 'Fortune is I, myself!' how you have changed," said Susanne du Val-Noble. " Well, it is living in Switzerland ; everybody gets miserly there. Go there yourself, my dear; catch a Swiss. In fact, you might marry one, for they don't know anything as yet about women of our kind. But anyhow you '11 come back, as I have, in love with the Grand Livre and a good income — such a delicate, honest love ! Come and see me soon. Adieu." During this time the Abbe Don Carlos Herrera had his passport vised at the Spanish embassy, and was Lucien de Rubempre. 177 arranging all things at the house on the quai Mala- quais preparatory to a journey to Madrid. For this reason : In a few days Esther would remove to the house in the rue Saint-Georges, and become possessed of the investment in the Funds representing thirty thousand francs a year. Europe and Asia were charged with the duty of making her sell out the stock and remit the proceeds to Lucien. Lucien, supposed to be enriched by the liberality of his sister, could thus pay off the whole cost of the Rubempre estate. No one could find a flaw in such conduct. Esther alone could be indiscreet, and she, he knew, would die sooner than let the truth escape her. Clotilde had appeared in church wearing the pink ribbon tied round her crane- like throat, so that the difficulties at the hdtel de Grandlieu were conquered. Carlos, by disappearing for a time, would divert all danger to Lucien if there were, as he now suspected, malevolent persons on his traces. In short, human prudence had foreseen all. There was no weak spot ; no miscarriage was possible. The evening before the day on which the abbe was to start, Lucien went, as usual, to the h6tel de Grandlieu. The company was numerous. Before the eyes of the whole salon the duchess kept Lucien beside her for some time, and showed him the greatest kindness. " You have made a little journey?" she said to him. "Yes, madame la duchesse. My sister, wishing to facilitate my marriage, has made great sacrifices, and so enabled me to buy the estate of Rubempre, and greatly increase it." " Is there a house upon it?" asked Clotilde, smiling too eagerly. 12 178 Lucien de RubemprL " There is something that resembles an old castle," he replied ; " but it would be wiser to use the materi- als in building a modern house." Clotilde's eyes flashed with happiness in addition to the contentment on her lips. "You are to play a rubber to-night with my father," she said to him in a low voice. ' ' Before long you will certainly be invited to dinner." " Well, my dear monsieur," said the Due du Grand- lieu, " you have bought, I am told, the estate of Rubempre. I congratulate you ; it is a conclusive answer to those who declared you were in debt." "Ah, monsieur le due, I still owe half the purchase- money ! " " Well, you must marry a girl with a fortune. But you will hardly find one in our faubourg ; we cannot afford to give such dowries to our daughters." " They have dowry enough in their name," replied Lucien. " We are only three at whist to-night, Maufrigneuse, d'Espard, and I," said the duke; "will you make the fourth," he added, showing Lucien the whist-table. Clotilde sat down beside her father to watch his play. "She wishes me to take this attention to myself," said the duke, tapping his daughter's hand, and look- ing toward Lucien, who remained serious. Lucien was partner to Monsieur d'Espard, and lost twenty louis. " My dear mother," whispered Clotilde to her mother, " he has had the tact to lose." At eleven o'clock, after exchanging a few words of Lucien de Bubempre. 179 love with Mademoiselle de Grandlieu, Lucien returned home, and went to bed thinking of the complete tri- umph he had obtained in one short month ; for there was no longer any doubt of his acceptance as Clotildes suitor, and their marriage before the Lent of 1830. The next morning, as he was smoking his cigarettes after breakfast in company with the abbe, who was thoughtful and seemingly very anxious, the servant announced Monsieur de Saint-Denis, a gentleman who desired to speak either with the Abbe Don Carlos Her- rera, or with Monsieur de Rubempre. "Didn't they say below that I had left Paris?" cried the abbe. "Yes, monsieur," replied the groom. " Then you must receive the man," he said to Lu- cien. " Be careful not to say a single compromising word, nor let a gesture, even of surprise, escape you. 1 am certain this is the enemy." "You shall hear me," replied Lucien. Carlos concealed himself in the adjoining room, and through the crack he saw a man well known to him enter the salon, although he only fully recognized him by his voice ; for Corentin — such was the man's name — possessed the gift of transformation. At this mo- ment he resembled an old head-clerk in the Treasury department. Corentin, whom we have met already in other scenes, was, with a certain Peyrade, at the head of the political police of France. The Revolution had no police ; it needed none. Espionage, then uni- versal, was- called civism. The Directory, with a rather better regulated government than that of the 180 Lucien de Rubemprt. Committee of Public Safety, was obliged to reconsti- tute a police, — a work which the First Consul com- pleted by the creation of the prefecture of police and the ministry of police. Corentin, in conjunction with Peyrade, created the staff of the new department. In 1808 the immense services of these men were re- warded by the appointment of Peyrade as commissary- general of police at Antwerp, while Corentin remained at the head of the police of France both political and judiciary. This position he retained after and during the Restoration. The ministry, made aware of some plot or machination, would say, " How much do you need for such or such results?" and Corentin, after careful estimation, would reply, " Twenty, thirty, forty thousand francs," as the case might be. Then, when the word was once given to go to work, the means and the men to be employed were left to the choice and judgment of Corentin, or the agents whom he selected. This was the system under which the judiciary police was conducted for the discovery of crime in the days of Vidocq. From 1817 to 1822 it sometimes happened that Corentin was employed to watch the ministry itself. The ministry, having perfect confidence in him, would set him to watch the men who were watching them, — a circumstance which used to make Louis XVIII. smile. Corentin's private office was known only to the min- istry of police, and one or two other persons. There he received the personages whom the ministry or the king employed as intermediaries in serious affairs ; but no agent or sub-official ever came there. He had other quarters for the transaction of his regular police-work. In this secret room plans were concocted and resolu- Lucien de Eubempre. 181 tions taken which would have furnished strange an- nals and curious dramas could the walls have spoken. There, from 1816 to 1826, vast interests were analyzed and discussed. There were unfolded, in their germ, events which later bore heavily on France. There Corentin and his friend Peyrade said to each other after 1819, "If Louis XVIII. does not choose to strike such or such a blow, or get rid of such a prince, it is because he execrates his brother. He wants to bequeath to him a revolution." * Corentin had seen the Abbe Don Carlos Herrera on several occasions, and observed his glance, which could never be forgotten ; also the square structure of the powerful shoulders, and the bloating of the face. On the previous night, when the abbe had been out in the disguise of a sheriff's officer, Corentin had met him. He was just about to get into a hackney coach. "Eh, Monsieur l'abbe ! " cried Corentin, suddenly. Carlos turned his head, saw Corentin, whom he knew but too well, and jumped into the carriage. Corentin, however, had time to say, through the door: — " That's all I want to know. Quai Malaquais," he called out to the driver, with infernal mischief in his tone and look. " Ha!" said Jacques Collin to himself as he drove away, "I'm sold; they are on me. It is a question of being quicker than they ; but I must know first what they want of us." 1 The part omitted in this volume relates the manoeuvres of police and criminals in connection with this plot of Jacques Collin, whose - real identity, however, was not as yet known to the police. — Tk. 182 Lucien de BubemprL M I have not the honor of being known to you, mon- sieur," said Corentin to Lucien as he entered the room ; " but — " " Excuse me for interrupting you, monsieur," said Lucien ; " but — " " But the matter concerns your marriage with Made- moiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu, which will not take place," said Corentin, quickly. (Lucien sat down and said nothing.) " You are in the power of a man who has the means, the will, and the intention of proving to the Due de Grandlieu that the estate of Rubempre will be paid for by a fool to whom you have sold your mistress, Mademoiselle Esther. The minutes of the proceedings against her for debt are easily procurable ; also we have means of making d'Estourny and his agent Cerizet speak out. The manoeuvres — extremely clever ones — against the Baron de Nucingen will be brought to light. At this moment, however, the mat- ter can be arranged. Pay one hundred thousand francs, and you will be left in peace. This payment does not concern me. I am simply the agent of those who are practising this blackmail ; that is all." Corentin might have talked for an hour. Lucien smoked his cigarettes with perfect equanimity. " Monsieur," he replied, when Corentin paused, " I do not wish to know who you are, for men who under- take such commissions have no name, — at any rate, none for me. I have allowed you to say what you had to say unchecked, for I am in my own house. You seem to me not devoid of sense ; therefore listen to my dilemma." (A pause ensued, during which Lucien met with an icy glance the cat-like eyes which Corentin Lucien de Rubempre. 183 fixed on him.) " Either you are relying on statements that are absolutely false, and I ought to take no notice of them, or you are right in what you state ; in which case, by giving you one hundred thousand francs I also give you the power to ask me for as many hun- dred thousands as you can find Saint-Denises to come and ask for them. In short, to put an end in one sen- tence to your very worthy negotiation, you are to know that I, Lucien de Rubempre, fear no man, inasmuch as I have nothing to do with such swindling as you speak of. I may add that, if the family of Grandlieu make difficulties, there are other young women of high rank who are marriageable ; and, in any case, there is no offence to me in remaining a bachelor." " If Monsieur l'Abbe Carlos Herrera — " " Monsieur," said Lucien, interrupting Corentin, " the Abbe Carlos Herrera is at this moment on the road to Spain. He has nothing to do with my mar- riage, nor anything to say about my affairs. He is a diplomatist who has kindly helped me for some time past with his advice ; but he has reports to make to his Majesty the King of Spain, and if you wish to speak to him you must follow him to Madrid." " Monsieur," said Corentin, curtly, " you will never be the husband of Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu." " So much the worse for her," replied Lucien, impa- tiently, urging Corentin to the door. " Have you fully reflected?" said Corentin, coldly. " Monsieur, I recognize neither your right to meddle in my affairs nor to make me lose a cigarette," replied Lucien, flinging away his extinguished cigarette. 184 Lucien de RubemprL 44 Adieu, monsieur," said Corentin. "You will not see me again ; but there will, assuredly, come a mo- ment in your life when you would give half your for- tune to have had the thought of recalling me from that staircase.*' In reply to this threat the abbe made a sign of cut- ting a man's throat. " Now, to work ! " he cried, looking at Lucien, who had turned livid when the terrible conference was over. Lucien de Rulempre. 135 XIII. THINGS THAT MAY BE SUFFERED ON THE THRESHOLD OF A DOOR. No immediate events followed this scene. The abbe, ostensibly gone to Spain, went really as far as Tours. There he sent his carriage on to Bordeaux, with a trusty subordinate in it to play the part of mas- ter, and await him in an inn in that town. He him- self returned, dressed as a commercial traveller, to Paris, where he was secretly installed in the rue Tait- bout, whence, by means of Asia, Europe, and Paccard, he directed his machinations, and watched every one, more especially Corentin. Esther, meantime, continued conscientiously her r61e of Pompadour to the prince of speculation. She gave two or three little parties solely for the purpose of inviting Lucien to the house. Lousteau, Rastignac, du Tillet, Bixiou, Nathan, the Comte de Brambourg, — the most dissipated young men of the day, — were its habitues ; and Esther finally accepted, as actresses in the drama she was now playing, Tullia, Florentine, Fanny-Beaupre, Florine, and Madame du Val-Noble. In six weeks time Esther became the wittiest, most amusing, handsomest, and most elegant of the female pariahs who compose the class to which she now belonged. She tasted all the enjoyments of vanity which seduce such women, but a secret thought put 186 Lucien de Rubempre. her above her caste. She kept in her heart an image of herself which was at once her shame and her glory. The hour of her abdication was ever present to her thoughts ; she lived a double life, holding her present self in pity. Her sarcasms were the outward sign of her deep contempt and horror for the infamous and odious rdle played by the body in presence of the soul. Spectator and actor, judge and criminal, she embodied that wonderful fiction of the Arabian tales, in which a sublime being appears in a loathsome person, a type which we all know under the name of Nebuchadnezzar in that book of books, the Bible. The opening of the house in the place Saint-Georges had been postponed by her on various pretexts from time to time, but it was now fixed, with its attendant fete, for the day after the first masked ball of the season. About a fortnight before the day, Esther was, as usual, at the Opera. She had selected her box at a point from which she could command that of Madame de Serizy, whom Lucien was in the habit of accompanying. The poor girl put all her happiness into the power of looking at him on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, the Opera nights. On this occasion, about half-past nine o'clock, she saw him enter Ma- dame de Serizy's box with a pale and anxious face that was almost distorted. These signs of inward wretchedness were visible to her alone. The knowl- edge of the face of a man by the woman who loves him is that of a mariner about the ocean. "Good God! what has happened?" she thought; u what distresses him? Will he want to see that in- fernal man, — but a guardian-angel to him? Could I get word to Asia, in whose room he is hiding?" Lucien de Euhempre. 187 Full of such painful thoughts, she scarcely listened to the music, nor to the baron, who was holding a hand of his "auchel" in both of his, and talking to her in his Polish- Jewish jargon that was sometimes incomprehensible. "Esther," he suddenly cried, pushing away her hand with some ill-humor, " you are not listening to me ! " "Baron, you gabble love as you do your shocking French." "The devil!" "lam not in my boudoir ; I am at the Opera. And if you were not one of those iron safes made by Huret, metamorphosed into a man by some trick of nature, you would n't make such a disturbance in the box of a woman who loves music. You keep rustling my gown like a cockchafer on paper." " How ungrateful you are ! " cried the baron. "Ungrateful!" she exclaimed. "What have you given me up to this time? Much annoyance. Do you think I'm proud of you? You are proud of me, I know ; I wear your buttons and your livery well enough. You 've paid my debts, that 's true ; but look how you filch millions. Ah ! you need n't make faces at me ; you told me so yourself. Prostitute and thief, we could n't be better matched. You have bought a magnificent cage for a parrot whom you fan- cied. Go and ask a Brazilian macaw if it owes grati- tude to a man who keeps it in a gilded cage. Don't look at me in that way ; you remind me of a Chinese bonze. You show your red and white macaw to all Paris, and call out, ' Is there any one here who pos- sesses such a fine poll-parrot? Just hear it talk! 188 Lucie a de Rubempre. You 'd really think there was sense in its words ; when du Tillet comes in it says, " How do, old cheat? " ' You say you want my heart. Well, come, I '11 tell you a way to get it." M Tell me, tell me ! I '11 do anything for you ; I like to have you blague 1 me in this way." " Be young, be handsome, be like Lucien de Ru- bempre, who is over there in Madame de Serizy's box, and you will obtain gratis what you can never buy with all your millions." " I shall go home, for you are really execrable to- night," said the lynx, whose face elongated as he went to the door and opened it. " Here, Nucingen ! " said Esther, recalling him with an imperious gesture. The baron returned with a servility that was almost canine. " Do you want me to be nice to you and pet you, old monster? " " You break my heart." " Prake your heart!" she cried, imitating his ac- cent. " What do you know of a broken heart? But I want you to go over there and bring Lucien here to me ; I wish to invite him to Belshazzar's feast, and make sure that he comes. Now, if you succeed in that little negotiation, I '11 tell you I love you so plainly, my old Frederic, that you '11 actually believe it." 1 The word blague cannot be translated, nor its meaning given by any English word or term. It has a hundred meanings in the French. It is talk, — reckless, witty, ironical, chaffing, boast- ful, whimsical, free to license, the vehicle of which is bohemian slang. — Tr. Lucien de Rubempre. 189 " You are a witch," said the baron, kissing her glove. " I 'd listen for an hour to your insults for a sweet word at the end." " Then obey me," she said, " or — " and she threat- ened him with her finger as you might a child. The baron shook his head like a bird caught in a net which implores the hunter's pity. "Oh ! what can be the matter with Lucien?" she said to herself when left alone, the tears she had been retaining dropping from her eyes. " Never, never, did he look so sad as that ! " Something had indeed happened to Lucien that very evening. He had gone, as usual, in his coupe to the hdtel de Grandlieu. Reserving his saddle-horse and his cab-horse for the mornings, he had, like other fash- ionable young men, a coupe for the winter evenings, chosen from those of the best carriage-maker, and drawn by fine horses. All things smiled upon him: he had dined three times at the hdtel de Grandlieu ; the duke was charming to him ; the Omnibus shares, sold at treble their cost, had enabled him to pay off another third on the cost of his estate ; Clotilde de Grandlieu, who now appeared in charming toilets, beamed joyously upon him when he entered the salon, and openly avowed her love. Persons in high places talked of the marriage as a probable thing. The Due de Chaulieu, formerly ambassador to Spain, and now minister of foreign affairs, promised the Duchesse de Grandlieu to ask the King to bestow the title of mar- quis upon Monsieur de Rubempre. After dining with Madame de Serizy, Lucien had gone, as we have said, to pay his usual evening visit 190 Lucien de Ruhcmpre. at the hotel de Grandlieu. He arrived there ; his coachman called for the gate to open, and he reached the portico. As Lucien got out of his coupe he saw- four or five other carriages waiting in the court-yard. Seeing Monsieur de Rubempre, one of the footmen opened and shut the door of the peristyle, and came forward, standing with his back to the door, like a soldier on guard. " His Grace is not at home," he said. " Madame la duchesse receives," observed Lucien. " Madame la duchesse is out," replied the footman, gravely. " Mademoiselle Clotilde — " " I don't think that mademoiselle would receive monsieur in the absence of Madame la duchesse." " But I see there is company," said Lucien, con- founded. M I don't know," said the man, trying to seem stupid and yet respectful. There is nothing more terrible than etiquette to those who admit it to be the most formidable law of social life. Lucien saw the meaning of this scene, disastrous to him, — the duke and duchess refused to receive him. He felt the marrow of his spinal cord freezing in the sections of his vertebral column ; a cold sweat beaded his brow. This colloquy had taken place before his own valet, who held the handle of the carriage door, in doubt whether to close it. Lucien signed to him that he was going aw r ay ; but as he got into the coupe he heard the sound of persons coming out on the portico, and a servant called out, "The carriage of Monsieur le Due de Chaulieu." " Quick! " cried Lucien to his Lucien de Rubempre. 191 valet, " to the Opera ! " But in spite of his haste the unfortunate man could not avoid the Due de Chaulieu and his son, the Due de Rhetore, to whom he was forced to bow, although they did not speak to him. " How can I get word of this disaster to Carlos, to my only adviser," thought Lucien. " What has hap- pened? What will happen?" His mind wandered away into conjectures. Here is what had happened. That morning, at eleven o'clock, the Due de Grand- lieu, on entering the little salon where the family breakfasted, had said to Clotilde : — k * My child, until you hear more from me, you must not think again of the Sieur de Rubempre." Then he took the duchesse aside, and said a few words to her in a low voice, which made poor Clotilde turn pale, for her mother, on hearing them, showed the utmost surprise. "Jean," said the duke to one of the servants, " carry this note to the Due de Chaulieu, and ask him to send an answer, yes or no, by you. I have invited him to dine with us to-day," he said to his wife. The breakfast was very dismal ; the duchess was thoughtful, the duke seemed angry with himself, and Clotilde could scarcel} 7 retain her tears. As soon as the duke had left the room the mother said, tenderly : — "My child, your father is doing right; obey him. I cannot tell you, as he did, not to think of Lucien. No, I understand your grief too well." (Clotilde kissed her mother's hands.) "But I do say to you, 192 Lucien de RubcmprL my angel, wait ! Make no move ; suffer in silence, since you love him, and trust to the wisdom and solici- tude of your parents. Women of our station, my child, are great ladies because they know how to do their duty on all occasions, and do it nobly." "But what has caused this?" asked Clotilde, as white as a lily. "Things that cannot be told to you, dear heart," replied the duchess, " for if they are false, your mind would be uselessly soiled ; if true, you should be igno- rant of them." At six o'clock the Due de Chaulieu entered the Due de Grandlieu's study. "Henri," said the latter, "I am in such difficulty that I can only take counsel of an old friend like you, who knows the world and deals with it. My daughter Clotilde loves, as you know, that little Rubempre, whom they have almost persuaded me to accept as her husband. I have always been against the marriage ; but the fact is Madame de Grandlieu has not been able to withstand Clotilde's feelings. When the young man bought his property, and paid three-fourths of the purchase-money, I felt I could not make any further objection. But last night I received an anonymous letter, in which I am told that the young man's money comes from an impure source, and that he lied to us in saying that his sister had given him the funds neces- sary to the purchase of the property. I am advised, in the interests of my daughter's happiness and our family credit, to make inquiries, and the means are suggested to me. But I distrust and despise all anonymous let- ters. Here, read it yourself." Lucien de Rubempre. 193 " I share your opinion of anonymous letters, my dear Ferdinand," said the Due de Chaulieu when he had read the letter ; " but while we despise them it is best to use them. There are cases in which we must treat such letters as we do spies. Close your doors to the young man for the present, and make inquiries. Your lawyer is Derville, — a man in whom we all have confidence ; he has the secrets of many families, and he can be trusted with this. He is an upright man, — a man of weight and honor ; also he is very shrewd and wary. But you will want another man with him, more accustomed to detective duty, and we have one at the ministry of foreign affairs who is without his equal for discovering secrets of state. We often send him on missions. Let Derville know that he will have a lieutenant in ferreting out this matter. Our spy is a monsieur, who will present himself with the cross of the Legion of honor, and has all the appearance of a diplomat. He will do the hunting, and Derville can assist in the chase ; after which they will be able to tell you if the mountain has given birth to a mouse, or whether you must get rid of that young Rubempre. A week ought to be enough for the inquiry." " The young man is not marquis enough yet to take offence at my shutting my doors on him for a week," said the Due de Grandlieu. " Especially if you give him your daughter after- wards," said the minister. "And if the anonymous letter tells the truth, what do you care if he is affronted or not? If the statements are true, you must send Clotilde to travel with my daughter-in-law Madeleine, who wants to go to Italy." 13 ] 94 Lucien de Rubempre. "You pull me out of trouble," said the Due de Grandlieu. " I don't know how to thank you." " Wait for the result." " Ah ! " exclaimed the Due de Grandlieu, " what is the name of your man? I must tell it to Derville. Send him here at four o'clock to-morrow, and I '11 have Derville on hand, and put them in communication." "The real name of the man is, I believe, Corentin (a name you never heard of) ; but the gentleman will make his appearance here under his ministerial name. He calls himself Monsieur de Saint something or other. Ah, Saint-Ives ! No, Saint- Valere, — one or the other." After this conference the majordomo of the mansion received orders to close the doors to Monsieur de Ru- bempre, which, as we have seen, was done. Lucien walked about the foyer of the Opera-house like a drunken man. He saw himself the talk of all Paris. In the Due de Rhetore he had, as he knew, one of those pitiless enemies on whom we are com- pelled to smile, unable to avenge ourselves, because their attacks are conformed to the laws of society. The Due de Rhetore knew of the scene that had just taken place on the portico of the h6tel de Grandlieu. Lucien felt the absolute necessity of informing his guardian-counsellor, now hiding in the rue Taitbout, of this sudden disaster, yet he was afraid of compro- mising himself by going to Esther's house where there might be company. He was so beside himself that he forgot that Esther was in the Opera-house. In the midst of all these terrible perplexities, Rastignac, knowing nothing as yet of what had happened, came Lucien de Rubempre. 195 up to congratulate him on his approaching marriage. At that instant Nucingen approached him smiling, and said : — " Will you do me the pleasure to come and see Madame de Champy? She wants to invite you herself to our house-warming." " Willingly, baron," replied Lucien, to whom the banker appeared for a moment like a saving angel. "Leave us," said Esther to the baron when he re- appeared with Lucien ; "go and see Madame du Val-Noble, whom I see over there in a box on the third tier." "What is it, my Lucien?" she said in his ear the moment that the door closed on Nucingen. " I am lost ! They have just refused me entrance at the hotel de Grandlieu, under pretext that the duke and duchess were not at home, when there were four or five carriages in the court-yard." "What! the marriage broken off!" said Esther in a faltering voice, for a vision of paradise rose before her. " I don't yet know what is on foot against me." " My Lucien," she said in a voice adorably caress- ing, "why be so grieved? You can make a better marriage later." " Invite a number of us to supper to-night, so that I can speak secretly to Carlos — " Lucien suddenly stopped, and made a gesture of despair. " What is the matter?" said the poor girl, who felt as though she was in a furnace. "Madame de Serizy sees me here!" cried Lucien; 196 Lucien de Rubempre. " and worst of all, the Due de Rhe'tore, who witnessed my rebuff, is with her." At that moment the young duke was saying to Ma- dame de Serizy, " Why do you let Lucien show himself in the box of Mademoiselle Esther? You take an in- terest in him, and you ought to warn him that such things are not admissible. He may sup with her if he chooses ; but, really, I am no longer surprised that the Grandlieus have given him up. I saw him refused to-night at their door, on the portico." " Those women are very dangerous," said Madame de Serizy, with her lorgnette turned full on Esther's box. "They'll ruin him." " Oh, no! " said the duke, " instead of costing him money, they would give it to him if he needed it. All women run after him." M Well," said Esther, u come to supper at midnight, and bring Blondet and Rastignac. Have two amusing men at any rate, and don't let us be more than nine." When Lucien returned to Madame de Serizy 's box, instead of turning her face to him and smiling, and drawing back her dress to make room for him, she continued to gaze at the audience through her opera- glass ; but Lucien saw by the trembling of the lor- gnette that the countess was angrily agitated. Never- theless, he walked down to the front of the box, and seated himself in the other corner of it, leaving a little space between Madame de Sdrizy and himself. He leaned over the edge of the box, with his elbow on the cushion, and his chin in his gloved hand. Then he turned to a three-quarter position, and waited to be addressed. By the middle of the third act the countess Lucien de Rubemjpre. 197 bad not only not spoken, but she had not even looked at him. "I don't know," she said at last, "why you are here ; your proper place is in Mademoiselle Esther's box." " I am going there," said Lucien, who rose and left the box without even glancing at the countess. 198 Lucien de Eubempre, XIV. ONE OF CORENTIN's MANY MOUSE-TRAPS. Corentin, coming in from his country-house at Passy, presented himself before the Due de Grandlieu on the following day. In a buttonhole of his black coat was the ribbon of the Legion of honor. He had made himself the face of a little old man, with pow- dered hair, much wrinkled, and very wan. His eyes were hidden by tortoise-shell spectacles. He had the air and manner of the head-clerk in some government office. When he had given his name (Monsieur de Saint-Denis) he was conducted to the duke's study, where he found Derville reading the letter he had dic- tated himself to one of his own agents, whose business it was to write the office letters. The duke took Corentin apart to explain all that Corentin knew. Monsieur de Saint Denis listened coldly and respectfully, amusing himself by studying this great seigneur, penetrating to the man beneath the velvet, and turning inside out to his own mind the being whose sole occupation in life was, then and al- ways, whist and the contemplation of the family of Grandlieu. Great seigneurs are so naive and simple- minded with their inferiors that Corentin had not many questions to put to the duke to elicit his superciliousness. " If you will take my advice, monsieur," Corentin Zucien de Rubemjpre. 199 said to Derville, after being duly presented to him, " we had better leave to-night for Angouleme by the Bordeaux diligence, which goes quite as fast as the mail. Six hours will get us all the information that Monsieur le due requires. Did I understand your Grace to say that it would suffice to ascertain whether the sister and brother-in-law of Monsieur de Rubempre had been able to give him twelve hundred thousand francs?" he added, looking at the duke. "You have understood me perfectly," replied the peer. " We can be back here in four days," said Corentin, turning to Derville. " Not so long an absence that the affairs of either will suffer." " That was the only objection I made to his Grace," said Derville. " It is four o'clock ; I will return home to say a word to my head-clerk and pack my travelling- bag, and after dinner I will be at — But are we sure of places?" he said to Monsieur Saint-Denis, inter- rupting himself. tk I '11 answer for that," said Corentin. "Be in the court-yard of the Messageries du Grand-Bureau at eight o'clock. If there are no places I shall make some ; for that is how monseigneur the Due de Grandlieu must be served." " Messieurs," said the duke, with much grace, " I do not thank you now." Corentin and the lawyer, taking that speech as their dismissal, bowed and went away. At half-past eight o'clock Monsieur de Saint-Denis and Derville, seated in the coupe of the diligence to Bordeaux, were ob- serving each other in silence as they left Paris. The 200 Lucien de RiibemprL next morning, between Orleans and Tours, Derville, who was bored, seemed disposed to talk, and Corentin deigned to amuse him, keeping at the same time his dis- tance ; he allowed the lawyer to think that he belonged to the diplomatic body, and expected to be made a consul-general by the influence of the Due de Grand- lieu. Two days after their departure from Paris, Corentin and Derville stopped at Mansle, much to the astonishment of the lawyer, who expected to go to Angouleme. " We shall get more accurate information about Madame Sechard in this little town than in Angou- leme," said Corentin. " Do you know her?" asked Derville, surprised to find his companion so well informed. "No, but I made the conductor talk, finding that he came from Angouleme. He tells me that Madame Sechard lives at Marsac, which is only three miles from Mansle ; and I think we shall be able to get at the truth here rather than in Angouleme." "Well, after all," thought Derville, "I am only employed, as the duke told me, to witness the inqui- ries made by this confidential man of his." The inn at Mansle, called " La Belle-Etoile," had for its landlord one of those fat, gross men, whom we hardly expect to see alive on our return, but who are still, ten years later, on the threshold of their door, with the same amount of flesh, the same cotton night- cap, the same apron, the same knife, the same greasy hair, the same triple chin, — landlords who are stereo- typed in all romance, from the immortal Cervantes to the immortal Walter Scott. Always boasting of their Lucien de fiubempre. 201 kitchen ; always having everything that you want to feed you, — promises which culminate in an ema- ciated chicken and vegetables cooked with rancid butter. Each and all vaunt their fine wines, and force you to drink the vin du pays. But, from his youth up, Corentin had learned to extract from an innkeeper more essential things than doubtful dishes and apocryphal wines. He accordingly gave himself out for a man very easy to please, who trusted impli- citly to the best cook at Mansle, as he remarked to the fat landlord. " I have no difficulty in being the best, for I 'm the only one," said the host. " Serve us in a side room," said Corentin, winking at Derville, " and above all, don't be afraid of setting fire to your chimney ; we want to get the numbness out of our limbs." " It was n't hot in the coupe," remarked Derville. M How far is it from here to Marsac? " asked Coren- tin, addressing the innkeeper's wife, who descended from the upper regions on hearing that the diligence had unloaded two travellers intending to sleep at the inn. " Monsieur, are you going to Marsac? " inquired the hostess. " I don't know," he replied, shortly. "Is it far from here to Marsac?" he asked again, giving the woman time to notice the red ribbon in his buttonhole. u If you drive, it takes a short half-hour," she said. " Do you think that Monsieur and Madame Sechard are there in winter ? " 202 Lucien de BubemprS. 44 Of course, — they live there all the year round." "It is now five o'clock. Shall we be likely to find them still up at nine?" M Oh, yes, till ten o'clock, certainly ! They have company every evening, — the cure and Monsieur Marron, the doctor." "They are very worthy people, are they not?" asked Derville. 14 Oh, monsieur, yes, the very cream ! " replied the innkeeper's wife, — " good, upright people, not ambi- tious, no ! Monsieur Sechard, though he has enough to live on comfortably, might have had millions, so they say, if he had n't let himself be robbed of an invention he made about paper-making ; the Cointet Brothers profited by that." 44 Ah, yes, the Cointet Brothers ! " said Corentin. " Hold your tongue, wife ! " said the landlord. 44 What do these gentlemen care whether Monsieur Sechard got his patent or not; they are not paper- dealers. If you intend to pass the night with me at La Belle-Etoile," said the man, addressing the travel- lers, 44 here 's the book in which I will ask you to write your names. We have a constable at Mansle who has nothing to do, and spends his time plaguing us." 44 The devil ! I thought the Sechards were very rich," said Corentin, while Derville wrote their names and his own description as barrister to the Civil Court of the Seine. 44 Some folks do say they are millionnaires," replied the landlord ; 4 4 but to stop tongues from wagging is like trying to keep the river from running. Pere Se- chard left two hundred thousand in lands, so they say ; Lucien de fiubempre. 203 and that 's pretty good for a man who began as a workman. Perhaps he had as much more in savings ; for he ended in getting an income of ten or twelve thousand francs from his property, and it is not to be supposed he was such a fool as to neglect to put his savings out at interest as he made them. But if he did, as some say he did, dabble in usury, three hun- dred thousand francs was as much as he ever handled, and that ain't a million. I wish I had the difference between them, and I wouldn't be here now keeping the Belle-Etoile." " Is it possible? " said Corentin. " I was told that Monsieur David Sechard and wife had fully two or three millions." "Goodness!" cried the wife, "that's all they say the Cointets have after robbing him of his invention, for which they only paid him twenty thousand francs. Where do you suppose such honest people as the Se- chards could get a million? They were very poor in the lifetime of the old man. Without Kolb, who is now their bailiff, and Madame Kolb, who are both devoted to them, they would hardly have had bread to eat. What had they when they went to live at La Verberie? Three thousand francs a year at most." Corentin took Derville aside. " In vino Veritas, — truth in taverns. For my part, I consider an inn the best civil court in the land ; a notary does n't know more of what goes on in a small place than a landlord. Just see how we are supposed to know 'the Cointets,' and 'Kolb,' etc. A tavern- keeper is the living record of all adventures ; he 's the police himself without knowing it. The government 204 Lucieii de MubemprS. does n't need more than two hundred detectives at the most in a country like France, where there are ten million honest spies. We are not obliged, however, to trust this report, though they would be certain to know in this little place if twelve hundred thousand francs had been taken out of it to pay for the Rubem- pre estate. We need not stay here long — " 44 1 hope not," said Derville. 44 For this reason," continued Corentin : 44 1 have found the most natural way in the world to get the truth from Sechard and his wife. I rely on you to support my little scheme with the weight of your au- thority as notary, for it will bring forth a clear and succinct account of their fortune. After dinner we shall drive over to see Monsieur Sechard," he said to the hostess. 44 Be sure that our beds are prepared; we require two rooms." 44 Dinner is ready, messieurs," said the landlord. 44 Where the devil could that young man have got his money ? " said Derville to Corentin, as they took their places at table. 44 Can that anonymous letter be true? Do you suppose- it was the money of some mistress ? " 44 Ah, that's the subject of another inquiry ! " said Corentin. 44 Lucien de Rubempre lives, so the Due de Chaulieu tells me, with a converted Jewess, who passes for being Dutch, and calls herself Esther van Bogseck." 44 What a singular coincidence," said the lawyer. 44 1 am searching for the heiress of a Dutchman named Gobseck ; it is the same name with a transfer of consonants." Lucien de Bubempre. 205 " Well," said Corentin, "you shall have full infor- mation as to the relationship on my return to Paris." An hour later the two emissaries of the house of Grandlieu started for La Verberie, the home of Mon- sieur and Madame David Sechard. Never had Lucien experienced such emotion as that which took possession of his soul at La Verberie when comparing his fate with that of his early friend and brother-in-law. The two Parisians were now to see the same scene as that which, a few days earlier, had so affected Lucien. In the first place, the whole at- mosphere was that of peace and plenty. At the hour when the two strangers arrived, the salon of La Ver- berie was occupied by a little coterie of four persons, — namely, the rector of Marsac,— a young priest, twenty- five years of age, who, at Madame Sechard's earnest request, was the tutor of her only son Lucien ; the doctor of the neighborhood, Monsieur Marron ; the mayor of the township ; and an old colonel, retired from service, who cultivated roses on a small estate situated opposite to La Verberie on the other side of the road. Every evening in winter these persons came to pla} r an innocent boston, at a farthing a stake, and obtain the newspapers, or return those they had read. When Monsieur and Madame Sechard bought La Ver- berie, — a pretty house, built of tufa, and roofed with slate, — its only pleasure-ground was a small garden of about two acres. With time, and with the fruits of her economy, the beautiful Madame Sechard had ex- tended the garden to a little water-course by sacrificing a vineyard, which she bought and transformed into lawn and shrubberies. At the present time, La 206 Lucien de Rubempre. Verberie, surrounded by a park of twenty acres, in- closed with walls, was considered the most important estate in the neighborhood. The house of the late Sechard and its dependencies was only used for the working of some twenty acres of vineyard, left by the old man, besides six farms, each bringing in about six thousand francs, of ten acres apiece, situated on the other side of the water-course, exactly opposite to the park of La Verberie. Already the country people were calling La Verberie 4 'the chateau," and Eve Sechard was usually spoken of as "la dame de Marsac." In satisfying his social vanity by calling his sister Madame Sechard de Mar- sac, Lucien had only done as the peasants and the vine-dressers were already doing. Courtois, the pro- prietor of a mill picturesquely situated at a few stones' throw from La Verberie, was, they said, then in treaty for the sale of this mill to Madame Sechard. This purchase would give to La Verberie its finishing touch as an estate of the first class in the department. Ma- dame Sechard, who did much good, and did it with as much discernment as liberality, was loved and re- spected. Her beauty, now become magnificent, had reached its highest development. Though nearly twenty-six years of age, she had kept the freshness of youth, thanks to the repose and the abundance afforded by country life. Always in love with her husband, she respected in him a man of talent, suffi- ciently modest to renounce the loud clamor of fame. To describe her fully, it may suffice to say that, in all her married life, she had never had one heart-throb prompted by aught else than her husband and children. Lucien de Rabempre. 207 In six years Lucien had seen his sister three times, and he had only written her at the most six letters. His first visit to La Verberie was at the time of his mother's death, and the last, which had just taken place, was made to ask the favor of the lie so neces- sary to his present circumstances. It led to a some- what painful scene between himself and Monsieur and Madame Sechard, who were left with grave and dis- tressing doubts as to their brother's conduct. The interior of the house, transformed like the ex- terior, but without luxury, was comfortable. This will be seen by a rapid glance cast into the room where the company were now assembled. A pretty Aubusson carpet on the floor, the walls hung with twilled gray cotton, their panels defined by a cord of green silk, woodwork stained to resemble ironwood, furniture of mahogany, covered with gray cashmere with green trimmings, plant-stands filled with flowers in spite of the season, — all this gave an aspect that was soft and pleasing to the eye. The window curtains of green silk, the drapery of the mantel-shelf, and the frame of the mirrors, were free from the bad taste which spoils so much in the provinces. Even the appropriate and elegant minor details were restful to the soul and to the eye by the sort of poesy which a loving and intelli- gent woman can and should introduce into her home. Madame Sechard, still in mourning for her mother, was busy at the corner of the fire with a piece of em- broidery, assisted by Madame Kolb, the housekeeper, on whom she relied for all the household details. As the cabriolet containing the two strangers reached the first houses in Marsac, the usual company at La Ver- 208 Lucien de Hubempre. bene was increased by the arrival of Courtois, the miller, now a widower, who wanted to retire from business, and hoped to sell his property to the owners of La Verberie, and sell it well, because Madame Eve seemed to want it especially, and Courtois knew why. u Here 's a cabriolet stopping at the door," said Courtois, hearing the sound; "by the rattle I should say it was a country vehicle." " Very likely Postel and his wife, who have driven over to see us," said the doctor. " No," said Courtois, " for the vehicle comes from the road to Mansle." "Matame," said Kolb, a tall and stout Alsacian, opening the door of the salon, " here 's a lawyer from Paris who wants to speak to monsieur." " A lawyer ! " cried Sechard, u the mere word gives me the colic." " Thank you!" said the mayor of Marsac, named Cachan, a lawyer of twenty years' standing in Angou- leme, who was formerly employed to sue David Sechard. " My poor David will never change ; he '11 always be absent-minded," said Eve, smiling. " A lawyer from Paris? " said Courtois. " Then you have business there ? " " No," said Eve. " But you have a brother there," said Courtois. u Take care it is n't about your inheritance from Pere Sechard," said Cachan; "many of his doings were very shady, the old man ! " As they entered, Corentin and Derville, after bow- ing to the company and giving their names, asked Lucien de Eubempre. 209 to speak to Madame Sechard and her husband in private. " Certainly," replied Sechard ; " but is it on business?" " Solely about your inheritance from your father/' replied Corentin. "Then you will please permit Monsieur le maire, who was formerly a lawyer in Angouleme, to be pres- ent at the conference." " Are you Monsieur Derville? " asked Cachan, look- ing at Corentin. "No, monsieur; this is he," replied Corentin, mo- tioning to the lawyer, who bowed. " We are here as one family," said Sechard, " and we have nothing to conceal from our friends ; there- fore we need not go into my study, where there is no fire. Our life is open to the daylight." "That of your father, monsieur," said Corentin, " had certain secrets in it which you might not like made known — " "Is it anything to make us blush?" asked Eve in alarm. "Oh, no; only a youthful peccadillo," replied Co- rentin, setting with much care one of his thousand and one little mouse-traps. " Your father gave you an elder brother." "Ha! the old bear!" cried Courtois. "He never loved you, Monsieur Sechard, and he kept this to come down upon you after his death, the dissembling old fellow ! I know now what he meant when he used to say to me, ' You '11 see what you will see when I 'm dead and gone.' " 14 210 Lucien de Bubempri. " Oh, don't be uneasy, monsieur ! " said Corentin to Sechard, studying Eve out of the corner of his eye. M A brother ! " cried the doctor, " why, there 's your inheritance divided in halves ! " Derville pretended to be looking at the fine engrav- ings, before lettering, which were hanging on the walls. " Oh, don't distress yourself, madame ! " said Coren- tin, seeing the surprise depicted on Madame Sechard's beautiful face. " I mean only a natural son. The rights of natural children are not those of legiti- mate children. This son is in great poverty, and he has a right to a certain sum based on the amount of the inheritance. The millions that your father left — " At the word millions there rose a unanimous cry throughout the salon. Derville stopped looking at the pictures. " Old Sechard, millions ! " ejaculated Courtois. "Who told you that? Some peasant, of course." " Monsieur," said Cachan, "you don't belong to the Treasury, therefore I presume there is no danger in telling you — " " Oh, you need n't fear! " said Corentin. " I give you my word of honor that I am not employed in the National Domain office." Cachan, who had signed to every one to keep quiet, nodded his head with satisfaction. " Monsieur," continued Corentin, " even if there is only One million, the share of a natural son is a large one. We don't wish to bring a suit ; on the contrary, we merely propose that you shall pay us a hundred thousand francs to settle the claim." Lucien de Bubempre. 211 "A hundred thousand francs!" cried Cachan, in- terrupting Corentin. " Why, monsieur, old Sechard left twenty acres of vineyard, five little farms, ten acres of meadow-land in Marsac, and not one farthing with — " " Not for all the world," cried David Sechard, "will I consent to lie, Monsieur Cachan, and less in a matter of self-interest than in all others. Messieurs," he said to Corentin and Derville, "my father left us, beside his land " (Courtois and Cachan in vain made signs to him), "three hundred thousand francs, which brings the whole value of our inheritance from him to five hundred thousand francs." " Monsieur Cachan," said Eve Sechard, " what is the share which the law gives to a natural child ? " " Madame," said Corentin, " we are not Turks ; we only ask you to swear before these gentlemen that you have not received more than three hundred thousand francs in money from your father's estate. That is all we want." "First, give us your word of honor," said the for- mer lawyer of Angouleme to Derville, "that j 7 ou are indeed a lawyer." "Here is my passport," replied Derville, giving Cachan a paper folded in four. " Monsieur," mo- tioning to Corentin, "is not, as you may think, an inspector-general of the Domains. Make yourself easy," added Derville. "We have merely a strong interest in knowing the truth about the Sechard prop- erty, and we now know it." Derville then took Madame Sechard by the hand, and led her very courteously to the end of the salon. 212 Lucien de RubemprL "Madame," he said in a low voice, " if the honor and future welfare of the house of Grandlieu were not concerned, I would not have lent myself to this strata- gem, invented by that decorated gentleman. But you will excuse it, I am sure. The question was simply to verify the truth or falsehood of a tale by which your brother has gained the confidence of that noble family. Be careful now not to let it be believed that you have lent your brother twelve hundred thousand francs to buy the estate of RubempreV' 44 Twelve hundred thousand francs ! " exclaimed Ma- dame Sechard, turning pale. " Where can he have got them, unhappy boy?" 11 Ah, that's the point," said Derville. " I fear the source of his fortune is a very impure one." The tears were in Eve's eyes, and her neighbors saw them. 44 We have, perhaps, done you a great service," continued Derville, " by preserving you from being connected with a deception which may have very dan- gerous consequences." Derville left Madame Sechard seated, and very pale, with the tears on her cheeks. He bowed to the com- pany and quitted the house. 44 To Mansle ! " cried Corentin to the little boy who drove the cabriolet. The diligence from Bordeaux to Paris passed through Mansle during the night ; there was one seat in it. Derville asked Corentin to allow him to take it, al- leging his urgent business ; but in reality he wanted to shake off his travelling companion whose diplo- matic dexterity and sangfroid seemed to him a well- Lucien de Eubempre. 213 practised habit. Corentin stayed three days at Mansle without finding an opportunity to get away. He finally wrote to Bordeaux to retain a place for Paris where he did not return until nine days after his de- parture. Five days after Derville's return Lucien received, in the morning, a visit from Rastignac. "My dear fellow," said the latter, "I am almost in despair about a negotiation which has been con- fided to me on account of our well-known intimacy. Your marriage is broken off without allowing you any hope whatever of renewing it. Never put your foot again in the hotel de Grandlieu. To marry Clotilde you would have to wait till the death of her father, and he 's too selfish to die soon. Old whist-players hang long over their tables. Clotilde is going to Italy with Madeleine de Lenoncourt-Chaulieu. The poor girl really loves you ; they have had to watch her ; she wanted to come and see you, and actually made a plan to get away. That 's one consolation for your disaster." Lucien did not answer ; he looked at Rastignac. "After all, is it a disaster?" Rastignac went on. " You can find other girls as noble and much hand- somer than Clotilde. Madame de Serizy will find you one out of revenge ; she can't endure the Grandlieus, who have never been willing to receive her. There's her niece, that little Clemence du Rouvre." " My dear fellow, I am not on good terms with Madame de Serizy. She saw me in Esther's box and made me a scene ; I left her without a word." " A woman of forty does n't quarrel long with a 214 Lucien de Bubempre. young man as handsome as you," said Rastignac. "I know a little about those sunsets ! They last ten minutes on the horizon and ten years in a woman's heart." " I have been expecting a letter from her for the last week." " Go and see her." " Well, I suppose I must." Lucien de BubemprS. 215 XV. FAREWELL. The day before the much talked-of housewarming, Madame du Val-Noble was sitting at nine in the morning by Esther's bedside, weeping bitterly. Her last protector had died suddenly, and she knew her- self on the down-hill to misery. " Oh ! if I only had two thousand francs a year ! " she cried. " With that I could live in a country-town and find some one to marry." "I'll get them for you," said Esther. "How?" cried Madame du Val-Noble, eagerly. "Oh, easily enough. Listen. Pretend that you want to kill yourself ; play the comedy well ; send for Asia and offer to give her ten thousand francs for two black pearls in a very thin glass cover ; she has them ; they contain a poison that will kill in a second. Bring them to me, and I '11 give you fifty thousand francs for them." " Why don't you ask her for them yourself?" asked the Val-Noble. " Asia would not sell them to me." " They are not for yourself? " " Perhaps so." "You! — who live in the midst of joy and luxury and in a house of your own ! You, on the eve of a 216 Lucien de BubemprS. fete about which people will talk for ten years, — a fete that will cost Nucingen tens of thousands of francs ! I 'm told there '11 be strawberries, here in February ! asparagus ! grapes ! melons ! and three thousand francs' worth of flowers are ordered for the salon ! " "What are you talking about? There'll be three thousand francs' worth of roses on the staircase alone." " They say your dress cost ten thousand ! " "Yes; it is Brussels point. I wanted a regular bridal dress." u Where am I to get the ten thousand francs for Asia?" " Oh ! I'll give them to you ; it's all the money I have," said Esther, laughing. "Open my dressing- case ; you '11 find them — under the curl-papers." "When people talk of dying they never kill them- selves," said Madame du Val-Noble. " If it were to commit — " " A crime? nonsense! " said Esther, completing the thought. " You need n't worry," she continued ; " I 'm not going to kill any one. I had a friend, a very happy woman ; she is dead, and I shall follow her — that's all." " How silly you are ! " " Can't help it, we promised each other." " Then let the note go to protest," said Madame du Val-Noble, laughing. " Do as I tell you, and go away. I hear a carriage, and it is Nucingen ; he is going mad with happiness. Ah! he loves me, that man! Why don't we love those that love us?" Lucien de Ruhempre. 217 "Ah! that 's it," said Madame du Val-Noble. " It is the history of the herring, — the most intriguing of fishes." "Why?" " Nobody has ever known." "Come, go, my angel! I must get you your fifty thousand francs." "Well, then, adieu!" For the last three days Esther's manner to the baron had completely changed. The mocking tone had first grown feline, and now the cat had turned into a woman. She lavished affection on the old man, and made herself charming to him. Her talk, devoid now of malice and bitterness, was even tender, and brought conviction to the mind of the clumsy banker. She called him Fritz ; he believed she loved him. He had now brought her the certificate of the in- vestment on the Grand-Livre, and had come to break- fast with his "dear little ancliel" to take her orders for the next day, the famous Saturday, the great day. "Here, my little wife, my only wife," he said joy- ously, "here's enough to keep your kitchen going for the rest of your days." Esther took the paper, without the slightest emotion, folded it, and put it in her dressing-case. " So now you are pleased, monster of iniquity," she said, giving a little tap to his cheek, — " pleased to see me accepting something from you at last. I can't tell you any more home truths, for now I share the fruit of what you call your labors. 'T is n't a gift, — no, my poor "old man, it is a restitution. Come, don't put on your Bourse face ; you know I love you." 218 Lucien de BubemprS. "My beautiful Esther, my angel of love, don't talk to me so again," said the banker. "See! I would not care if all the world called me a thief if I could only be an honest man in your sight ; I love you daily more and more." " That's my plan," said Esther. " Therefore I will never again say anything to grieve you, my old ele- phant ; for you 've grown as innocent as a child. Par- bleu! vieux scelerat, you never had any innocence but that which you came into the world with ; it had to get to the surface some day, but 't was so deep down it could n't get up till you were sixty-five years old ; and then it was fished up with the hook of love ! — a phenomenon of old men. And that's why I've ended by loving you — you 're young, oh ! very young ! There 's none but me who knows this Fre'deric — none but me ! for you must have been a banker in your teens. I know you lent your schoolmates one marble on condition they returned you two. Ah ! well, well ! " she cried, as she saw him laugh, "you shall do as you like. Hey ! pillage men, and I '11 help you. Men are not worth being loved ; Napoleon killed them like flies. What does it signify whether they pay taxes to you or the budget ? There 's no love in the budget, and I say — yes ! I 've reflected about it, and you 're right — shear the sheep ; that 's in the Gospel according to Beranger. Kiss your 'Esther. Ah ! dis done, promise that you '11 give that poor Val-Noble all the furniture of my apart- ment in the rue Taitbout — promise ! And to-morrow, 1 want you to present her with fifty thousand francs. What a figure you '11 cut, mon chat! Babylonian gen- erosity ! all the women will talk of you — so, after all, it is putting your money out at interest." Lucien de Bubempre. 219 "You are right, my anchel ; you know the world," he replied. " I'll be guided by you." " Well," she said, " you see how I think about your affairs, and your consideration and your honor. Now go and get me that fifty thousand francs." She wanted to be rid of him and send for a broker to sell the investment that very day at the Bourse. M Why must I get them at once? " "Oh, you silly! don't you know you should offer them in a pretty satin box under a fan, and say, ' Here, madame, is a fan that I hope will please you '? Do go and get the things at once." " Charming," said the baron ; " I shall have wit enough now. Yes, I shall repeat your words." Just as poor Esther was flinging herself down, weary with the effort of playing her rdle, Europe entered. " Madame," she said, " here 's a messenger sent from the quai Malaquais by Celestin, Monsieur Lu- cien's valet." "Let him come in. No, stay; I'll go to the ante- chamber." Esther rushed to the antechamber and looked at the messenger, who seemed to her an ordinary porter. He gave her a letter. When she had read it she dropped into a chair, and said, in a weak voice, — "Tell him to come down;" adding, in Europe's ear, "Lucien has tried to kill himself. Show Mm the letter." The abbe, who still wore the dress of a commercial traveller, came down at once, and instantly observed the porter standing in the antechamber. 220 Lucien de RubemprL " You told me there was no one here," he said in Europe's ear. As a matter of precaution he passed into the salon after glancing at the man. Trompe-la-Mort was not aware that the well-known head of the detective police, who had arrested him in the Maison Vauquer, had a rival and possible successor in Contenson. "Yes, you are right," said the porter (Contenson), when he joined his superior, Corentin, in the street- " The man you described is in the house ; but he 's no Spaniard. I 'd be willing to put my hand in the fire that there 's some of our own game under that cassock. He is no more a priest than he is a Spaniard." "I'm certain of that," replied the head of the political police. " Oh, if we could only prove it ! " said Contenson. Lucien had really been missing two days, and they had profited by his absence to lay this trap ; but he returned that evening, and Esther's fears were quieted. The next morning, just after she had taken her bath and had gone back to bed again, Madame du Val- Noble arrived. " There are your two pearls," she said. " Let me look," said Esther, half rising, and rest- ing her pretty elbow on the lace pillow. Madame du Val-Noble held out to her what looked to be two black currants. The baron had given Esther a pair of little greyhounds of a celebrated breed (which will sooner or later bear the name of a great contemporary poet, who first brought them into fashion). She was very proud of possessing them, and had given them the names of their progenitors, Lucien de Rubemjpre. 221 Romeo and Juliet. Esther called Romeo. The pretty creature ran to her on his slender, flexible feet, so firm, so sinewy that they were like steel springs. He looked at his mistress. Esther made a gesture of throwing one of the pearls to attract his attention. "His name has destined him to die thus," said Esther, flinging the pearl, which Romeo broke between his teeth. The dog gave no cry ; he turned upon himself and fell stone-dead while Esther was still uttering the words of his funeral oration. " Oh, heavens ! " cried Madame du Val-Noble. " You have a carriage ; carry off the late Romeo," said Esther. " His death would create a commotion here. Make haste. You shall have your fifty thou- sand francs to-night." This was said so tranquilly, with the absolute in- sensibility characteristic of a courtesan, that Madame du Val-Noble cried out, — "You are indeed our queen!" " I shall say I lent Romeo to you ; and you must say he died at your house. Come early, and look your best." At five o'clock that afternoon, Esther dressed, as she had said, like a bride. She put on her lace gown over a skirt of white satin, and wore a white sash and white shoes, and over her beautiful shoulders a scarf of point d'Angleterre. In her hair were nat- ural white camellias, and round her throat a neck- lace of pearls costing thirty thousand francs, sent to her by Nucingen. Though her toilet was finished by six o'clock, she had closed her doors to every one, 222 Zucien de Bubempre. for she expected Lucien. He came at seven, and Europe found means to bring him up to Esther's room without his arrival being noticed. When Lucien saw Esther dressed as she was and in all her beauty, he said to himself : " Why not go and live with her at Rubempre, far from the world, and never see Paris again? I have had five years' instal- ment of that life, and the dear creature's nature can never be false to itself ; where could I ever fiud another such perfection ? " " My friend, you whom I have made my deity," said Esther, kneeling before Lucien, " bless me — " Lucien tried to raise her, and kissed her, saying: " You are joking, dear love." Then he tried to take her by the waist, but Esther disengaged herself with a motion of mingled respect and horror. " I am no longer worthy of you, Lucien," she said, letting the tears roll from her eyes. " I implore you, bless me — and swear to found two beds at the H6tel Dieu ; as for masses in church, God will never par- don me except to myself. I have loved you too much. But at least tell me that I made you happy and that you will sometimes think of me — won't you?" Lucien saw such solemn sincerity in Esther's man- ner that he grew thoughtful. " You mean to kill yourself," he said at last, in a tone of voice that indicated some deep meditation. " No my friend; but to-day, you see, is the death of the woman, chaste and pure and loving, who was yours, and I am afraid that grief may kill me." Lucien de Eubempre. 223 "Poor child! wait," said Lucien. "I have made great efforts during the last two days ; I have man- aged to communicate with Clotilde." "Always Clotilde!" she cried in atone of smoth- ered anger. "Yes," he said, "we have written to each other. On Tuesday morning she starts on her journey, but I am to meet her near Fontainebleau on the road to Italy." "Ah, gaf what do you want for wives, you men? Planks?" cried poor Esther. " Tell me, if I had four or five millions would you marry me ? " "Child! I was just about to tell you that if all is over for me, I want no other wife but you." Esther lowered her head to hide her sudden pallor and the tears that she brushed from her eyes. "You love me!" she said, looking at Lucien with bitter sorrow. " Well, that is my benediction. Don't compromise yourself ; go down by the little staircase and pretend that you entered the salon from the ante- chamber. Kiss me on the forehead," she said. She took Lucien in her arms, strained him to her heart with violence, and said, " Go! go ! or I must live." When she appeared in the salon a cry of admiration arose. Esther's eyes reflected an infinity in which the soul seemed lost ; and the blue-black of her beautiful hair brought out the white tones of the camellias. She had no rival. She appeared as the supreme ex- pression of unbridled luxury, the creations of which surrounded her. Her talk sparkled with wit. She commanded- the revels with the cold calmness of Habeneck at the Conservatoire when he leads the 224 Lucien de BubemprS. best musicians of Europe in interpreting Beethoven and Mozart. Nucingen ate little and drank nothing. By midnight all the company had lost their senses. They broke the glasses that they might never be used again. The curtains were torn. None could keep their feet; the women were asleep on the sofas. Bixiou, who was drunk for the second time in his life, said, as he saw Nucingen lead Esther away, "The police ought to be notified, — some evil is about to happen." The jester thought he jested ; he prophesied. Monsieur de Nucingen did not appear in his office until twelve o'clock Monday morning. At one o'clock, his broker informed him that Mademoiselle Esther van Gobseck had sold the investment on the Grand-Livre the preceding Friday and received the money. " But, Monsieur le baron," he said, " the head-clerk in Monsieur Derville's office came in just as we were speaking of this transfer, and after reading Mademoi- selle Esther's real name, he told me that Monsieur Derville was searching for her as the heiress to a for- tune of seven millions." u Bah!" cried Nucingen. " Yes ; she is the sole heiress of the old usurer Gobseck. Derville is to verify the facts. If the mother of Mademoiselle Esther was that beautiful Dutch girl who — " "I know all that," said the banker. "She has re- lated to me her life. I '11 write a note to Derville." The baron sat down at his desk, wrote the little note, and sent it. Then he went to the Bourse, and at three Lucien de Eubempre. 225 o'clock he returned to the house in the place Saint- Georges. " Madame has forbidden me to wake her under any pretext whatever," said Europe. " The devil ! " cried the baron. " Europe, my dear, she won't be angry if you tell her she is rich, richis- sime ! She inherits a fortune of seven millions. Old Gobseck is dead, and your mistress is his heiress, for her mother was the old fellow's niece." "Ha! your reign is over, old mountebank," said Europe, looking at the baron with the insolence of one of Moliere's servant-women. " Eugh ! old crow of Alsace ! She loved you about as much as one loves the plague — Heavens and earth! millions? ah, now she can marry her lover ! Oh ! won't she be glad ! " And Prudence Servien left the baron confounded, and ran to be the first to tell her mistress of this stroke of luck. The old man, believing in his happiness, re- ceived this shock of cold water on his love at the moment when it had reached its highest degree of incandescence. " She deceived me ! " he cried, with tears in his eyes. " She was deceiving me ! Oh, Esther ! oh, my life ! Fool that I have been ! Such flowers cannot bloom for old men. Youth I could not buy. Oh, my life ! What can I do ? What shall I become ? She is right, that dreadful Europe ! Esther, rich, escapes me. Shall I go hang myself? What is life without love? Oh, my life ! " A piercing cry made him quiver to the very marrow of his bones ; he rose, and walked with shaking legs, 15 226 Lucien de Rubempre. drunk from the shock of disenchantment. Nothing intoxicates so fatally as the wine of misery. At the door of the chamber the unhappy man saw Esther stiff on her bed, livid from poison, dead. He went to her side and fell on his knees. " You are right," he said. " She warned me of this. She has died of me ! " Paccard, Asia, and the rest of the household ran in. It was a sight to see, — a surprise ; but there was no desolation. Some uncertainty was felt among the ser- vants. The baron became a banker, and, feeling sus- picious, was imprudent enough to ask where were the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, the product of the sale of the investment. Paccard, Asia, and Europe looked at each other in so singular a manner that Nucingen went out immediately, believing in a murder and robbery. Europe, who felt under Esther's pillow a limp package which seemed to reveal bank- notes, began to busy herself with the body, and said to Asia : — " Go and tell Monsieur Carlos. To die before she knew she had seven millions ! Tell monsieur that Gob- seek was her uncle, and has left her everything." Paccard seized the meaning of Europe's manoeuvre. As soon as Asia's back was turned, Europe opened the package, on which the poor girl had written, " To be given to Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre." Seven hun- dred and fifty thousand francs in bank-bills beamed on the eyes of Prudence Servien. " Oh," she cried, " how happy and honest we might be for the rest of our days ! " Paccard's thieving nature was stronger than his attachment to Trompe-la-Mort. Lucien de Rubemjpre. 227 "Durut is dead," he said; "my shoulder is still clear. Let us be off together, and divide it up, so as not to have all our eggs in one basket, and get married." ' ' But where can we hide ? " said Prudence. " In Paris," replied Paccard. The pair turned and went down the stairway with the rapidity of thieves, and left the house. 11 My dear," said Trompe-la-Mort, when Asia had told her news, " go and find me a letter or paper in Esther's handwriting, while I write her will. Carry the letter and will to Girard, and tell him to write it off at once, for you must slip the will under Esther's pillow before the seals are put on." He then wrote the following draft of a will : — Having never loved any one in the world but Monsieur Lucien Chardon de Rubempre, and being resolved to put an end to my days rather than fall back into vice and the in- famous life from which his charity redeemed me, I give and bequeath to the said Lucien Chardon de Rubempre all that I die possessed of, on condition that he will found a mass at the parish church of Saint-Roch for the repose of her who has given him all, even her last thought. Esther Gobseck. " There, that 's sufficiently in her style ! " said Trompe la-Mort. By seven in the evening this will, duly written and signed by a trained forger, was put by Asia under Esther's pillow. " The police have come ! " she cried, hurrying up to the abbe's room shortly after. " You mean the justice of peace and his people." 228 Lucien de RubemprL " No, I do not ; the justice of peace was there too, but the gendarmes accompany him. The public prose- cutor and the justice of peace are both there. The doors are guarded." 44 This death has made a sudden rumpus," said Trompe-la-Mort. "Europe and Paccard have disappeared, and I'm afraid they have carried off the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs," said Asia. "Ah, the blackguards!" he cried. "That bit of pilfering may lose us all / " Human justice and Parisian justice, — that is to say, the most distrustful, most intelligent, ablest, and best- informed of all justice, — too intelligent sometimes, because it interprets everything solely by the law, — had at last put its hand on the threads of this horrible intrigue. The Baron de Nucingen, recognizing the effects of poison, and remembering the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, thought that one or other of the odious servants whom he disliked was guilty of a crime. In his first fury he went straight to the pre- fecture of police. It was like ringing a bell that brought all Corentin's minions into play. The prefec- ture, the courts, the commissary of police, the justice of peace, the examining justice, were at once afoot. By nine o'clock three doctors were engaged on poor Esther's autopsy, and the inquiry began. Trompe- la-Mort, informed of this by Asia, said coolly : — " No one knows I am here ; I can keep out of sight." He raised himself by the frame of his garret sky- light, and sprang with extraordinary agility to the Lucien de BiLbemjpre. 229 roof, where, standing erect, he began to consider the surroundings with the coolness of a slater. " Good ! " he said, noticing a garden at a distance of five houses off, "a garden ; that 's all I want." " Easily pleased, Trompe-la-Mort," said Contenson, coming from behind a stack of chimneys. " You can explain to Monsieur Camusot what sort of mass mon- sieur l'abbe proposed to say on the roofs ; and, above all, why he wanted to run away." " I have enemies in Spain," said Carlos Herrera. " Come, we '11 go down through your attic." Carlos yielded apparently ; but as soon as he could brace himself against the frame of the sky-light, he seized Contenson round the legs, and flung him with such violence that the police-spy fell headlong into the place Saint-Georges, and died upon his field of honor. Jacques Collin returned composedly to his attic, where he went to bed. "Give me something to make me very ill without killing me," he said to Asia. " Don't be alarmed at whatever happens. I am a priest, and I shall stay a priest. I have just got rid, in a natural manner, for he slipped off the roof, of the only man who could unmask me." At seven o'clock the same evening, Lucien had started in his cabriolet, with a passport taken that morning for Fontainebleau, where he slept in the last inn on the road to Nemours. About six the next morning he went on foot through the forest and walked to Bouron. "It was just there," he thought, sitting down on one of the rocks from which the noble landscape of 230 Lucien de Bubempre. Bouron can be seen, "just at that fatal spot, that Napoleon hoped to make a gigantic effort two nights before his abdication." After a while he heard the wheels of a carriage, and a britska passed him, in which were the servants of the young Duchesse de Lenoncourt-Chaulieu and the waiting-maid of Clotilde de Grandlieu. " Here they come," thought Lucien ; " now to play this comedy well, and I am saved. I shall be the son-in-law of the duke in spite of him." An hour passed, and then a travelling-carriage, in which were the two young women, came on with the roll, so easily distinguished, of an elegant equipage. The duchess had given orders to put the brake on the wheels as the carriage came down the steep de- scent from Bouron. The footman got off his seat to obey her, and the carriage stopped. At that mo- ment Lucien advanced. "Clotilde!" he cried, tapping on the window. u No," said the young duchess to her friend, " he must not get into the carriage ; he shall not be alone with us. Have a last interview with him ; I consent to that ; but it must be on the open road, where we will go on foot, followed by Baptiste. The day is fine, we are warmly dressed, and we need not fear the cold. The carriage can follow." They both got out. 4 1 Baptiste," said the duchess, "the postilion is to follow slowly ; we want to walk a little way, and you will accompany us." Madeleine de Mortsauf took Clotilde by the arm, and allowed Lucien to talk with her. Together they Lucien de Bubempre. 231 walked on to the little village of Grey. It was then eight o'clock, and there Clotilde bade Lucien good-bye. " Remember, my friend," she said, ending nobly the long interview, " I will never marry any one but you. I prefer to believe in you above all men, above even my father and my mother. Could I give you a greater proof of my attachment? Now strive to remove the unjust prejudices which weigh upon you." The gallop of several horses was heard, and in a moment a squad of gendarmes surrounded the little group, much to the astonishment of the two ladies. "What do you mean by this?" said Lucien, with the arrogance of a fashionable young man. "Are you Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre?" asked a person who was the public prosecutor of Fontaine- bleau. "Yes, monsieur." "You will sleep to-night in La Force; I have a warrant to arrest you." " Who are these ladies?" inquired the corporal of gendarmes. "Ah, true! Mesdames, your passports — for this young man has acquaintances, so my instructions say, with women capable of — " " Do you take the Duchesse de Lenoncourt and her friend for such women ? " said Madeleine, casting the look of a duchess at the speaker. " Baptiste, show our passports." "Of what crime is monsieur accused?" asked Clo- tilde, whom the duchess was entreating to get into the carriage. 232 Lucien de Ruhempre. "Of theft, and murder," replied the corporal of gendarmes. Baptiste lifted Mademoiselle de Grandlieu in a dead faint into the carriage. At midnight Lucien was locked up in the prison of La Force, where he was kept in solitary confinement. The Abbe Carlos Herrera had been brought there on the previous evening. Lucien de Rubempre. 233 XVI. WHITHER THE PATH OF EVIL LED. At six o'clock on the following morning, two ve- hicles, called, in the vigorous language of the populace, " salad-baskets," left the prison of La Force and took the road to the Conciergerie, the prison of the Palais de Justice. There are few loungers in Paris who have not met this rolling jail; but — although as a rule French books are written solely for Parisians — foreigners may like to find here a description of this formidable equi- page of our criminal justice. Who knows but what the Russian, German, or Austrian police, hitherto lacking salad-baskets, may profit by it? and in several foreign countries an imitation of this mode of trans- portation would certainly be a benefit to prisoners. This ignoble vehicle, with a yellow body, mounted on two wheels, and lined with sheet-iron, is divided into two compartments. In the first is a seat, cov- ered with leather and having a leathern apron. Here sit the constable and a gendarme. Behind them a heavy iron grating, reaching from roof to floor, filling the whole width of the vehicle, separates this species of cabriolet from the second compartment, in which are two wooden benches, placed, as in omnibuses, on either side of the van ; on these the prisoners sit. 234 Lucien de Ruhempre. They are put in at the back, where there is one step, through an iron door without a window. The nickname of " salad- basket" came from the fact that the vehicle had originally an open grating on all sides, through which the prisoners could be seen, shaken about like lettuces. For greater security, in case of accidents, this van is followed by a gendarme on horseback, especially when conveying condemned prisoners to the scaffold. Consequently escape is impossible. The vehicle, being lined with sheet-iron, cannot be cut by any instrument. The prisoners, carefully searched when arrested or when locked up, possess no other implement than, possibty, their watch-springs, which may serve to file a bar, but are useless on smooth sur- faces. The salad-basket, now brought to perfection by the police of Paris, serves as a model for the cel- lular wagon used to convey convicts to the galleys, which has taken the place of the dreadful cart, that shame of preceding generations, though Manon Les- caut glorified it. The salad-basket serves several purposes. First, it conveys accused persons before trial from the vari- ous prisons to the Palais, there to be questioned by the examining magistrate. In prison language this is called " going up for examination." Also it conveys accused persons to the Palais for trial, unless the case is one for the correctional police-courts, which take cognizance of misdemeanors only. When " a big crim- inal," to use a Palais term, is concerned the salad-bas- ket conveys him from the various houses of correction to the Conciergerie, which is the jail for the depart- ment of the Seine. Finally, criminals condemned to Zucien de Rubempre. 235 death are taken in it from Bicetre (where prisoners under capital sentence are confined) to the barriere Saint-Jacques, the place designated for executions after the revolution of July. Thanks to philanthropy, these unhappy wretches no longer suffer the torture of con- veyance from the Conciergerie to the Place de Greve in a cart exactly like that used for the conveyance of wood. That cart is only used now for conveyance from the scaffold. It is impossible to go to execution more comfortably than by the present system in Paris. At this moment the two salad-baskets, issuing so early in the morning, were engaged, somewhat excep- tionally, in transferring two accused persons from the house of correction called La Force to the Concier- gerie ; each of these prisoners had a salad-basket to himself. Nine-tenths of readers, and nine-tenths of the last tenth are ignorant of the very considerable differences that exist among the words inculpe [suspected per- son], prevenu [accused person], accuse" [indicted person], detenu [convicted person, prisoner], maison d 'arret [house of correction], maison de justice or maison de detention [jail, or prison]. Readers will be surprised to hear that our whole process of criminal law lies in those terms, which will presently be ex- plained for the elucidation of our story. When it is known that the first salad-basket contained Jacques Collin, and the second Lucien de Rubempre, fallen in a few hours from the summit of grandeur to a prisoner's cell, the curiosity of readers will be sufficiently excited to make them glad of these details. The attitude of the two accomplices was character- 236 Lucien de Rubempre'. istic. Lucien de Rubempre hid his face to escape the glances which the street passengers cast through the front grating of the ill-omened vehicle as it went from the rue Saint- Antoine to the quays, through the rue du Martooi and the arcade of Saint- Jean, beneath which it had to pass in order to cross the Place of the Hotel- de-Ville. To-day that arcade forms the entrance to the house of the prefect of the Seine, in the vast municipal structure. The bold galley-slave, on the contrary, held his face as near as he could get it to the grating, between the policeman and the gendarme, who, certain of the security of their vehicle, gave no heed to the prisoner, and were talking of their own affairs. The days of July, 1830, and their formidable whirl- wind did so overlay with their uproar anterior events, political interests were so absorbing during the last six months of that year, that few persons at the present moment remember the private, financial, or judicial catastrophes, singular as they were, which formed the food of Parisian curiosity during the early months of that year. It is therefore necessary to state how all Paris was momentarily agitated by the news of the arrest of a Spanish priest found in the house of a cour- tesan, and that of the elegant Lucien de Rubempre, the suitor of Mademoiselle de Grandlieu, arrested on the high-road to Italy near the little village of Grey ; both of them being suspected of a murder the profits of which would have exceeded seven millions. The ex- citement caused by this scandal even surpassed for several days the immense interest taken in the last elections under Charles X. In the first place this criminal affair involved, as a Lucien de Bubempre. 237 party concerned in it, one of the richest bankers in Paris, Baron de Nucingen. Then Lucien, on the eve of becoming private secretary to the prime minister, be- longed to the very highest circle of Parisian society. In all the salons of Paris it was remembered that the beautiful Duchesse de Maufrigneuse had taken him up, and that he was then intimate with Madame de Serizy, wife of one of the ministers of State. Also, the beauty of the victim had remarkable celebrity in the various worlds which compose Paris, — the great world, the financial world, the world of courtesans, the world of young men, the literary world. For two days all Paris had been talking of these arrests. The examining judge, on whom the affair devolved, Monsieur Cam- usot, saw in it a chance for his own advancement, and, in order to proceed with as much alertness as possible, he had ordered the transference of the two accused persons from La Force to the Conciergerie as soon as Lucien de Rubempre should arrive from Fontainebleau. Before entering into the terrible drama of a crim- inal examination, it is necessary to explain the nor- mal process of a case of this kind, so that its divers phases may be better understood both by Frenchmen and foreigners ; who will thus be enabled to appreciate more fully our system of criminal law as the legisla- tors under Napoleon conceived it. This is all the more important because that great and noble work is at this moment threatened with destruction by a new system calling itself reformatory. A crime is committed. If detected in the act, the suspected persons are taken to the nearest guard- house and put in the cell called in popular parlance 238 Lucien de Rubempre. "the violin," probably on account of the music — of cries and tears — that is heard there. From there they are taken before the commissary of police, who makes a preliminary inquiry and has the power to release them if a mistake has been made ; otherwise they are next taken to the dep6t, or guard-house of the prefecture, where the police hold them at the dis- position of the prosecuting officer and the examining judge, who, being informed of the affair, more or less promptly according to the gravity of the case, come to the dep6t and question the parties who are in a condi- tion of provisional arrest. According to the presump- tive nature of the case the examining judge issues a warrant and orders the accused person locked up in a house of correction. Paris has three such houses : Saint-Pelagie, La Force, and Les Madelonnettes. Remark the term "suspected person" [inculpe, in- culpated person]. Our code has created three essen- tial distinctions in criminality, — inculpation, arraign- ment, indictment. So long as the warrant for arrest is not signed, the presumed authors of the crime, or the grave misdemeanor, are only suspected persons ; under the warrant of arrest they become accused per- sons [prevenu'], and they remain simply accused as long as the examination continues. When the examination ends and the judge decides that the accused persons must be referred to a court of justice, they pass to the condition of indicted persons [accuse] as soon as the Royal court decides, on the application of its attorney-general, that there is sufficient ground to send the case before the court of assizes. Thus persons suspected of crime pass through three states, three Lucien de Bubempre. 239 sieves, preliminary to their appearance before what is called the justice of the land. In the first state, in- nocent persons have various means for making known their innocence, — through the public, their keepers, the police. In the second state, they come before a magistrate, are confronted with witnesses, and judged, — in chambers in Paris, or by a whole court in the departments. In the third state, they appear before a dozen judges, and the sentence of transfer- ence to the court of assizes may, in case of error or defect of form, be carried by the indicted persons be- fore the Court of Appeals. A jury does not know how many ears of municipal, administrative, and judi- cial authority it boxes when it acquits an indicted person. Therefore it seems to us that in Paris (we are not speaking of other places) it is a difficult matter for an innocent person ever to reach the benches of the court of assizes. The convicted person [detenu] is the condemned man. Our criminal law has created houses of correc- tion, jails, and prisons [maisons d'arr&t, de justice, et detention], with differences which correspond to those of accused, indicted, and convicted. The punishment of mere incarceration is light, and is given for the les- ser misdemeanors ; that of imprisonment means bodily restraint, and is, in some cases, ignominious. Those who propose to-day a general reformatory system are simply overthrowing an admirable criminal equity of graduated punishment ; and they will end in punish- ing peccadilloes almost as severely as great crimes. Compare the curious differences which exist between the criminal law of the Code Brumaire, year IV., and the Code Napoleon which was substituted for it. 240 Lucien de Rubempre. In nearly all great criminal cases, like the one with which we are now concerned, the suspected persons become almost immediately accused persons. The law at once gives the warrant for removal to the prefecture and the warrant of arrest. Thus, as we have seen, the police and the law both fell together with the rapid- ity of lightning upon Esther's house. Even if no sus- picions of murder and revenge had been whispered by Corentin into the ears of the judiciary police, the Baron de Nucingen had denounced a robbery of seven hundred thousand francs. As the first salad-basket, containing Jacques Collin, reached the dark and narrow passage of the arcade of Saint Jean, an obstruction of some kind forced the postilion to stop beneath it. The eyes of the accused man shone through the grating like a pair of carbun- cles, in spite of the mask of death on his features, to which the governor of La Force had felt it his duty to call the attention of the doctor of the prison. Free at this moment (for neither the gendarme nor the policeman looked round at their "customer") those flaming eyes spoke a language so dear that a clever examining judge, like Popinot for example, would have recognized the galley-slave in the priest. Jacques Collin, from the moment that the salad-basket issued from the gateway of La Force, had examined every- thing on the way. Though the vehicle was driven fast, his eye took in the houses with its eager but thorough glance, from their garrets to the street level. He saw all the passers, and analyzed them. An omniscient eye could scarcely have seized creation, in its means and ends, more completely than this man Lucien de Bubempre. 241 caught up the slightest details in the mass of things and human beings that passed him. Armed with a hope, as the last of the Horatii with his sword, he expected succor. To any other man than a Machia- velli of the galleys, the hope would have seemed so impossible to realize that he would certainly have let himself go mechanically, as most culprits do ; for few of them ever dream of resisting the situation in which the law and the police of Paris place accused persons, — especially those who, like Jacques Collin and Lucien, are in solitary confinement. It is difficult for those at large to imagine what this sudden isolation is to the accused person ; the gendarmes who arrest him, those who convey him to the lock-up, the turnkeys who place him in what is literally a dungeon, those who take him by the arm and make him mount the step into the salad-basket, in short, all the beings who surround him from the time of his arrest are mute, and notice him only to make a record of his words for the police or the judge. This absolute separation, so instantan- eously and easily brought about between the whole world and the accused person, causes an upset of all his faculties, and a fearful prostration of mind ; above all, when the person happens to be one not familiar, through his antecedents, with the ways of the law. The duel between the accused man and the examining judge is, therefore, all the more terrible because the latter has for auxiliary the silence of the walls and the incor- ruptible stolidity of the agents of the law. However, Jacques Collin, or Carlos Herrera (it is necessary to give him both names, according to the exigencies of each situation) , knew by long experience 16 242 Lucien de Rubemjpre. the ways of the police,. of jails, and of law. There- fore this colossus of craft and corruption had employed all the forces of his mind, and the resources of his art of counterfeiting, in playing surprise and the guileless- ness of innocence, — all the while giving the magis- trates the comedy of his death-agony. Asia, that knowing Locusta, had given him a poison modified to a degree that produced the semblance of mortal illness. The proceedings of Monsieur Camusot, the examining judge, those of the commissary of police, and the activity of the public prosecutor, were all hampered, if not annulled, by the action of a fit of apoplexy. " He must have poisoned himself ! " cried Monsieur Camusot, horror-struck at the sufferings of the so-called priest, when he was brought from the attic in horrible convulsions. Four policemen had the utmost difficulty in getting him down the stairs to Esther's chamber, where the magistrates and the gendarmes were assembled. " That is what he had better do if he is guilty/' said the public prosecutor. " Do you really think him ill?" said the commissary of police. The police doubt everything. The three officials were speaking, of course, in a whisper ; but Jacques Collin guessed from their faces the subject they were discussing, and he profited by it to render of no avail the first inquiries which are made at the moment of arrest. He stammered a few phrases in a mixture of Spanish and French that conveyed mere nonsense. At La Force this comedy had an equal success, all the greater because the chief of the detective brigade, Lucien de Bubempre. 243 Bibi-Lupin, who had formerly arrested Jacques Collin at the pension bourgeoise of Madame Vauquer, was on a mission in the departments, and his temporary suc- cessor had never known the famous convict. Bibi-Lupin, formerly a galley-slave, and a compan- ion of Jacques Collin at the galleys, was his personal enemy. This enmity had its rise in quarrels, from which Jacques Collin always issued uppermost, and in the supremacy exercised by Trompe-la-Mort over the other convicts. Moreover, Jacques Collin had been during ten years the providence of released galley- slaves, their chief, their adviser in Paris, the reposi- tory of their funds, and, consequently, the antagonist of Bibi-Lupin in his present capacity. Thus it was that, although he was au secret [in solitary confinement], he counted on the absolute and intelligent devotion of Asia, his right arm, and perhaps on Paccard, his left arm ; for he thought that careful lieutenant would return to his duty as soon as he had put the seven hundred and fifty thou- sand francs in safety. This was the reason of the almost superhuman attention with which he examined everything as the salad-basket went along. Singular to say, this hope was amply justified ! The two stout walls of the arcade of Saint- Jean were splashed to a height of six feet with a permanent coat- ing of mud thrown up from the gutter. Foot passen- gers had nothing to protect them from the incessant line of vehicles passing through the narrow way. More than once the heavy cart of some stone-cutter had crushed pedestrians. This will show the narrowness of the arcade, and the ease with which it could be 244 Lucien de RubemprL blocked. A hackney-coach had just entered it from the Place de Greve, and an old market-woman was pushing a little hand-cart full of apples from the rue du Martroi ; a third vehicle coming along naturally occasioned an obstruction. The pedestrians fled in alarm, seeking a post that might protect them from the old-fashioned hubs to the wheels, which projected so far that a law was actually passed about this very time to reduce them. When the salad-basket arrived, the arcade was fairly blocked by the old woman's hand-cart. She was a regular street-peddler of fruits ; her head, covered with a dirty cotton handkerchief of a checked pattern, bristled with rebellious locks that looked like the hair of a wild-boar. The red and wrinkled neck was horrible to behold, and the hand- kerchief on her shoulders did not wholly hide a skin that was discolored by the sun and dust and mud. Her gown was in rags, and her shoes grinned as if they were making fun of her face, which was quite as full of holes as her gown. And what a stomach ! — a poultice would have seemed less nauseous. At a dis- tance of ten paces, this fetid and ambulating bundle of rags was offensive to the nose. The hands must have gleaned a hundred harvests. Either this woman had come direct from a witch's sabbath, or from some haunt of mendicants. But what a glance ! what auda- cious intelligence ! what concentrated life when the magnetic gleams of her eyes and those of Jacques Col- lin met and exchanged a thought ! u Out of the way, you old bundle of vermin ! " cried the postilion of the salad-basket in a hoarse voice. " Don't you dare to crush me, hussar of the guillo- Lucien de Bubempre. 245 tine, you!" she replied. "Your merchandise ain't worth mine." In trying to squeeze between two posts, to get out of the way, the old woman blocked the passage long enough to accomplish her object. *' Oh, Asia ! " said Jacques Collin to himself, recog- nizing his accomplice at once, " all 's well now ! " The postilion continued to exchange amenities with the crone, and the vehicles accumulated. " Ahe! pecaire fermati. Sounildb. Vedrem!" cried Asia, with the wild intonations common to street ven- ders, who distort their words till they become cabalistic to any but a practised Parisian ear. In the hurly-burly of the street, and the shouts of the angry coachmen, no one paid attention to that sav- age cry, which seemed to be that of the old vender. But the clamor, perfectly distinct for Jacques Collin, cast into his ear, in a patois of Italian and corrupt Provencal previously agreed upon, these terrible words : 11 Your poor little one is taken ; but I am on the watch. You will see me again." In the midst of the joy he felt at this triumph over the power of the law, for he knew he could now estab- lish communication with the outside world, Jacques Collin was struck down by so violent a reaction that it would have killed any other man than he. "Lucien arrested !" he said to himself. He came near fainting away. This news was more awful to him far than the rejection of his last appeal had he been condemned to death. 246 Lucien de Bubempre. XVII. HISTORY, ARCHAEOLOGICAL, BIOGRAPHICAL, ANECDOTICAL, AND PHYSIOLOGICAL OF THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE. Now that the two salad-baskets are rolling along the quays, the interests of our present history require a few words on the Conciergerie during the time it will take those vehicles to arrive there. The Conciergerie, historic name and awful word, but thing more awful still, plays its part in all the revolutions of France, and especially in those of Paris. It has seen most of the great criminals. Of all the public buildings in Paris this is the most interesting ; it is also the least known — by persons belonging to the upper classes of society. But, in spite of the immense interest of this historical digression, we must make it as rapid as the advance of the salad-baskets. Where is the Parisian, the provincial, or the for- eigner, even if the two latter are but a couple of days in Paris, who has not remarked those black walls, flanked by three stout towers with pointed tops of which two are almost coupled, the sombre and mys- terious ornament of what is called the quai des Lunettes? This quay begins at the Pont au Change, and extends to the Pont Neuf. A square tower, called the Tour de l'Horloge, from which was given the sig- nal for the Saint-Barthelemy, — a tower almost as tall Lucien de Rubempre. 247 as that of Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie, — is tbe begin- ning of the Palais and forms the corner of the quay. These four towers and the walls are covered with that black shroud which drapes the front of buildings in Paris that face the north. Toward the middle of the qua3', at an unused arcade, begin a number of private buildings which were stopped by the construction of the Pont Neuf in the reign of Henri IV. The Place Royal was a replica of the Place Dauphine ; it shows the same system of architecture, and of brick sur- rounded by freestone angles and courses. The arcade and the rue du Harlay indicate the limits of the Palais on the west. Formerly the Prefecture of police, the residence of the parliament judges, was joined to the Palais ; and the Court of the Exchequer and the Tax office completed this abode of supreme law, once that of the sovereign. Before the Revolution, as we can see, the Palais really had the isolation which the government is endeavoring to create for itself in these days. This square, or we might call it this isle of public buildings, among which is the Sainte-Chapelle, the most magnificent gem in the jewel-case of Saint Louis, this space is the sanctuary of Paris ; it is the sacred place, the ark of the Lord. In the first place, it was the whole of the primitive city, for the ground now occupied by the Place Dauphine was a field belonging to the royal domain, in which was a windmill used for coining money. Hence the name of the rue de la Monnaie, given to the street that leads to the Pont Neuf. Hence also the name of one of the three round towers (the second), which is called the Tour d' Argent, which seems to prove that money was originally minted 248 Lucien de RubemprL there. The famous windmill, which can be seen on the ancient maps of Paris, is apparently of later date than the money struck in the palace itself, and was, no doubt, built for some improvement in the art of minting. The first tower, which is side by side with the Tour d' Argent, is called the Tour de Mont- gomery. The third, the smallest but the best pre- served of the three, for it has kept its battlements, is called the Tour Bonbec. The Sainte-Chapelle, with its four towers (including the Tour de l'Horloge), defines distinctly the precincts — the perimeter, as a clerk in the registry-office might say — of the Palais, from the days of the Merovingians to those of the first House of Valois. But for us, and in consequence of its transformations, this palace represents more espe- cially the epoch of Saint Louis. Charles V. was the first who abandoned the Palais to the parliament, an institution then newly created, and went to live under the protection of the Bastille, in the famous hotel de Saint-Paul. Under the last Valois, royalty removed from the Bastille to the Louvre, which had been its first bastille, that is, for- tress. The first dwelling of the kings of France, the palace of Saint Louis, which has always kept its name of i4 Palais" to signify the palace par excellence, is now completely enclosed in what is called the " Palais de Justice." It forms the basement or cellar of the modern buildings ; for it was built, like the Cathedral, in the Seine, but built so carefully that the highest water in the river scarcely reaches to its lower steps. The quai de l'Horloge buries about twenty feet of these ten times centennial buildings. Carriages roll Lucien de Buhempre. 249 along on the level of the capitals of the strong col- umns that support the three towers, the elevation of which must, in former times, have been in harmony with the elegant proportions of the palace, and grace- fully picturesque on the water side ; for even to-day these old towers rival in height the tallest public buildings in Paris. When we contemplate this vast capital from the top of the cupola of the Pantheon, the Palais with the Sainte-Chapelle still seems the most stupendous of all the monumental buildings of Paris. This palace of our kings, above which you walk as you cross the floor of the immense " Salle des Pas-Perdus," was a marvel of architecture ; it is so still to the intelligent eyes of the poet who studies it while he examines the Conciergerie. Alas ! the Con- ciergerie has ruthlessly invaded this regal and ancient palace. The heart bleeds to see how cells, corridors, lodging-rooms, and halls, without light or air, have been cut in this magnificent construction, where By- zantine, Roman, and Gothic art — those three aspects of ancient art — were united and reproduced in the architecture of the twelfth century. This palace is to the architectural history of France in the earliest times what the Chateau of Blois is to the architectural history of the middle ages. Just as at Blois, in the court-yard, you can admire the castle of the Comtes of Blois, that of Louis XII., that of Francois I., and that of Gaston d'Orleans, so at the Conciergerie you will find, within one precinct, the characteristics of the earliest races, and in the Sainte-Chapelle the architec- ture of Saint Louis. Ah, municipal council ! } 7 ou who 250 Lucien de EubemprS. spend millions ! put a poet or two beside your archi- tects if you would save the cradle of Paris, the cradle of our kings, while you busy yourself in bestowing upon Paris and its supreme court a palace worthy of France. It is a matter that should be studied for years before you commit yourself to action. Build a few more prisons like that of La Roquette, and the old Palais of Saint Louis could be redeemed. To-day many wounds have injured this vast monu- ment of the past, sunken beneath the palace and the quay like some fossil animal in the clay of Montmartre ; but the greatest of all is that of having been the Conciergerie ! That word, who does not understand it? In the first days of the monarchy great criminals — the villains (original name of peasants) and the burghers belong- ing to urbane or seigniorial jurisdictions, also the pos- sessors of " great or little fiefs" — were brought before the king and kept in the Conciergerie. The original Conciergerie must have been exactly where we find the judicial Conciergerie of the Parliament before 1825, namely, under the arcade to the right of the grand exterior staircase, which leads to the Cour Royale. From there, up to 1825, all persons condemned to death went to the scaffold. From there issued all great criminals, all victims of policy or statecraft, the Marechale d'Ancre and the Queen of France, Semblan- cay and Malesherbes, Damien and Danton, Desrues and Castaing. The office of Fouquier-Tinville, like that of the present public prosecutor, was placed so that he could see the persons condemned by the Revolutionary tri- bunal file in. That human being transformed into an axe could here give a last glance at his " batches." Zucien de RubemprL 251 After 1825, under the ministry of Monsieur de Peyronnet, a great change took place at the Palais. The old jailer's office, called the guichet of the Con- ciergerie, in which took place the ceremonies of regis- tration and of the toilette so-called, was closed up and removed to where it now is, between the Tour de l'Horloge and the Tour Montgomery, in an inner court- yard, indicated on the quay by an arcade. The salad- baskets enter this court-yard, where there is room for several to be stationed and turn with ease, and even find, in case of riot, complete protection behind the strong iron gates of the arcade. The Conciergerie of to-day, scarcely large enough to hold the present num- ber of indicted persons (averaging three hundred men and women), no longer lodges accused persons or con- victed ones, except on rare occasions like that which now brought Jacques Collin and Lucien de Rubempre within its walls. All those who are confined there are indicted persons who appear before the court of as- sizes. Occasionally the authorities permit some crim- inal of high station, already sufficiently dishonored by appearance in the dock at the assizes, to undergo his sentence there rather than in the prison of Melun or Poissy, where the disgrace of the punishment would be greater than his crime deserved. Ouvrard pre- ferred to stay in the Conciergerie rather than go to Sainte-Pelagie ; and at the present moment the notary Lehon and the Prince de Bergues are undergoing their sentences there under an arbitrary tolerance, but a humane one. Generally, accused persons, whether they are going before the examining judge or to the correctional police 252 Lucien de BubemprS. courts, are dropped by the salad-baskets at the Souri- ciere. The Souriciere is exactly opposite to the jailer's office [girichet], so-called from the wicket at its en- trance. Above it is the guard-room of the interior guard detailed from the gendarmerie of the depart- ment, and the staircase from below ends there. When the hour for the assembling of the court arrives, the turnkeys call the names of the accused, the gendarmes come down into the Souriciere, and each gendarme takes an accused person by the arm. Thus coupled they go up the staircase, across the guard-room, along the cor- ridors to a room adjoining the famous sixth court- room, in which are held the sessions of the correctional police court. Accused persons who go to the Concier- gerie for examination are taken the same way. All the different offices of the examining judges are in this part of the Palais, on different floors, and they are reached by wretched little staircases, among which persons unfamiliar with the Palais are certain to lose their way. The windows of these offices look either on the quay or into, the court-yard of the Conciergerie. It was here, therefore, that the salad-basket contain- ing Jacques Collin was making its way. Nothing can be more forbidding than the aspect of the place. Criminals and visitors see before them two wrought- iron gates, six feet apart, always opening one after the other ; and so scrupulously is everything and every- body watched that persons who have permits to visit the place must pass the first grating before the key is put into the second. Imagine therefore the diffi- culty of escape or of any communication with the out- side. The governor of the Conciergerie would smile in Lucien de Bubempre. 253 a way to freeze the boldest novelist who should suggest a thing so impossible. In the annals of the Concier- gerie only one escape is recorded ; that of Lavalette ; but the certainty of august connivance, now proved, must lessen, to our minds, if not the devotion of his wife, at least the danger of failure. Judging on the spot the nature of the obstacles, the greatest devotees of the heroic and marvellous will admit that through all time they have been what they still are, invincible. No description can give an idea of the strength of those walls and vaulted ceilings, — they must be seen. The number of jailers, turnkeys, warders (call them what you like) is not as large as might be imagined ; there are but twenty. Their dor- mitory and their beds differ in no degree from those of the "Pistole," — so named, no doubt, because in former times the prisoners were made to pay a pistole a week for their lodging, — the bareness of which re- calls the cold attic-rooms in which penniless great men begin their careers in Paris. These dormitories are to the right of an immense vaulted hall, the massive walls of which are supported by mighty columns. On the left is the " greffe" of the Conciergefie, — the registration office, where sit the di- rector and his clerk. Here the accused person, or the indicted person, is registered, described, and searched. Here is decided the kind of lodging he is to have, which depends upon the length of his purse. Opposite to the wicket of this door is a glass door, that of a parlor, in which the friends and lawyers of the accused may communicate with him through a double grating of wood. This parlor is lighted from the " preau," 254 Lucien de Ruhempre. an inner court-yard, where the prisoners are made to take air and exercise at stated hours. The great hall, dimly lighted from these two open- ings, for its solitary window looks upon the entrance court-yard, offers a spectacle and an atmosphere en- tirely in keeping with the preconceived ideas of the imagination. It is all the more terrifying because, parallel with the towers, you see openings into crypts, vaulted, mysterious, awful, without light, which lead to the dungeons of the Queen and Madame Elizabeth, and to the cells called " les secrets " where persons who are to be kept in solitary confinement are put. This labyrinth of stone is the subterranean region of the present Palais de Justice, having in its own great days been the " Palais " itself, the scene of the fetes of royalty. From 1825 to 1832, it was in this great hall, between a huge china stove, which warmed it, and the first of the iron gates, that the well-known operation of the toilette was done. We cannot step without a shudder over the flags of that pavement which have received the confidences of so many last glances. Lucien de Eubempre. 255 XVIII. HOW THE TWO ACCUSED PERSONS TOOK THEIR MISFORTUNE. When the salad-basket containing the Abbe Don Carlos Herrera reached the court-yard, the half-dying man required the assistance of two gendarmes to en- able him to leave the horrid vehicle. They each took an arm, supported him, and bore him, fainting, into the registration office. Thus dragged along, the suf- ferer raised his eyes to heaven ; no human face was ever more cadaverous, more painfully distorted than that of the unfortunate Spanish priest, who seemed on the point of giving up the ghost. When seated in the office, he repeated in a weak voice the words he had addressed to every one since his arrest : — " I appeal to his Excellency the ambassador of Spain." "You can say that," replied the director, "to the examining judge." "Oh, God!" sighed the priest. "Can I have a breviary? Will they still refuse me a doctor ? I have not two hours to live." As Carlos Herrera was to be kept in solitary con- finement, it was unnecessary to ask him if he wanted the benefits of the pistole — which means the right of occupying a room in which the law permits a little comfort; these rooms are situated at the end of the 256 Lucien de Rubempre. preau. The turnkey and the registration clerk went phlegmatically through the business of receiving and committing the prisoner. " Monsieur le directeur," said Herrera, in broken French, "lam dying, as you see. Say, if you can, to this judge of whom you speak, that I implore him, as a favor, to do what a criminal would fear, — to let me appear before him as soon as possible ; for my sufferings are really intolerable, and as soon as I can see him this dreadful mistake will end." Invariable rule ! all criminals talk of mistakes. Go to the galleys and question the convicts ; they will tell you they are victims to some error of the law. The word, therefore, brings an imperceptible smile to the lips of those who have to do with accused, indicted, and convicted persons. " I will mention your requests to the examining judge," said the director. " I bless you for that, monsieur," replied Herrera, raising his eyes to heaven. As soon as the formalities were over, Carlos Herrera, supported under each arm by two municipal guards, and accompanied by a turnkey, to whom the director named the solitary cell in which he was to place the accused person, was conducted, through the subterra- nean labyrinth of the Conciergerie to a room that was perfectly healthy (in spite of what philanthropists have said), but without any possible external communication. When he had been safely secured there, the jailers, the director, his clerk, and even the gendarmes looked at each other as if to ask opinions, and on all these faces a certain doubt was depicted. But on the ar- Lucien de Eubempre. 257 rival of the other accused person who was now brought in, they recovered their usual air of complete indiffer- ence. Unless under very extraordinary circumstances the employes of the Conciergerie have little curiosity ; criminals are to them what customers are to a barber. Thus formalities which would frighten the imagina- tion of others are conducted by them as simply as a banker does business, and often more politely. Lucien's appearance was that of a broken-down cul- prit ; he abandoned himself wholly and allowed them to do what they pleased with him. From the moment of his arrest at Fontainebleau, the poet considered himself ruined ; he felt that the moment of expiation had come. Pale, undone, ignorant of all that had happened as to Esther, he knew only that he was the intimate com- panion of an escaped galley-slave. That situation was enough to make him foresee catastrophes that were worse than death. If his thoughts turned to anything resembling a plan it was to suicide. He wanted to escape at any price from the ignominy which he saw before him like a dreadful dream. Carlos Herrera was placed, as the more dangerous of the two accused persons, in a cell built wholly of stone, which derived its light from one of those little inner courts of which there are several in the Palais. This little place served as preau or exercise yard for the women's section of the prison. Lucien was taken the same way, but the director had orders to show some special consideration for him, and he was placed in a cell adjoining the Pistoles. Most persons who have never had anything to do with criminal justice have the blackest ideas about 17 258 . Lucien de Bubempre. solitary confinement. They hardly separate them from the old ideas of torture, unhealthiness of dungeons, cold walls sweating tears of dampness, brutality of jailers and coarseness of food, — accessories required for the drama. It may not be useless to say here that these exaggerations exist only on the stage, and make judges, lawyers, officials, and all who visit pris- ons, either out of curiosity or on errands, laugh. No doubt the time was when imprisonment was terrible. It is quite certain that indicted persons under the old Parliament, and in the times of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. were cast pell-mell into a sort of entresol above the old " guichet." The prisons were the scenes of the most awful crimes of the Revolution ; it is enough merely to look at the dungeons of the Queen and that of Madame Elizabeth to be filled with the deepest horror at the old judicial system. But to-day, though philanthropy has inflicted incalculable evil on society, it has also produced some good for individuals. We owe to Napoleon our criminal code, which (more than the civil code, which stands in urgent need of reform on sev- eral points) will ever remain a noble monument to that short reign. This new code of laws closed forever an abyss of suffering. And it may be said that, putting aside the fearful mental and moral tortures of persons of the upper classes who find themselves in the grasp of the law, the action of this new power is of a gentle- ness and simplicity which seem all the greater because unexpected. Accused persons are certainly not lodged as they would be in their own homes, but all neces- saries are found in the prisons of Paris. It is not the body that suffers ; in fact, the mind is in so agitated Zucien de Rubempre. 259 a state that any form of being ill at ease, even brutal- ity if it were met with, can be easily supported. And it must be allowed that the innocent are quickly set at liberty, especially in Paris. Lucien found, therefore, in his cell a reproduction of the first room he had occupied on his arrival in Paris. A bed like those in the poorest furnished lodgings of the Latin quarter, chairs with straw seats, a table and a few utensils completed the furniture of a room in which were sometimes confined two indicted persons if their behavior were good and their crimes not danger- ous, — such, for instance, as forging and swindling This resemblance between his point of departure, bright with innocence, and his end at the lowest step of shame and degradation, was so instantly seized by a last flash of his poetic nature that he burst into tears. He wept for four hours, as insensible apparently to every- thing about him as a stone image, but suffering anguish from his broken hopes, his shattered social vanities, his annihilated pride ; degraded in that I and all that /represented of ambition, adoration, luck, of the poet, the Parisian, the dandy, the man of pleasure, and of social privilege and success ! All was crushed within him by this Icarian fall. Carlos Herrera, for his part, walked round and round his cell, as soon as he was alone, like the bear in his cage at the Jardin des Plantes. He examined the door carefully and made sure that no hole, except the regular peep-hole called the " judas," had been bored in it. He sounded all the walls. He looked up the chimney-funnel, down which a feeble ray of light descended, and said to himself : — 260 Zucien de BubemprS. "lam safe." Then he seated himself in a corner where the eye of a turnkey applied to the peep-hole could not see him. Next he took off his wig and rapidly loosened a paper which was fastened to the inside of it. The side of this paper which the head had touched was so greasy that it looked like the integument of the wig. If Bibi-Lupin had had the idea of pulling off that wig to establish the identity of the Spanish priest with Jacques Collin, he would not have discovered the paper, so completely did it seem a part of the wig-maker's work. The other side of the paper was still sufficiently clean and white to re- ceive a few written lines. The slow and difficult process of ungumming the paper from the wig had been begun at La Force ; two hours would not suffice for the work, and the accused had already spent half of the previous day upon it. He now began by paring off the precious paper so as to get a strip of four or five lines in width ; this he divided into several pieces ; next, he replaced his provision of paper in the singular storehouse from which he had taken it, after having wet the layer of gum-arabic, by help of which he was able to reattach it to the wig. He then hunted through the wig for one of those pencils, slender as a pin, lately in- vented by Susse, which was securely gummed into the hair. He took a fragment of it long enough to write with and small enough to hide in a fold of his ear. After these preparations, made with the rapidity and firmness of execution characteristic of old convicts who are nimble as monkeys, Jacques Collin sat down upon the side of his bed and applied himself to meditate on the instructions he should give to Asia ; feeling abso- Lucien de Eubempre. 261 lutely certain that she would meet him somewhere, for he knew he could rely on the woman's genius. " In my first examination," he said to himself, " I played the Spaniard, speaking broken French and appealing to his ambassador, relying on diplomatic privileges, and unable to understand what was de- manded of him, — all that, interspersed with fainting- fits, gasps, hoax of dying. Better keep on that ground. My papers are all right. Asia and I can chew up Monsieur Camusot ; he 's not strong ! It is Lucien I must think about ; the question is, to give him moral strength. I must get at the boy, at any cost, and show him a line of conduct, or he will betray himself, and betray me, and all is lost. He must be taught what to say before his examination. And then, too, I want witnesses who '11 prove that I am a priest." Such was the moral and physical condition of the two accused persons, whose fate depended at this mo- ment on Monsieur Camusot, examining judge for the first court of the Seine, sovereign disposer, during the time that the criminal code gave him, of the most minute details of their existence ; for he alone could permit the chaplain, the doctor of the Conciergerie, or any one else, no matter who, to communicate with them. No human power, not the King, not the Keeper of the Seals, nor the prime minister, can trench upon the power of the examining judge ; no one can order him, nothing can stop him. He is a sovereign, subject only to his own conscience and the law. At this moment, when philosophers, philanthropists, and newspaper writers are incessantly occupied in diminishing social 262 Lucien de Rubempre. powers, the rights conferred by our laws on examining judges have become the objects of attack, the more virulent because they are almost justified by those rights which are, let us say it here, excessive. Never- theless, every man of judgment must admit that these rights ought not to be attacked. They might, it is true, in certain cases, be modified by an exercise of caution. But society, already much shaken by the weakness and want of intelligence of juries, — an au- gust institution, whose duties should not be committed to any but notable men, — would be threatened with ruin if this strong column which supports our Criminal Law were broken. Arrest on suspicion is one of those terrible necessities, the social danger of which is coun- terbalanced by its very greatness. Besides, distrust of the magistracy is the beginning of social dissolution. Reconstruct the institution on other bases ; demand, as before the Revolution, immense guarantees of prop- erty from the magistracy ; but believe in it ; trust in it ; do not make it an image of society only to insult it. In these days, the magistrate, paid like a poor func- tionary, has exchanged his former dignity for a haughty and assuming manner which makes him intolerable to the equals who are given him ; for haughtiness and assumption are an attempt at dignity without ground of support. There lies the evil of the present institution. The only real amelioration that should be asked for in the exercise of the power given to examining magis- trates [juges d' instruction], is an improvement in the houses of correction [maisons d'arr&t, — the prisons to which accused but not convicted persons are taken]. Those of Paris should be rebuilt, furnished, and ar- Lucien de Eubempre. 263 ranged in a manner to modify the public ideas as to the just position of accused persons. The law arrest- ing such persons is good ; the execution of it is bad ; and the custom of the world is to judge of a law by its execution. At the present time public opinion con- demns the accused person and defends the indicted one, by a curious contradiction. Perhaps this is the result of the essentially carping or critical spirit of Frenchmen. This inconsistency in the Parisian public was one of the causes which led, as we shall see, to the catastrophe of the present drama. To be in the secret of the terrible scenes which are enacted in the office of an examining judge ; to fully understand the respective situations of the two antago- nists, — the accused person and the magistrate, — the object of whose struggle is the secret guarded by the accused against the curiosity of the judge (who is called, in prisoners' slang, the Curious), we must never forget that the accused persons, who have been in solitary confinement from the moment of their arrest, are ignorant of all that the public says, all that the police and the judges know, all that the newspapers publish, as to the crime of which they are accused. Therefore to give an accused, held au secret, a piece of information such as that Jacques Collin had received from Asia about Lucien's arrest, was like flinging a rope to a drowning man. It resulted, as we shall see, in defeating an effort which would otherwise have ended, undoubtedly, in the ruin of the galley- slave. These points once explained, the least emo- tional person will tremble at the effect produced by three causes of terror, — isolation, silence, and remorse. 264 Lucien de BubemprS. XIX. THE PERPLEXITIES OF AN EXAMINING JUDGE AND HIS CURTAIN LECTURES. Monsieur Camusot, son-in-law of one of the ushers of the King's cabinet, already too well known to our readers to need any explanation of his affiliations and his position, was at this moment in a state of perplex- ity almost equal to that of Carlos Herrera, in relation to the examination now before him. Formerly justice of a provincial court, he had been called from that position and appointed judge in Paris by the influence of the celebrated Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, whose husband, equerry to the Dauphin and colonel of one of the regi- ments of cavalry of the Royal Guard, stood as high in the favor of the King as his wife did in that of Madame. For a very slight but important service rendered to the duchess on the occasion of a charge of forgery brought against the young Comte d'Esgrignon by a banker of Alencon (see " The Gallery of An- tiquities ") he rose from being a simple provincial justice to the station of first examining judge in Paris. For the last eighteen months he had served in the most important court of Paris ; and already he had been called upon, at the request of the Duchesse de Mau- frigneuse, to lend himself to the interests of another great lady, the Marquise d'Espard ; but there he had failed. Lucien, as we heard him say at the beginning Lucien de Bubempre. 265 of this history, in order to revenge himself on Madame d'Espard had shown certain facts against her to the attorney-general and the Comte de Serizy at the time she tried to put an injunction on her husband. These two great powers once secured by the friends of the Marquis d'Espard, the wife was only saved from open blame in court by the clemency of her husband. The previous evening, when the news of Lucien's arrest became known, Madame d'Espard had sent her brother to Madame Camusot, and Madame Camusot had gone, incontinently, to pay a visit to the Marquise d'Espard. On her return, and just before dinner, she called her husband into the privacy of their bed- chamber. " If you can send that little puppy Lucien de Rubempre before the court of assizes and in such a way that he is sure to be condemned," she whispered in his ear, "you will be made counsellor to the Royal Court." "How so?" "Madame d'Espard wants that poor young fellow decapitated. I had cold chills down my back as I listened to the hatred of a pretty woman." "Pray don't meddle with legal matters," replied Camusot. "I — meddle ! " she retorted. " Any one might have listened to us, without knowing what we were talking of. The marquise and I were as delightfully hypo- critical to each other as you are to me at the present moment. She said she wished to thank me for your kind efforts in her affair, for though they were unsuc- 266 Lucien de RubemprL cessful, she was none the less grateful. Then she talked of the terrible mission the law confided to an examin- ing judge in this matter of Rubempre. ' It is frightful to think of sending a human being to the scaffold ; but in this case, justice,' etc., etc. She deplored the fact that a young man brought to Paris by her cousin Madame du Chatelet, should have turned out so ill. ' This is where such corrupt women,' she said, ' as Coralie and Esther lead a man.' And then such fine tirades on religion, virtue, and charity ! Madame du Chatelet had told her that Lucien deserved a hun- dred deaths for having almost killed his mother and sister. Then she talked of a vacancy in the Royal Court, adding that the Keeper of the Seals was a friend of hers. Your husband, madame ' she said finally, 4 has a fine occasion to distinguish himself ' — There ! " " We distinguish ourselves every day by doing our duty," said Camusot. "You'll go far! — you are a magistrate every- where, even with your wife ! " cried Madame Camusot. " Tiens, I have sometimes thought you were a ninny, but to-day I admire j t ou." The magistrate had a smile upon his lips, of the kind that belongs to a magistrate only, as the smile of a danseuse belongs to a danseuse only. "Madame, may I come in?" said the voice of Madame Camusot's waiting-maid at the door. "What is it?" said her mistress. " Madame, the head maid of Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse came here while madame was out, and begs madame, in the name of her mistress, to go to the hotel de Cadigan without a moment's delay." Lucien de Rubemjpre. 267 "Put the dinner back," said the judge's wife, re- membering that the hackney-coachman was still wait- ing to be paid. She got back into the coach and reached the h6tel de Cadignan in twenty minutes. There she was kept waiting alone for ten minutes, in a boudoir next to the bedroom of the duchess, who presently appeared, resplendent, for she was just start- ing for Saint-Cloud to dine at court. * « Ah ! my dear, there you are ; between you and me two words will suffice." "Yes, indeed, Madame la duchesse." "Lucien de Rubempre is arrested; your husband examines the affair. I guarantee the innocence of that poor boy ; he must be set at liberty within twenty- four hours. But that's not all. Some one wants to see Lucien privately to-morrow in prison ; your hus- band can, if he wishes, be present provided this person does n't see him. I am faithful to those who serve me, as you know. The king expects much from the courage of his magistrates under certain grave circumstances in which he will soon be placed ; I will put your husband forward, and recommend him as a man devoted to the king even at the risk of his head. Our Camusot shall be made councillor, and chief -justice somewhere, but no matter where. Adieu, I am due at court ; you '11 excuse me, I know. You will not only oblige the attorney-general (whose name must not be men- tioned in this affair), but also a woman who is deeply concerned about it, Madame de Serizy. So you won't want for supporters. Now you see what confidence I place in you ; I need n't urge you to — you know ! " She put a finger on her lips and disappeared. 268 Lucien de EubemprS. "And I hadn't time to tell her that Madame d'Espard wants to see Lucien on the scaffold ! " thought the judge's wife as she returned to the hack- ney-coach. She reached home in such a state of anxiety that the judge exclaimed when he saw her : — "Amelie! what is the matter?" " We are caught between two fires." She related her interview with the duchess, speaking in her husband's ear, for she feared her waiting-maid might be listening at the door. "Which of the two is most powerful?" she asked as she ended. " The marquise nearly compromised you in that foolish affair of her husband's injunction, whereas we owe all that we are to the duchess. One makes me vague promises, while the other says dis- tinctly, ' You shall be, first, councillor, and then chief- justice.' God keep me from giving you any advice ; I never meddle with legal matters ; but I ought to tell you faithfully what is said at court, and what is pre- paring there." "You don't know, Amelie, what the prefect of police sent me this morning ; and by whom ? by one of the most important men in the police of the kingdom, a man named Corentin, who tells me that the State has certain secret interests in this affair. Come to dinner, and let us go to the Varietes. We'll talk this over to-night, for I need your intelligence, — that of a judge is n't enough." Nine-tenths of the judges will deny the influence of a wife over her husband in such circumstances ; but, even if it be a marked social exception, it is very cer- Lucien de JRubempre. 269 tain that it is occasionally a fact. The magistrate is like the priest ; in Paris especially, where the elite of the magistracy are found, he seldom speaks of the affairs of the Palais, unless they have reached a ver- dict. The wives of magistrates not only affect to know nothing, but they have, all of them, sufficient sense of conventional propriety to know that they would injure their husbands if, being possessed of any secret, they allowed it to be seen. Still, on great occasions when it is a question of advancement depending on such or such a course, many wives have assisted, as Amelie was now doing, their husbands' deliberations. These exceptions of course depend entirely on the re- lation of the two characters in the bosom of their family, — in this household, Madame Camusot ruled her husband absolute^. When everybody was asleep in the house, the magis- trate and his wife sat down at the desk on which the judge had already laid out the papers of the case. " Here are the memoranda the prefect of police sent me by Corentin," said Camusot. " The Abbe" Carlos Herrera. " This individual is, undoubtedly, the escaped convict Jacques Collin, called Trompe-la-Mort, whose last arrest was in the year 1819, and was made at the domicile of Madame Vauquer, keeper of a pension bourgeoise in the rue Neuve-Saint-Genevieve, where he concealed himself under the name of Vautrin." On the margin of this memorandum, was written in the hand-writing of the prefect of police : — r 270 Lucien de EubemprS. " Orders have been sent by telegraph to Bibi-Lupin, chief of the detective brigade, to return to Paris immediately to assist in identifying this man, as he personally knew Jacques Collin, whom he arrested in 1819 by the help of a Demoiselle Michonneau." The memorandum continued : — " The boarders in the Vauquer house are still living and can be summoned to identify him. "The so-called Carlos Herrera is the intimate friend of Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre ; to whom, for a period of three years, he furnished considerable sums of money, de- rived, evidently, from crime. "This intimacy, if the identity of the so-called Spanish priest and Jacques Collin be established, will prove guilty knowledge on the part of the Sieur Lucien de Rubempre." On the margin was another note written by the pre- fect of police, as follows : — "It is within my personal knowledge that the Sieur Lucien de Rubempre has deceived and misled many persons as to the source from which he derived his money." " What do you say to that, Amelie ? " " It is very alarming," replied the wife. " Go on." " The substitution of the Spanish priest for the convict Collin is probably the result of some crime more ably com- mitted than that by which Cogniard made himself the Comte de Sainte-Helene." "Lucien de Rubempre". " Lucien Chardon, son of an apothecary at Angouleme, and whose mother was a Demoiselle de Rubempre, is per- Lucien de Bubempre. 271 mitted by an ordinance of the king to take the name of Rubempre. This ordinance was granted at the solicitation of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and the Comte de Serizy. " In 182-, this young man came to Paris without any means of subsistence, in the suite of Madame Sixte du Chatelet, then Madame de Bargeton, cousin of Madame d'Espard. " Disloyal toward Madame de Bargeton, he lived after a time matrimonially with a Demoiselle Coralie, an actress, now deceased, of the Gymnase, who left Monsieur Camusot, silk-dealer in the rue des Bourdonnais, for the said Lucien Chardon. " Plunged very soon into poverty by the insufficient means of this actress who supported him, he compromised his hon- orable brother-in-law, a printer at Angouleme, by uttering forged notes, for the payment of which David Sechard, the brother-in-law, was arrested during a short stay made by the said Lucien at Angouleme. " This affair led to the flight and disappearance of Ru- bempre, who soon after reappeared in Paris in company with the Abbe Carlos Herrera. " Without known means of subsistence, the Sieur Lucien spent, during the first three years after his return to Paris, not less than three hundred thousand francs, which he must have received from the so-called Abbe Carlos Herrera, — by what right or claim upon him ? " He has, moreover, recently paid more than a million for the purchase of the estate of Rubempre to meet a condition imposed on his marriage with Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu. The rupture of this marriage came about from inquiries made by the family of Grandlieu, to whom the Sieur Lucien had stated that he derived this sum from his sister and brother-in-law; these inquiries, pursued chiefly by the lawyer Derville, showed that the respectable Sechard couple were not only ignorant of the said purchase, but they even thought their brother deeply in debt. Moreover, the 272 Lucien de Bulempre. property of the Sechard couple does not amount, according to their sworn declaration, to more than three hundred thou- sand francs. " The Sieur Lucien lived secretly with Esther Gobseck, and it is certain that moneys paid to that demoiselle by the Baron de Nucingen were transferred by her to Lucien. " Lucien and his companion, the escaped convict, have been enabled to maintain themselves before the world by deriving their resources from the said Esther, who was formerly a registered prostitute." In spite of the repetition which these memoranda introduce into our account of this drama, it is neces- sary to report them verbatim, in order to show the part played by the police of Paris. The police have records [dossiers] of all the families and all the indi- viduals whose lives are in any way suspicious, or whose actions are reprehensible. They are ignorant of noth- ing. This enormous scrap-book, this ledger of con- sciences, is as carefully kept as that of the Bank of France on fortunes. Just as the Bank notes down the slightest delay in the matter of payments, weighs all credits, estimates capitalists, following with attentive eye all their operations, so does the police keep record of the non-respectability of citizens. Here, the inno- cent have nothing to fear ; the record is only of evil, but there it is complete. No matter how high-placed a family may be, it cannot secure itself from this social inquisition. It is, however, a power with discretion equal to its force. This immense quantity of reports, notes, dossiers, memoranda, this ocean of information, sleeps motionless, deep and calm as the sea itself. "When some event occurs, some crime is committed, the Zucien de Bubempre. 21 Z law calls on the police, and instantly a memorandum is forthcoming as to the suspected person, of which the judge takes cognizance. These dossiers, however, in which the accused per- son's antecedents are analyzed, are mere sources of information, which remain hidden at the Prefecture ; the law can make no legal use of them ; they inform the law, and the law acts upon them ; that is all. These records furnish what might be called the reverse side of the tapestry of crimes, their first causes — usu- ally otherwise unknown. No jury would listen, and the whole country would rise in indignation, if any word of these memoranda were produced at the court of assizes. It is actually a case of Truth compelled to stay at the bottom of her well. No magistrate, after a dozen years' practice in Paris, is ignorant of the fact that the court of assizes and the correctional police have secret knowledge of existing evils, which are like nests where flagrant crimes have been brooded and hatched ; he will own that law and justice do not punish more than half the crimes that are committed. If the public knew to what an extreme the discretion of the police agents is carried, they would revere such fine fellows as the Cheverus. People think the police crafty and Machiavellian ; they are extremely kind, — but while they listen patiently to outbreaks of passion, they obtain information and they keep notes ! "We'll forget all that," said the judge, replacing the papers in a portfolio; "those are secrets between the police and the law ; the judge may decide what they are worth; but Monsieur and Madame Camusot have known nothing about them." 18 274 Lucien de Bubempre. " Why do you repeat that?" said Madame Camusot. " Lucien is guilty," said the judge, " but of what? " U A man who is loved by the Duchesse de Maufri- gneuse, the Comtesse de Serizy, and Clotilde de Grand- lieu is not guilty," replied Amelie; "the other man must have done it all." " But Lucien is an accomplice," cried Camusot. M Will you trust me?" said Amelie. " Restore the priest to the diplomacy of which he is such a noble ornament, declare that miserable little fool innocent, and find some other persons guilty of the crime — " "How you run on!" said the judge, smiling. " Women fly to their ends across the laws as a bird flies through air without an obstacle." "But," said Amelie, "that abbe, diplomat, or con- vict, as you please, can certainly put you on the track of other guilty persons to save himself." "Ah!" cried Camusot, in admiration of his wife, " I 'm nothing but the cap ; you are the head." "Well, then, the session is over! Come and kiss your Melie ; it is past one o'clock." And Madame Camusot went off to bed, leaving her husband to sort his papers and his ideas preparatory to the examination he was to make on the morrow of the two accused persons. Consequently, while the salad-baskets were making their way to the Conciergerie, bearing Jacques Collin and Lucien, the examining judge, after duly break- fasting, crossed Paris on foot, according to the simple habits of the Parisian magistracy, to reach his office, where the papers of his cases had already arrived — in this wise : — Lucien de Bubempre. 275 Every examining judge has a clerk, a sort of sworn- in judicial secretary, a race which perpetuates itself without bounty, without encouragement, producing excellent persons in whom dumbness comes naturally and is absolute. An example of indiscretion on the part of these clerks is a thing unknown at the Palais from the earliest parliament until now. The perspec- tive of a humble office at the Palais, that of registrar, and a conscience about his calling, suffice to render the clerk of an examining judge a successful rival to the grave, — for the grave gives up its secrets since the advance of chemistry. This employe is the very pen of the judge. The clerk of Monsieur Camusot, a young man twenty-two years of age, named Coquart, had gone to the judge's house in the morning and taken all the papers and notes of the cases, which he had laid out in due order in the office, while the judge tv as lounging along the quays, looking at the novelties in the shop windows, and asking himself, " How am I to deal with a sly dog like Jacques Collin, if Jacques Collin it is ? Bibi- Lupin will certainly recognize him, and I must seem to be doing my official duty, if only for the eyes of the police. I do see such impossibil- ities that in my opinion it would be better to enlighten the countess and the duchess by showing them those police notes. Besides, I should be revenging my father, from whom Lucien took Coralie. By unmask- ing such vile scoundrels my ability will be proclaimed, and Lucien will soon be given up by all these friends of his. Well, the examination will help me to decide." Presently he went into one of the curiosity shops, attracted by a clock of Boule. 276 Lucien de Rubempre. 44 Not to be false to my own conscience and yet serve these two great ladies would be a masterpiece of cleverness," thought he. " Why ! " he exclaimed aloud as he saw the attorney-general, " you here, Monsieur de Granville! Are you in search of coins?" "That's a taste they say belongs to all the justi- ciary," replied the Comte de Granville, laughing. Then, after looking about the shop for a few min- utes as if he were finishing his search, he accompanied Camusot along the quay without any idea occurring to the judge's mind that the meeting was other than accidental. "You are to examine Monsieur de Rubempre' this morning, I am told," said the attorney-general. " Poor young man! I was very fond of him." "There are many charges against him," said Camusot. "Yes, I have read the police notes; but they are due, in part, to an agent who does not belong to the Prefecture, to the famous Corentin, a man who has caused more heads of innocent men to be cut off than you will send guilty to the scaffold and — But the fellow is beyond our reach. Without wishing to influ- ence the mind of a magistrate like yourself, I cannot help calling your attention to the fact that if you could acquire a certainty that Lucien was ignorant of the girl's will, it might be shown that he had no interest, so far as he was aware, in her death." "We are quite certain of his absence during the time the girl was poisoned," said Camusot. " He was watching on the road to Fontainebleau for the passing of Mademoiselle de Grandlieu and the Duchesse de Lenoncourt." Lucien de Bubempre. 277 ''Oh!" replied the attorney-general, "he still re- tained such hopes about his marriage with Mademoi- selle de Grandlieu (so the Duchesse de Grandlieu tells me herself) that it is quite impossible to believe so intelligent a fellow would risk everything by a useless crime." " Yes," said Camusot, " more especially if it is true that this Esther gave him all she won." " Derville and Nncingen say she died ignorant of the inheritance, which had, however, fallen to her some time ago," said the attorney-general. "But what do you really think about it?" asked Camusot; "there's the crime at any rate." m A crime probably committed by the servants," replied the attorney- general. "Unfortunately," observed Camusot, " it is more in the line of Jacques Collin,— for the Spanish priest is undoubtedly that escaped convict ; he would be the most likely person to rob the girl of that seven hun- dred thousand francs which the Baron de Nucingen knows she had in her possession." " Well, you will weigh it all, my dear Camusot; be prudent. The Abbe Carlos Herrera belongs to diplo- macy ; though, of course, an ambassador who com- mits a crime derives no immunity from his position. Is he, or is he not the Abbe Carlos Herrera? The whole question is there." And Monsieur de Granville bowed with the air of a man who does not wish for an answer. "He too wants to save Lucien," thought Camusot as he went along the quai des Lunettes, while the attorney-general entered the Palais by the cour de Harlay. 278 Lucien de Ruhempre. When Carausot reached the court-yard of the Con- ciergerie he turned into the director's office and taking that official by the arm led him to the middle of the paved court where no ear could overhear them. " My dear monsieur," he said, " do me the kindness to go yourself to La Force and ask your colleague there if he happens to have at this moment any con- victs who were at the galleys in Toulon between the years 1810 and 1815 ; and ascertain also whether you have any here yourself. If there are any at La Force we will transfer them here for a few days, and you must let me know if they recognize the Spanish priest as Jacques Collin, called Trompe-la-Mort." " Very good, monsieur ; but Bibi- Lupin has arrived." "Ah ! " cried the judge. 44 He was at Melun. They have told .him that the man is thought to be Trompe-la-Mort. He smiled with pleasure and is now waiting your orders." " Send him to me." The director of the Conciergerie then presented Jacques Collin's request to the judge, describing the deplorable physical condition of the man. 44 1 intended to examine him first," said the judge, 44 but not on account of his health. I received a note this morning from the director of La Force. It seems that the sly dog, who says he has been at the point of death for twenty-four hours, slept so soundly in his cell at La Force, that he never heard the doctor whom the director sent to him. The doctor did not feel his pulse, but let him sleep ; which proves, per- haps, that his conscience is as sound as his health. I shall only believe in his illness sufficiently to let me study his game," said Monsieur Camusot, smiling. Lucien de Bubempre. 279 " One learns some new thing every day from these prisoners," remarked the director of the Conciergerie. The Prefecture of the police communicates with the Conciergerie and with the sitting magistrates by means of underground passages. This explains the marvel- lous rapidity with which the administration and the judges of the court of assizes can obtain information during sessions. So that when Monsieur Camusot reached the head of the staircase which led to his office he found Bibi-Lupin, who had hurried up through the Salle des Pas-Perdus. "What zeal!" said the judge, smiling. " Ah ! if it 's he," replied the detective, " you '11 see a terrible row in the yard should there happen to be any old galley-slaves confined here." "Why so?" " Because Trompe-la-Mort has filched their funds, and I know they have sworn to exterminate him." "They " meant the convicts whose money, confided for the last twenty years to Trompe-la-Mort, had been spent on Lucien. " Can you find witnesses of his last arrest?" " Give me two summonses, and I promise to bring them to you to-day." " Coquart," said the judge, taking off his gloves and putting his hat and cane in a corner, " fill out two summonses as monsieur directs." He looked at himself in the mirror over the mantel- shelf on which stood, in place of a clock, a ewer and wash-basin, with a bottle of water and a glass on one side, and a lamp on the other. The judge rang the bell. An usher came, after a time. 280 Zucien de RubemprS. 1 * Are there any persons waiting ? " asked the judge of the usher, whose business it was to receive wit- nesses, examine their summonses and place them in the order of their arrival. "Yes, monsieur." 44 Take their names, and bring me the list." Examining judges, being chary of their time, are sometimes obliged to carry on several examinations at once. That is the reason of the long detention of wit- nesses who are taken to the room occupied by the ushers, into which the bells of all the examining judges ring. " After you have done that," added the judge to his usher, " you will go and fetch me the Abbe Carlos Herrera." 44 Ha!" cried Bibi-Lupin. "I was told he had turned himself into a priest and a Spaniard. Pooh! that 's only a new edition of Collet." "There is nothing new under the sun," remarked Camusot, signing two of those formidable summonses, which trouble the mind of every one, even those of the most innocent witnesses, whom the law commands to appear, under heavy penalties if they disobey. Lucien de Bubempre. 281 XX. ASIA AT WORK. Half an hoar earlier, Jacques Collin had ended his deep deliberations and was fully under arras. Noth- ing can better depict this figure of the people in revolt against the laws than the few lines which he had written on his greasy bits of paper. The meaning of the first was as follows, for it was in a language arranged between himself and Asia, a corruption of thieves' Latin, — hieroglyphics applied to ideas : — " Go to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse or to Madame de Serizy. One of them must see Lucien before his exami- nation and give him the paper here enclosed. Find our two thieves ; tell them to be ready to play the part I shall indi- cate to them. Go to Rastignac ; tell him, from him whom he met at the masked ball, to come here and certify that the Abbe Carlos Herrera does not in any way resemble Jacques Collin, arrested at Vauquer's. Obtain the same of Doctor Bianchon. Set Lucien'' s two women at work in the same direction." On the enclosed paper was written in good French : " Lucien, admit nothing as to me. I must be to you the Abbe Carlos Herrera. Not only is this your justification, but, if you show firmness now, you will gain seven millions and save your honor." 282 Lucien de BubemprS. These two bits of paper, gummed together on the written side so that they looked like a fragment of the same sheet, were rolled up with an art peculiar to those who brood at the galleys over means of escape. The whole took the form and consistence of those wads of wax which thrifty women apply to their needles when the eyes are broken. " If I am examined first, we are saved; but if it is the young one, all is lost," he thought as he sat waiting. The tension was so cruel that the strong man's face was covered with a white sweat. This stupendous being saw the True in his sphere of crime, as Moliere in his sphere of dramatic poesy, as Cuvier among vanished creations. Genius is, everywhere, Intuition. Below this phenomenon all other remark- able things are done by talent. In this consists the difference which separates persons of the first order from persons of the second order. Crime has its men of genius. Jacques Collin, brought to bay, applied a supreme effort of human intelligence against the steel armor of the law. As he heard the heavy grating of the locks and bolts of his door Carlos Herrera resumed the attitude and appearance of a dying man. In this he was aided by the intoxicating sense of joy the jailer's steps, pausing before his door, had caused him. He knew not by what means Asia would reach him, but he felt certain he should see her on his way to the judge's office, after the promise she had given him at the arcade of Saint- Jean. Asia, as soon as that fortunate meeting was over, Lucien de Bubempre. 283 had gone to the Greve, pushing the little hand-cart rapidly to the bottom of the embankment, where she hid it until such time as its true owner, now drinking the price of its hire in one of the low wineshops of the neighborhood, should return to find her property in the place agreed upon. Asia then took a hackney- coach on the place de l'H tel de Ville, saying to the driver, " To the Temple ! and quick, too \ II y a gras — there 's fat in it." A woman dressed as Asia now was could easily, and without exciting the slightest curiosity, be lost in the throng of that vast hall where all the rags of Paris accumulate, where swarm all ambulating peddlers, and the female dealers in old clothes gabble. The two accused persons were scarcely in their cells before she was being reclothed in a damp little room over one of those horrible shops where are sold the remains of materials stolen by tailors and dressmakers. It was kept by an old spinster called La Romette, from her baptismal name of Jeromette. La Romette was to the marchandes de toilette what those resourceful women were themselves to other women, called respectable but embarrassed, — a usurer at a hundred per cent. "My dear," said Asia on arriving, "I must be dressed. Make me a baroness of the faubourg Saint- Germain at the very least. Harness me up quick ! " she cried ; " my feet are in boiling oil ! You know the sort of gown I want. Out with your rouge ; find me some real lace, and a watch and a lot of charms to sparkle ! Send your girl to fetch a coach and let it wait at the back door." "Yes, madame," said the old maid, with the sub- 284 Lucien de BubemprS. mission and haste of a servant in presence of her mistress. If this scene had had a witness he would have seen at once that the woman concealed under the name of Asia was the proprietor of the place. "They've brought me diamonds," said La Romette as she was doing Asia's hair. " Are they stolen?" "I think so." "Then, whatever the profit may be, my dear, de- prive yourself of it. We have the Curious to fear for some time yet." We may now imagine how Asia appeared in the Salle des Pas-Perdus of the Palais de Justice, with a summons in her hand, asking to be guided through the corridors and staircases to the office of Monsieur Cam- usot, about a quarter of an hour before the arrival of that judge. She no longer resembled herself. After washing off, like an actress, her old woman's face, and putting on rouge and white paint, she had covered her head with an admirable blond wig. Dressed precisely like a lady of the faubourg Saint-Germain, she appeared to be about forty years of age, for she had covered her face with a black lace veil. A corset laced ruthlessly tight, compressed her culinary figure. Very well-gloved, wearing a bustle of considerable dimensions, she ex- haled as she passed along, an agreeable odor of mare- chale powder. Dangling a bag with a gold clasp in her hand, she divided her attention between the walls of the Palais, which she had entered apparently for the first time, and the chain of a pretty King Charles Zucien de Rubempre. 285 spaniel. A dowager of this kind was soon remarked by the black-robed denizens of the Salle des Pas-Ferdus. Besides the briefless barristers who sweep that hall with their gowns and call distinguished lawyers by their baptismal names to give the idea that they belong to the aristocracy of their order, there can often be seen in that huge lounging-place patient young fellows at the beck and call of busy lawyers, dancing attend- ance on the chance of a case coming up and requiring to be argued when the barrister employed upon it is not at hand. It would be a curious sight could we lay bare the varieties beneath these black gowns which walk about this immense hall in threes and sometimes in fours, producing by their conversation the mighty hum which echoes through this space so rightly named the Hall of the Wasted Steps, — for this incessant tramp- ing wears out a lawyer fully as much as the prodigal- ities of speech. Asia had counted on meeting these loungers of the Palais ; she laughed under her breath at the witticisms she overheard, and finally attracted the attention of Massol, a licentiate not as yet ad- mitted to the bar, and more interested in reporting for the " Gazette des Tribunaux " than in searching for clients. He now, with a smile, offered his services to the lady so richly dressed and agreeably perfumed. Asia, in a mincing head voice, explained to this obliging young gentleman that she was there on the summons of a judge named Camusot. " Ah ! in the affair Rubempre? " The case was already named ! " Well,- it is not myself, but my maid — a girl who calls herself Europe. I had her just twenty-four hours 286 Lucien de Bubemjpre. and then she ran away when she saw my porter bring me this summons." Then, like all old women whose life is passed in gossiping by their firesides, and instigated also by Massol, she recounted, with many parentheses, several of the misfortunes of her life, and the death of her husband, one of the three directors of the Territorial office. She consulted the young lawyer as to whether she ought to sue her son-in-law, the Comte de Gross- Narp, who made her daughter very unhappy, and asked whether the law allowed her to dispose of her fortune. Massol could not, in spite of his efforts, make out whether the summons was for the mistress or the maid. He had only glanced at the well-known paper, which, to save time, is printed, so that the clerks and judges are only obliged to fill in the blank lines left for the names of witnesses, their address, and the hour at which they are cited to appear. Asia made her companion explain to her the Palais (which she knew even better than he knew it himself), and finally ended by asking him at what hour Monsieur Camusot would come. " Well, in general, the examining judges begin their inquiry at ten o'clock." M It is a quarter to ten," she said, looking at a pretty little watch, a triumph of the art of jewelry, which made Massol think to himself: — " Where the devil does fortune poke itself." By this time, Asia had come as far as the dark hall looking out upon the court of the conciergerie, where the ushers all assembled. Seeing the entrance to the prison through the single window, she exclaimed : — Lucien de EubemprS. 287 "What are those great walls over there?" 11 That is the Conciergerie." "Ah! the Conciergerie, where our poor queen — How I should like to see her dungeon ! " " That is impossible, Madame la baronne," said the young lawyer, who had given his arm to the dowager. " It requires permits, which are very difficult to obtain." " They tell me," she went on, "that Louis XVIII. has himself written, in Latin, an inscription on the walls of Marie Antoinette's cell." " Yes, Madame la baronne." "I should like to know Latin that I might learn the words of that inscription. Do you think that Monsieur Camusot would give me a permit?" " That is not in his province. But he could ac- company you." "Could he leave his examinations?" she asked. " Oh," said Massol, " the accused could wait." " Tie?is ! yes, they are accused, that's true," said Asia, artlessly. " But I know Monsieur de Granville, your attorney-general." This information produced a magical effect upon the lawyer and the ushers who overheard it. 4 'Ah! you know the attorney-general," said Massol, who now thought it worth while to discover the name and address of the client whom fate had brought him. "Yes, I often meet him at the Serizys'. Monsieur de Serizy is a friend of his, and Madame de Serizy is a relation of mine, through the Ronqucrolles." "If Madame would like to step down to the Con- ciergerie," said an usher, "she — " "Yes, to be sure," said Massol. 288 Lucien de BubemprS. The ushers allowed the lawyer and the baroness to go down the staircase, and they were soon in the guard- room where the stairway from the Souriciere ends, — a place well-known to Asia, and which forms, as we have already shown, a post of observation through which every one from the prison must pass. "Ask these gentlemen if Monsieur Camusot has come," she said, observing the gendarmes who were playing cards on a bench. " Yes, madame, he has just come up from the Sou- riciere." u Souriciere ! " she exclaimed, " what is that? — Ah ! how stupid I was not to have gone directly to the Comte de Granville — I haven't the time now. Take me, if you please, to Monsieur Camusot before he gets to work." "Oh, madame, you have plenty of time to see Monsieur Camusot," said Massol. "If you send in your card he will spare you the annoyance of waiting in the antechamber among the witnesses. We have some consideration at the Palais for ladies like you. You have your cards witli you ? " At this moment Asia and her lawyer were exactly in front of the window in the guard-room which com- manded the office of the Conciergerie. The gendarmes tolerated for a time the presence of a baroness accom- panied by a lawyer. Asia let the latter relate to her the various horrible things that all young lawyers have to tell about what happens in that fateful office called " le guichet." She refused to believe that the " toilet of death" was made behind the iron railings which he pointed out to her ; but the corporal of gendarmes confirmed the fact. Lucien de Bubempre. 289 " How I should like to see that ! " she said. She stood there, chattering with the corporal and the lawyer till she saw Jacques Collin, supported by two gendarmes and preceded by Monsieur Camusot's usher, come out of the " guichet." "Ah! here comes the prison chaplain; perhaps he is going to prepare one of those unfortunate — " "No, madame," said the corporal, "that is an ac- cused person who is coming to be examined." " What is he accused of?" "He is implicated in a poisoning case." "Oh! I'd like to see him." "You can't stay here," said the corporal, "for he is in solitary confinement and he has to pass through this guard-room. Here, madame, go through this door to the staircase." 1 " Thank j^ou, monsieur," said the baroness, going towards the door as if to rush down the staircase ; then she seemed to lose her head and cried out, " But where am I? " Her voice was loud and it reached the ears of Jacques Collin ; she meant in this way to prepare him to see her. The corporal rushed at the baroness, seized her round the waist, and dragged her into the midst of four or five gendarmes, who had sprung up like one man ; for in this guard-room they distrust everybody. It was an arbitrary act, but a necessary one. The lawyer himself had exclaimed, " Oh, madame ! ma- dame ! " in frightened tones, so much did he fear being compromised. The Abbe Carlos Herrera, almost fainting, was allowed to sit down for a moment in the guard-room. 19 290 Lucien de RubemprS. " Poor man ! " said the baroness. " Is he guilty?" These words, though said in the ear of the young lawyer, were heard by every one, for the silence of death reigned in the guard-room. As privileged persons were occasionally permitted to see famous criminals as they passed from the prison through this guard-room, the gendarmes and the judge's usher who had charge of the abbe made no observation on the presence of the baroness. Besides, thanks to the promptness with which the corporal had grasped her person to prevent any communication between the accused and the visitor, a very reassuring space was left between them. " Let us go on ! " murmured Carlos Herrera, mak- ing an effort to rise. At this instant the little ball rolled from his sleeve, and the place where it stopped was noticed by the baroness, whose veil gave freedom to her eyes. Damp and greasy, it did not roll away ; for these little points, apparently insignificant, had all been calculated by Jacques Collin to produce success. When the prisoner had been taken up the stairs, Asia dropped her bag in a natural manner, stooped quickly to recover it, and as she did so picked up the ball, the color of which, being that of the dust and mud on the floor, kept it from being seen. "Ah!" she said, "it wrung my heart to see him. He must be dying." " Or trying to appear so," said the corporal. " Monsieur," said Asia to the lawyer, " please con- duct me at once to Monsieur Camusot ; I have come here on this very business ; he may be very glad to see me before he examines that poor abbe." Lucien de Bubempre. 291 The lawyer and the baroness left the guard-room with its fuliginous and oleaginous walls ; but when they reached the top of the staircase, the baroness gave a loud exclamation : — " My dog!" she cried. "Oh! monsieur, my poor dog!" And she darted like a crazy woman into the Salle des Pas-Perdus, asking eveiy one if they had seen her dog. She reached the Galerie des Marchandes and ran toward a stairway calling out : " I see him ! There he is ! " This staircase was the one that leads to the cour de Harlay, through which, her comedy played, she passed to the quai des Orfevres, where she flung herself into one of the hackney-coaches which stand there, and disappeared, carrying with her Europe's summons and the greasy wad of paper. " Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc ! " she cried to the driver. Asia could count on the inviolable secrecy of a cer- tain dealer in second-hand finery named Madame Nourrisson, also known under the name of Madame de Sainte-Esteve, who lent her not only her individuality but also her shop, — where Nucingen had bargained for the delivery of Esther. Asia was there as though she were at home, for she did actually occupy a room in Madame Nourrisson's apartment. She paid the fare, and went up to her chamber bowing to Madame Nourrisson in a manner to let her know she had no time to say a word. Secure from prying eyes, Asia began to unfold the papers with all the care that learned men give to un- rolling a palimpsest. Having read the instructions, 292 Lucien de EubemprS. she judged it necessary to copy the note to Lucien on clean note-paper. Then she went down to Madame Nourrisson's room and kept her talking, while a girl from the shop ran to call a coach from the Boulevard des ltaliens. In the course of her talk, Asia got from Madame Nourrisson the addresses of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and Madame de Serizy, which Madame Nourrisson knew through her intercourse with their waiting-maids. These various trips and minute occupations took over two hours. The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who lived in the upper part of the rue Saint-Honore, kept Madame de Sainte-Esteve waiting more than an hour ; though the maid after knocking had passed in, through the door of the boudoir, the card of " Madame de Sainte-Esteve," on which Asia had written, " Come on urgent business concerning Lucien." At the first glance which she cast on the duchess she saw that her visit had been ill-timed, and she hast- ened to excuse herself on the ground of the peril that threatened Lucien. "Who are you? " asked the duchess, without using any form of politeness and staring at Asia, who might be taken for a baroness by Maitre Massol in the Salle des Pas-Perdus, but who, in the little salon of the h6tel de Cadignan, presented the effect of a spot of cart-grease on a white satin dress. " I am a marchande de toilette, Madame la du- chesse, — for in circumstances like these people look for assistance to those whose business compels them to be absolutely discreet. I have never betrayed any one, and God knows how many great ladies have trusted Lucien de Rubempre. 293 their diamonds to me for months and borrowed false ones like their own — " "You have another name?" said the duchess, smil- ing at a recollection this answer brought to her mind. " Yes, Madame la duchesse, I am Madame de Sainte- Esteve on great occasions, but my name in business is Madame Nourrisson." " Ah ! very good," said the duchess, changing her tone. "I can," continued Asia, " do great services ; I have many secrets of husbands as well as of wives. I have had much to do with Monsieur de Marsay, whom Madame la duchesse — " "Enough! enough!" cried the duchess; "let us think of Lucien." "If Madame la duchesse wants to save him she must have the courage not to lose time in dressing herself ; besides, she could hardly look better than she does now. You are pretty enough to eat, though an old woman says it! Don't order your carriage, ma- dame ; come with me — I have a coach here — to Madame de Serizy if you wish to avoid greater evils than even the loss of that cherubim." "Go on, I'll follow you," said the duchess after a moment's hesitation. "Between us both," she re- flected, " we ought to give her the courage to act." In spite of the infernal activity of this Dorine of the galleys, three o'clock was striking as she entered, with the duchess, Madame de Serizy's h6tel in the rue de la Chaussee-d'Antin. But there, thanks to the duchess, not a moment was lost. They were both shown immediately into the presence of the countess 294 Lucien de BubemprS. who was lying on a sofa in a miniature cottage in a garden redolent of the perfume of flowers. "This is good," thought Asia, looking about her; "no one can overhear us here." u Ah! Diane, I shall die! what have you done?" cried the countess, springing up like a fawn, and seiz- ing the duchess by the shoulders she burst into tears. u Come, come, Leontine, there are occasions when women like us should act and not weep," said the duchess, forcing the countess to sit down beside her on the sofa. Asia studied the countess with that glance peculiar to depraved old women, which travels over the soul of another woman as the scalpel of a surgeon round a wound. Jacques Collin's companion recognized the signs of the rarest sentiment ever found in a woman of the world, — a true grief, the grief that ploughs ineffaceable furrows in the heart and face. The countess had counted forty-five spring-tides. At this moment there was not the slightest coquetry in her at- tire ; her muslin peignoir rumpled and creased showed her figure without the support of a corset. The eyes with their black circles and the stained cheeks proved plainly enough her bitter weeping. No belt secured the wrapper. The hair gathered into a knot under a lace cap had not been combed for twenty-four hours and revealed its thin short braid and straggling locks in all their poverty ; she had even forgotten to put on her false hair. " Madame," said Asia, " there is no time to lose — " Leontine looked up and saw the woman for the first time and made a movement of fear. Lucien de Rubempre. 295 "Who is it, Diane?" she said. " Whom do you suppose I should bring here, but some one devoted to Lucien and ready to serve us ? " "Madame, this is no time to whine, as the duchess said," cried the terrible Asia, taking the countess by the arm and shaking her. "If you want to save him there 's not a moment to be lost. He is innocent ; I swear it on the bones of my mother ! " "Oh yes! indeed he is," cried the countess, look- ing kindly at the horrible creature. "But," continued Asia, "if Monsieur Camusot ex- amines him the wrong way, he can make him out guilty in a couple of sentences. If you have the power to get into the Conciergerie and speak to him, go in- stantly — instantly — and give him this paper. If you do that, to-morrow he will be at liberty, — I guaran- tee it." "But," said the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, "if it is all-important to prevent Monsieur Camusot from examining him we can do that by writing him a line and sending it at once to the Palais by your footman, Leontine ; you can go to see Lucien later." " Then let us go into the house," said Madame de Serizy. 296 Lucien de RuhemprL XXI. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND WHICH WINS? Here is what was happening at the Palais while Lucien's protectresses were obeying the orders sent to them by Jacques Collin. The gendarmes placed the half-fainting man upon a chair facing the window in Monsieur Camusot's office ; the judge was sitting in his arm-chair before his desk ; Coquart, pen in hand, occupied a little table a few paces from the judge. The arrangement of the office of an examining judge is not an accidental matter, and if it is not intention- ally done it must be owned that chance has treated justice like a sister. These magistrates resemble paint- ers, — they require a clear and equable light coming from the north ; for the faces of their criminals are pictures that must be constantly studied. Therefore nearly all examining judges place their desks like that of Camusot, turning their own backs to the window and consequently exposing the faces of those they exam- ine to the light. Not one of them, after exercising his functions for six months fails to assume an absent- minded, indifferent air during an examination — unless he wears spectacles. It was to a sudden change of countenance detected by this means, and caused by an unanswerable question asked suddenty, that Castaing's Zacien de Eubempre. 297 guilt was discovered at the ver}' moment when, after long deliberation with the attornej'-general, the judge was about to let loose that criminal on societ} 7 for want of proof. This little detail will show to the least perceptive persons how keen, dramatic, interesting, curious, and terrible a struggle is that of a crim- inal examination, — a struggle without witnesses, but always written down. God knows how much remains upon the paper of these icy-burning scenes, in which a glance, a tone, a tremor of the face, the slightest touch of color given b}* a feeling, — all is perilous, like the peril of savages watching and stalking each other to discovery and death. The written record, the procds-verbal, of such a scene is but the ashes of a conflagration. "What are }'Our true names?" asked Camusot of Jacques Collin. " Don Carlos Herrera, canon of the Rojal Chapter of Toledo ; secret envoy of his Majesty Ferdinand VII." It is to be remarked here that Carlos Herrera spoke French "like a Spanish cow," as the popular saying is ; murdering it in a way to make his answers almost unintelligible and necessitating constant repetition ; but we spare our readers the annoyance and delay of de- ciphering his words as pronounced. " You have papers to prove the status which } 7 ou claim?" asked the judge. "Yes, monsieur: a passport, a letter from his Catholic Majesty authorizing my mission — But }'OU could send immediately to the Spanish Embassy two lines, which I will write before you, and I should be claimed there. If you want further proof, I will write 298 Lucien de RuhemprS. to His Eminence the Grand Almoner of France, and he would send his private secretary to identify me." 44 Do you still pretend that you are very ill?" said Camusot. u If you had really endured the sufferings you have complained of since your arrest you would have died by this time," remarked the judge, ironically. " You are trying the courage of an innocent man, and exhausting the strength of his temperament," re- plied the accused, gently. " Coquart, ring the bell, and call for the physician of the Conciergerie and his attendant. We shall be obliged to take off your coat and proceed to verify the mark on }*our shoulder," resumed Camusot. " Monsieur, I am in jour hands." The accused then asked if the judge would have the kindness to explain what that mark was, and why they should look for it on his shoulder. The judge expected the question. "You are suspected of being Jacques Collin, an escaped convict, whose audacity flinches at nothing, not even the sacrilege of making yourself a priest," said the judge quickly, fastening his eyes upon those of the prisoner. Jacques Collin did not quiver or change color ; he continued calm and assumed an air of natural curios- ity as he looked at Camusot. " I ! monsieur, a convict? May the Order to which I belong and God forgive you for that mistake. Tell me all that I ought to do to keep you from persisting in so grave an insult to the rights of individuals, to the Church, and to the king my master." The judge explained, without replying to the ac- Laden de Bubempre. 299 cused, that if he were branded on the shoulder, as the law required in the case of convicts sentenced to the galleys, the letters would reappear when his shoulder was struck. ' Ah, monsieur," said the abbe, " it would be sad indeed if my devotion to the royal cause should now become an injury to me." " Explain yourself," said the judge ; " you are here for that purpose." "Monsieur, I have many scars on my back and shoulders, for I was shot in the back as a traitor to my country, whereas I was faithful to my king ; this was done by the Constitutionals, who left me for dead." " You were shot, and still live ! " said Camusot. " I had friends among the soldiery, to whom pious persons gave money ; they placed me at such a dis- tance that their balls were half spent ; the soldiers aimed for the back. That is a fact to which his Excel- lency the Spanish ambassador can certify." " This devil of a fellow has an answer to everything. So much the better," thought Camusot, who was mak- ing himself severe merely to satisfy the requirements of the law and the police. " How is it that a man of 3'our character was found in the house of Baron de Nucingen's mistress? — and such a mistress, a former prostitute ! " " The reason that I was found in that house is this, monsieur," replied Herrera — " But before I tell you the reason, I ought to explain that I had no sooner set foot on the staircase than I was seized with a fit and had no time to speak to the 3'oung woman. I had received information of her design to kill herself, 300 Lucien de EubemprS. and as this matter concerned the interests of Lucien de Rubempre, for whom I have an affection the motives of which are sacred to me, I went to the house to dis- suade that poor creature from the act to which her de- spair was leading her. I meant to tell her that Lucien would certainly fail in his efforts to marry Mademoiselle de Grandlieu ; that she herself had inherited a great fortune ; and I hoped in this way to give her courage to live. I feel certain, monsieur, that I was made the victim of the political secrets intrusted to me. From the way in which I was suddenly overcome, I believe I had been poisoned that morning ; but the vigor of my constitution saved me. I know that for a long time an agent of the political police has dogged me, and he may be endeavoring to implicate me in some dan- gerous affair. If when I was arrested you had com- plied with my request for a doctor you would have had the proof of what I now tell } r ou about my health. Believe me, monsieur, there are persons, placed far above us, who have a strong interest in identifying me with some criminal in order to be rid of me. It is not all gain to serve kings and princes ; they have their own pettiness, — the Church alone is perfect." It is impossible to render the play of feature and ex- pression on the face of the speaker, who took, intention- ally, ten minutes to deliver this tirade, slowly, sentence by sentence. The whole was so thoroughly natural and probable, especialty the allusion to Corentin, that the judge was shaken. " Will you confide in me the cause of your affection for Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre ? " he asked. " Can you not guess it? I am sixty years of age, Lucien de Bubempre. 301 monsieur, and — I beg you not to write this down — he is — Must I, absolutely ? " "It is for your interest, and above all for that of Lucien de Rubempre, to tell the truth." "Then — he is — Oh, heaven! — he is my son," he murmured. And he fainted. " Don't write that, Coquart," whispered Camusot. Coquart rose to get a bottle of pungent vinegar. 44 If it is Jacques Collin, he's a great comedian," thought Camusot. Coquart made Herrera inhale the vinegar, while the judge sat watching him with the mingled penetration of a lynx and a magistrate. 44 You must make him take off his wig," said Camu- sot, waiting till the man had recovered his senses. Collin heard the words and trembled inwardly, for he knew what a base expression his whole countenance would then assume. 4 ' If you have not the strength to take off your wig — yes, Coquart, take it off," said the judge to his clerk. Herrera advanced his head to the clerk with touch- ing resignation ; but no sooner was the head without its covering than it was horrible to behold, — the man's real character was seen. The sight plunged Camusot into great uncertainty. While awaiting the physician, he began to classify and arrange the papers and other articles seized in Lucien's apartments. After searching poor Esther's rooms in the rue Saint-Georges the police had continued their inquiry at the hpuse on the quai Malaquais- 302 Lucien de Rubempre. " You have in your hands the letters of the Comtesse de Serizy," said Carlos Herrera. •• I do not see why you should have seized Lucien de Rubempre's papers." " Lucien de Rubempre, suspected of being your ac- complice, is arrested," said the judge, anxious to see what effect that news would have on the accused. " You have done a great wrong, for Lucien is as innocent as I am myself," said Herrera, without exhib- iting the slightest emotion. " That we shall see ; at present we are establishing your identity," said the judge, surprised at the tran- quillity of the man. " If you are really Don Carlos Herrera, that will immediately alter the situation of Lucien Chardon." M Yes, she was indeed Madame Chardon — that is, Mademoiselle de Rubempre," murmured Carlos. " Ah ! it was one of the greatest faults of my life." He raised his eyes to heaven, and, by the way in which his lips moved, he seemed to be saying a fervent prayer. " But," added the judge, " if you are Jacques Collin, Lucien has, knowingly, been the companion of an es- caped convict, a sacrilegious impostor, and the crimes of which the law suspects him become more than probable." Carlos Herrera was iron as he listened to this speech, most ably delivered by the judge. For all answer he raised his hands with a gesture that was nobly sorrow- ful at the words kt knowingly " and " escaped convict." " Monsieur l'abbe," said the judge, with extreme politeness, " if you are indeed Don Carlos Herrera, you will pardon us for all we have been forced to inflict upon you in the interests of justice and truth." Lucien de Bubempre. 303 Jacques Collin guessed the trap that was here set for him, by the mere inflection of the judge's voice as he said the words " Monsieur l'abbe," and his countenance remained unmoved. Camusot expected a movement of joy, which would have been an indication of a criminal's ineffable delight at having deceived his judge ; on the contrary, the hero of the galleys was under the arms of a dissimulation that was more than Machiavellian. "I am a diplomatist, and I belong to an Order the vows of which are most austere," replied the abbe, with apostolic gentleness. -' I understand all, and I am used to suffering. I should be free already if your police had found the hiding-place of my private papers ; for I see the}* have seized none but those that are insignificant." This was a finishing blow for Camusot. Carlos Hen-era had already counterbalanced by his ease and simplicity all the suspicions that the sight of his bald head had renewed. " Where are those papers? " " I will show the place if you will kindly allow your delegate who takes me to be accompanied by a secre- tary of legation from the Spanish Embassy on whom 3 r ou can rely, who must receive them ; for the matter concerns my duty. These papers are diplomatic, and contain secrets compromising the late King Louis XVIII. Ah ! monsieur, you had better — However, you are the sole judge ; besides, my ambassador, to whom I shall appeal in all this, will appreciate the situation." At this "moment the physician and his assistant en- tered the office, after being announced by the usher. 304 Lucien de Rubempre. " Good morning, monsieur," said Camusot " I have called you to examine the condition of the accused per- son here present. He says he is poisoned, and de- clares he has been almost at the point of death since day before yesterday. See if there is any danger in undressing him in order to verify the existence of a mark on his shoulder." The doctor took the prisoner's hand, felt his pulse, asked to see his tongue, and looked him over verj- attentivety. The inspection lasted about ten minutes. M This person," said the physician, u has suffered very much ; but he now has great strength." "That factitious strength is due, monsieur, to the nervous excitement of my present strange position," said Jacques Collin, with all the dignity of a bishop. " That may be," said the doctor. At a sign from the judge, the prisoner was un- dressed ; with the exception of his trousers all else was taken off, even his shirt ; and every one present could admire the hairy torso of Cyclopean power. Here was the Farnese Hercules without his colossal exaggeration. " For what does Nature destine men of such a build as that?" said the doctor to Camusot. The usher now returned with that species of sabre made of ebony which has been from time immemorial among the insignia of their functions and is called a rod. With it he is struck several blows at the place where the executioner must have applied the fatal brand. Seventeen scars then appeared, capriciously scattered ; but, in spite of the care with which the back was examined the shape of no letter could be Lucien de Rubempre. 305 made out. The usher called attention, however, to the fact that the bar of the T was indicated by two holes exactly as far apart as the length of the bar required, and that another hole was at the exact place for the bottom of the same letter. " But all that is very vague," said Camusot, noticing the doubt expressed on the doctor's face. Carlos Herrera now requested that the same thing should be done to the other shoulder and to the back. Fifteen or more other scars reappeared, which the doc- tor made a note of at the request of the Spaniard, and he declared that the whole back had been so riddled with wounds that the branding could not now be dis- covered were it there. A messenger from the Prefecture of police here entered the room and gave a note to Monsieur Camu- sot, requesting an answer. After reading it, the judge crossed over to Coquart and whispered something in his ear, but so low that no other ear could hear it. Only, from a single glance in his direction, Jacques Collin felt certain that the message came from the police. " Corentin is on ray heels, I know that," thought he. M I wish I could see Asia again." After signing a paper written by Coquart, the judge put it in an envelope and gave it to the messenger. Then he motioned to the doctor and his assistant, who re-dressed the prisoner, and retired, together with the usher. Camusot sat down to a desk and played with a pen. "You have an aunt," he said, abruptly addressing the accused. 20 306 Lucien de Bubempre. "An aunt?" echoed Carlos Herrera in surprise. "Monsieur, I have no relations; I am the unrecog- nized son of the late Duke of Ossuna." To himself he said, " They burn ! " — in allusion to the game of hide and seek, an infantile image of the terrible struggle between justice and criminals. "Pooh!" said Camusot. "Come, you have an aunt, — Mademoiselle Jacqueline Collin ; whom you placed as cook with Mademoiselle Esther under the fantastic name of Asia." Herrera gave a careless shrug to his shoulders wholly in keeping with the look of curiosity he showed on hear- ing this statement of the judge, who was watching him with sharp attention. "Take care," said Camusot. "Listen to me carefully." " I am listening, monsieur." " Your aunt is a procuress in the Temple ; her busi- ness is carried on by a Demoiselle Paccard, sister of a convict, but a very worthy woman, called La Romette. The police are on your aunt's traces, and in a few hours we shall have positive proofs. The woman is very de- voted to you — " " Go on, monsieur," said Herrera, composedly, when Camusot paused as if for a reply ; " I am listening to you." " Your aunt, who is about five years older than you, was formerly the mistress of Marat, of odious memory. It was from that blood}' source that the nucleus of her present fortune was derived. According to informa- tion which I possess, she is a very clever receiver of stolen goods ; for as yet no proofs have been obtained Lucien de Bubempre. 307 against her. After Marat's death she belonged, as appears from reports which I hold in my hand, to a chemist condemned to death, in the year VIII., for coining false money. She was a witness on his trial. It was through this intimacy that she obtained her knowledge of poisons. She was a procuress from the year IX. to 1806. From 1807 to 1809 she was in prison for the crime of leading minors into debaucherj-. You were then being sought for the crime of forgery. You had left the banking-house in which your aunt had placed you as clerk, thanks to the education you had received and to your aunt's influence with personages to whose depravity she furnished victims. All this does not comport with the grandeurs of the Dukes of Ossuna. Do you persist in your denials? " Carlos Herrera listened to Monsieur Camusot, think- ing the while of his happy childhood in the school of the Oratorians ; a meditation which gave him a truly astonished air at the judge's words. In spite of Camu- sot's clever probing, he was unable to bring a single quiver to that placid countenance. " If the explanation that I gave you in the begin- ning has been correctly written down," said Herrera, " you should read it over. I have no change to make in it. I did not actually enter the courtesan's house ; how could I know her cook ? I am a total stranger to the persons of whom you speak." " We shall proceed, in spite of your denials, to con- front you with persons in such a way as to diminish your assurance." " A man who has once been shot can endure any- thing," replied Herrera, gently. 308 Lucien de Eubempre. Camusot returned to bis study of the papers while awaiting the arrival of the detective officer whose com- ing had been announced to him. It was now half-past eleven ; the examination had begun at ten. Presenth r the usher entered and announced to the judge in a low voice that Bibi-Lupin had arrived. " Let him come in," replied Monsieur Camusot. As he entered, Bibi-Lupin — from whom the judge expected the exclamation, "That is he!" — stopped short in surprise ; he did not recognize the face of his "customer" in that pock-marked visage. This hesitation struck the judge forcibly. " It is certainly his figure, his corpulence," said the detective, — " Ah ! yes, that 's you, Jacques Collin ! " he exclaimed, examining the e} T es, the cut of the brow, and the ears. " There are some things that can't be disguised. That is certainly he, Monsieur Camusot. Jacques has a scar from the cut of a knife on his left arm ; make him take off his coat and you will see it." Again the prisoner's coat was taken off; Bibi-Lupin rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and showed the mark. "It was a shot," said Carlos Herrera ; "here are several other scars." " Ha ! that 's his voice ! " cried Bibi-Lupin. " Your certainty," said the judge, " is merely an opinion ; it is not proof." "I know that," said Bibi-Lupin, humbly. "But I will get you witnesses. I have brought with me now one of the boarders in the Maison Vauquer, where I formerly arrested him," he added, looking fixedly at the prisoner. Lucien de Mubempre. 309 The placid face never changed. "Let that person come in," said Monsieur Camusot, whose annoyance was perceptible in spite of his apparent indifference. This fact was perceived by Jacques Collin, who counted little on the sympathy of an examining judge ; and he dropped into a sort of apathy, produced by the intense meditation to which he gave himself up in searching for the cause of it. The usher introduced Madame Poiret, the unexpected sight of whom caused the accused to quiver slightly ; but this trepidation passed unnoticed by the judge, whose attention was on the witness. "What is 3'our name?" asked the judge beginning the regular series of formalities. Madame Poiret, a pale old woman as wrinkled as a sweetbread, dressed in a dark-blue silk gown, stated that her name was Christine-Michelle Michonneau, wife of the Sieur Poiret, aged fifty-one years, born in Paris, and now living rue de Poules, corner of the rue des Postes, where she kept furnished lodgings. " You lived, madame," said the judge, M in 1818 and 1819 in a pension bourgeoises kept by a Madame Vauquer, did you not?" " Yes, monsieur ; that is where I made the acquaint- ance of Monsieur Poiret, a retired government-clerk, who became my husband, and whom I have nursed in his bed, poor man, for the last year ; for he 's very ill. Therefore I cannot leave my house for any length of time." "Was there a certain Vautrin in that boarding- house?" began the judge. 310 Lucien de Hubempre. "Oh! monsieur, that's a long history ; he was a dreadful galley-slave." 44 You assisted in arresting him?" " That is false, monsieur." " Take care ; you are before the law/' said the judge, sternly. Madame Poiret kept silence. " Consult your memorj r ," resumed the judge. "Can you recollect the man? Should you recognize him if 3'ou saw him?" " I think so." "Is that the man?" asked the judge. Madame Poiret put on her glasses and looked at the Abbe Carlos Herrera. "That's his build, his figure, but — no — yes — Monsieur," she said, " if I could see his breast bare, I should recognize it in a minute." The judge and his clerk could not help laughing, in defiance of the solemnity of their functions. Jacques Collin shared their hilarity, but with more restraint. He had not replaced the coat taken off by Bibi-Lupin, and, at a sign from the judge, he readily opened his shirt. "That's his hairy breast! but }'Ou 've turned gray, Monsieur Vautrin," cried Madame Poiret. " What do you answer to that? " asked the judge. " That she is crazy," replied Jacques Collin. "Ah heavens! if I had a doubt — for it isn't the same face — that voice would be enough, that 's the voice that threatened me ! Yes, and that 's his look, too !" " The agent of the detective police and this woman," said the judge, addressing Jacques Collin, " have had no opportunity to consult each other, and yet they Lucien de Bubempre. 311 agree on the same resemblances. How do you explain that?" "Justice has often committed even greater errors than that of relying on the testimon\- of a woman who recognizes a man by the hair of his breast, and on the mere suspicions of a detective," replied Jacques Collin. u They find in me resemblances of voice, look, and figure to a great criminal, but that is very vague. As for the reminiscence which proves relations between madame and my double, at which she seems not to blush, you have laughed at them yourself. Will }T>u, mon- sieur, in the interests of truth, which I desire to estab- lish for m}' own sake far more than 3011 can wish it for justice, will you kindly ask Madame — Foi — " " Poiret." "Poret. Excuse me, I am Spanish — whether she remembers the other persons who lived in that — what did 3'ou call the house ? " "Pension bourgeoises said Madame Poiret. " 1 don't know what that is," said Jacques Collin. M A house where people dine and breakfast by subscrip- tion," replied the former Mademoiselle Michonneau. "You are right," cried Camusot, who nodded his head in approval of Jacques Collin, so much was he struck \)\ the apparent good faith with which the accused offered him the means of reaching a result. Madame, try, if you please, to remember the names of the persons who lived in the pension at the time of Jacques Collin's arrest." " There was a Monsieur de Kastignac, and Horace Bianchon, and Pere Goriot, and Mademoiselle Taille- fer — " ' 312 Lucien de RubemprL " Very good," said the judge, never ceasing to watch Jacques Collin, whose face was impassible ; " that Pere Goriot — " 44 He is dead," said Madame Poiret. 44 Monsieur," said Jacques Collin, " 1 have several times met in Lucien's rooms a Monsieur de Rastignac, intimate, I think, with Madame de Nucingen ; if it is he whom she means he never mistook me for the criminal with whom some one is now attempting to confound me." 44 Monsieur de Rastignac and Doctor Bianchon," said the judge, 44 both occupy such social position that their testimon}', if favorable to you, will suffice to make me release you. Coquart, write out the summons for their attendance here." In a few moments the formalities of Madame Poiret's examination were over and Coquart read to her the written report of her testimony, which she signed ; but the accused refused to add his signature, on account of his ignorance of the forms of French law. " That 's enough for to-day," said Monsieur Camusot. 44 You must be in want of food ; I will now send you back to the Conciergerie." 44 Alas ! I suffer too much to eat," said Jacques Collin. Camusot was anxious that Herrera's return should coincide with the hour when the other prisoners took their exercise in the preau ; but he wanted an an- swer from the director of the Conciergerie to the order he had given him in the morning. He therefore rang the bell for his usher. When the man came he said that the portress of a house on the quai Malaquais Lucien de Rubempre. 313 was waiting in the antechamber to see the judge and give him a paper of importance relating to Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre. This incident seemed so important that Camusot dropped his immediate intention and said, hastily : — " Let her come in, at once." 314 Lucien de Rubempre. XXII. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD. " Pardon me, excuse me, monsieur," said the por- tress, bowing to the judge arid to the abbe in turn, "but we have been so upset, my husband and I, and troubled by the officers of the law, that each time they have come to the house we have forgotten to give them a letter that came b} T post for Monsieur Lucien ; it was put away in our drawer ; we had to pay ten sous for it, though it comes from Paris, — but it is very heavy. Would you pay the postage? For God knows when Monsieur Lucien may get back." "Was this letter given to you by the postman?" asked Camusot, after attentively examining the outside of the letter. " Yes, monsieur." " Coquart, draw up an affidavit of this declara- tion. Give your name, my good woman, and your occupation." Camusot made the portress swear to her declaration, and then he himself dictated the report. During the progress of these formalities, he examined the post-mark, which bore the hour of receipt and dis- tribution and also the date of the day of delivery. This letter, delivered at Lucien's home the morning after Esther's death, must have been written and posted on the day of that catastrophe. Lucien de Bubempre. 315 We may now judge of the stupefaction of Monsieur Caniusot on reading this letter, written and signed by a woman who was supposed to be the victim of a crime. Monday, May 13, 1830. My last day, — 10 o'clock in the morning. My Lucien, — I have not an hour to live. At eleven o'clock I shall be dead, and I shall die without pain. I have paid fifty thousand francs for a pretty little black cur- rant containing a poison which kills like lightning. And so, my treasure, you can say to yourself : " My little Esther did not suffer." Yes, I shall only have suffered in writing to you these lines. The monster who bought me so dearly, knowing that the day on which I should know myself to be his would have no morrow, has left me. For the first and last time I have been able to contrast my former life with the life of love, to compare the tenderness which expands into infinity with the horror of a debt which made me long for annihilation, so that no spot of me might be left for kisses. Perhaps this disgust was needful to make me find death sweet. I have taken a bath ; I wish the confessor of the convent where I was baptized were here to confess me, and wash my soul, — but no, enough of prostitution ; it would profane the sacra- ment and besides, I think I am washed in the water of sin- cere repentance. God will do with me as he will. But let us be done with tears ; 1 want to be your Esther to you up to my last moment, and not fret you about my death, or the future, or the good God, who could n't be good if he tortured me in another world when I have suffered such bitter sorrow in this. I have your dear portrait painted by Madame Mirbel be- fore me. That ivory leaf consoles me for your absence ; I look at it with delirium as I write you my last thoughts, as 316 Lucien de EubemprS. I make you feel the last beatings of my heart. I shall put the portrait under cover of this letter ; for I will not leave it to be stolen or sold. The mere thought that what has been my joy could be shown in the window of a shop with the ladies and officers of the Empire and Chinese images gives me a cold shudder. My Lucien, destroy it, give it to no other woman — unless it could win you back the heart of that lath in petticoats, that Clotilde, who will give you nightmares with her sharp bones — Yes, I consent that she should have it, and then I '11 still be doing you some good, as in my lifetime. Ah ! to give you pleasure — or were it only to make you laugh — I 'd have stood be- fore a fire with an apple in my mouth to bake it for you ! My death will be useful to you, too. Living I should have troubled your home. Ah ! that Clotilde, I can't understand her ! Able to be your wife, to bear your name, never to leave you night or day, to be your own, and yet make difficul- ties ! One must be high-bred and faubourg Saint-Germain for that ! and not have an ounce of flesh on her bones. Poor Lucien ! dear, balked ambitious one, I think of your future. Ah, me ! you '11 regret, more than once, your poor faithful little dog, that good girl who stole for you, who would have let them drag her into a police-court could that have made you happy ; whose sole occupation was to think of your pleasures and plan them for you ; who had love for you in her hair, her feet, her ears; your little ballerina, whose looks meant blessings ; who for six years thought only of you ; who was so utterly yours that I have been but the emanation of my Lucien's soul as light is that of the sun. But alas, for want of money and virtue I could not be your wife. I have always thought of your future in giving you all that I possessed : I do now. Come, as soon as you re- ceive this letter, and take what is placed for you under my pillow ; for I distrust the servants of the house. Ah I I want you to see me beautiful in death ; I will lie down, stretched on my bed ; I will pose for you, ah ! Then Zucien de Bubempre. 317 I shall press the little currant against the roof of my mouth, and there '11 be no disfigurement, no convulsions, no ridicu- lous posture. I know that Madame de Serizy has quarrelled with you on my account ; but don't you see, my sweet, that when she knows I 'm dead she '11 forgive you; you must cultivate her, and she '11 marry you well if those Grandlieus persist in their refusal. My nini, I don't want you to give great sighs, alas ! and alas ! when you hear of my death. In the first place, I ought to tell you that this hour of eleven o'clock Monday morning, May 13, is but the ending of a long malady which began that day on the terrace at Saint-Germain, when you flung me back into my old career. There are maladies of the soul as there are of the body. Only, the soul cannot go on suf- fering stupidly like the body ; the body never sustains the soul as the soul the body, — no, the soul has a means of cure in the thought that makes a grisette have recourse to charcoal. Dear, you gave me all of life last night when you told me that if the Grandlieus still refused you, you would marry me. 'T would have been for both a great misfor- tune ; I should have died far more — if one can say so. I mean there are deaths that are more — or less — bitter. Never, never would the world have accepted us. It is now some months that I have reflected deeply on many things. See ! a poor girl is in the mud as 1 was before I went into the convent ; men think her beautiful, they make her serve their pleasures, excusing themselves from consid- ering her ; they fetch her in a carriage, but they send her away on foot ; if they do not spit in her face it is only because her beauty saves her from that outrage, but morally they do worse. Well, let that girl inherit five or six millions, and princes will ask her hand ; she is saluted respectfully where- ever she passes in her carriage ; she may choose her husband from the noblest blood of France and of Navarre. This world of social life, which would ever have cried " Raca ! " to us, — 318 Lucien de Eubempre. to us, beautiful, united, and loving, — bowed low to Madame de Stael, in spite of her ways of living, because she had a fortune. Yes, this world, that bends the knee to money and to fame, grants nothing to happiness or virtue — for I was virtuous, I would have done good. Oh ! how many tears would I have wiped away! — as many as I have shed. Yes, I would have lived only for you and for charity. These reflections have made death welcome to me. And so, don't lament for me, my own darling ; say to yourself, often, " There were two kind girls, two lovable creatures, who both died for me, without ever blaming me, for they adored me." Raise a memorial in your heart to Coralie, and to Esther, and go your way! be happy ! Do you remem- ber the day when you showed me an old shrivelled creat- ure, in a melon-green hood and a brown pelisse covered with black grease-spots, the mistress of a poet before the Revolu- tion, trying to get warm in the sun, on a bench in the Tuileries, and fretting about a horrible pug, — she who once had servants and carriages and houses? And I said to you — don't you remember ? — " Better die at thirty." Well, that day, afterwards, you found me thoughtful, and you talked follies to cheer me up, but, between two kisses, I said again, " Pretty women leave the play before it ends." And so I don't want to see the last act, that 's all. " How she runs on ! " you '11 say ; but this is my last chatter. I write as I used to talk to you, as I want to talk still, gayly, for you liked it. Grisettes who bemoan themselves were always a horror to me. You know I did die well once before, — that night of the masked ball when they let you know I had been a prostitute. Oh ! no, no, my nini, don't give away this portrait ; if you knew with what floods of love I have plunged into those eyes — for I stopped writing to look at them with rapture — you 'd think, as you gather up the love I have left upon the ivory, that the soul of your little Esther is there. No, Lucien, do not part with it. Lucien de Bubempre. 319 A dead woman asking alms ! — how comical ! Come, come! let us be peaceful in our grave. My death would seem heroic to fools if they knew that to-day Nucingen offered me millions if I would love him as I love you. Ah ! he '11 be finely robbed when he finds I have kept my word and have died of him. I did my best to still breathe the air that you breathe. I said to that robber of women and orphans, " Do you wish me to love you as you say? I will even promise never to speak to Lucien again." "What shall I do?" he asked. "Give me two millions for him." No ! if you could only have seen his face ! Ah ! I could have laughed, if it had n't been so tragic for me. " Save yourself the trouble of a refusal," I said. " I see now that two millions are more to you than I am ; it is good for a woman to know what she is worth ; " and I turned my back upon him. He '11 know in a few hours that I was not joking. Who will part your hair for you as I did ? Bah ! I don't want to think of anything more in life. I have but five minutes left and I go to God. I want to speak to him of you, and ask for your happiness at the price of my death and my punishment in the other world, — it troubles me that I must go to hell. I would like to be among the angels, where I could think of you. Adieu, my nini, adieu! I bless you for all my misery. To the grave, I am Your Esther. Eleven o'clock is striking ; I have said my last prayer, and I am going now to lie down. Once more, adieu ! I would that the warmth of my hand could leave my soul upon this paper where I place my last kiss. Once more I want to call you my little minet, though you have caused the death of your Esther. 320 Lucien de BubemprS. A spasm of jealous}' was in the heart of the judge as he ended the reading of the only letter written by a suicide in which he had found such gayety, albeit a feverish gayety and the last effort of a blinded love. " AVhat is there in him to be loved thus?" he thought, repeating what is said by all men who have not the gift of pleasing women. "If you are able to prove not only that 3-011 are not Jacques Collin, an escaped convict, but that you are really Don Carlos Herrera, canon of Toledo, and envoy of his Majesty Ferdinand VII.," said the judge to Jacques Collin, "you will be set at liberty at once; for the impartiality which my office demands obliges me to tell }'ou that I have this moment received a letter from Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck, in which she avows her intention of committing suicide, and expresses such suspicion of her servants as would seem to show that they are guilty of the robber}" of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs which were under her pillow." While speaking, Monsieur Camusot was comparing the writing of the letter with that of the will, and to his mind it was evident that the letter had been written by the same person who wrote the will. " Monsieur, you have been too hasty in suspecting a murder ; may 30U not also be mistaken in suspecting a theft." " Ha!" said Camusot, casting the look of a judge on the prisoner. " Do not think that I compromise myself when I say that the sum missing can probably be found," replied Jacques Collin, letting the judge see that he understood his suspicion. " This poor girl was beloved Lucien de Rubempre. 321 by her servants. If I were free, I should make it my business to search for property which now belongs to the being I love best in the world, — to Lucien. Will you have the kindness to let me read the letter? It will not take long ; it is a precious proof of the inno- cence of m}' dear child ; therefore 3-011 cannot fear that I should injure it — or speak of it, for I am in soli- tary confinement." " Solitary confinement ! " cried the judge ; " of course you will not remain there. I beg you to establish your identity at once. Have recourse to your ambassador, if you like." He held out the letter to Jacques Collin. Camusot was delighted to get rid of his perplexities, — to sat- isfy the attorne3'-general, and Mesdames de Maufri- gneuse and Serizy. Nevertheless, he examined coldly and critically the face of his prisoner while the latter read Esther's letter, and, in spite of the sincerit3 r of the feelings that were now depicted on it, he said to himself: — " That certainly is the physiognomy of a convict." "This is love!" said Jacques Collin, returning the letter and letting Camusot see his face, which was bathed in tears. " If you knew him ! " he said. " A soul so 3 r oung, so fresh, a beaut3 T so magnificent, a child, a poet ! One feels an irresistible need of sacrificing one's self to him, of satisfying even his slightest wishes. This dear Lucien is so winning when he chooses to be caressing that — " " Well,"- said the magistrate, making one more effort to get at the truth," 3-ou can hardly be Jacques Collin." 21 322 Lucien de Bubempre. " No, monsieur, I am not." And Jacques Collin made himself more than ever Don Carlos Herrera. In his desire to finish his work, he approached the judge, drew him aside to the recess of the window, and took the manners of a prince of the Church making a confidence. " I love that boy so much, monsieur, that if I had to remain the criminal for whom you take me in order to avoid disaster to that idol of my heart, I would accuse myself," he said, in a low voice. "I would imitate that poor girl who killed herself for his benefit. Mon- sieur, I entreat you to grant me a favor, — set Lucien at liberty at once." "My duty is against it," said Camusot, kindly; "but it is with justice as with heaven, a way might be found — can you give me an}- good reason? Speak frankly ; 3-our words will not be taken down." " Well, then," replied Jacques Collin, deceived by the judge's apparent kindliness, " I know what that poor boy must suffer at this moment; he is capable of trying to kill himself at the mere thought that he is in prison — " "Oh, as for that!" said the judge, shrugging his shoulders. " And you know not whom you oblige in doing me this service," added Jacques Collin, who wanted to touch other cords. " You render a service to an Order more powerful than the Comtesse de Serizy, or the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who will not forgive the fact that their letters have been in your office," — and he pointed to two perfumed packages. " My Order has a memory." Lucien de Bubempre. 323 "Monsieur," said Camusot, u enough ! Find other reasons. I have a duty toward accused persons, as I have toward the prosecution of crime." " Then believe me, I know Lucien. His is the soul of a woman, — a poet, Southern born, without steadfast- ness, without will," said Jacques Collin, thinking that the judge was wholly won. M You are now certain of the innocence of this young man ; do not harass him bj' questions. Give him this letter ; tell him he is Esther's heir, and set him at liberty. If you do other- wise you will regret it ; whereas, if 30U will release him, I will myself explain to you (and keep me if you will in solitary confinement) to-morrow, to-night, all that seems mysterious in this affair, and the reasons of the rancorous persecution of which I am the object. In doing this I shall risk my life, which they have sought to take for five years past; but Lucien free, rich, and married to Clotilde de Grandlieu, my task in this world is accomplished. I do not care to save my skin ; my persecutor is a spy of your late king." "Ah! Corentin!" " Is that his name? thank you. Well, monsieur, will 3 7 ou promise to do what I have asked of you ? " " A judge neither can nor ought to promise anything. Coquart, tell the usher and the gendarmes to take the accused back to the Conciergerie. I will give orders this evening to place you in the Pistole," he added, kindly, making a slight inclination of his head to the prisoner. Struck by the request made b} T Jacques Collin, re- membering the urgency with which he had asked to be examined first, — giving his illness as a reason, — all 324 Lucien de Rubempre. the judge's distrust came back to him. As he again listened to his vague suspicions, he saw the pretended sick man leaving the room, and walking like a Hercu- les, with none of the mimicry of illness with which he entered it. 44 Monsieur! " he called out. Jacques Collin turned round. 44 In spite of your refusal to sign the record of your examination, my clerk will read to you." The prisoner was plainly in perfect health ; the mo- tion with which he went to the clerk's table and sat down by him was a last flash of light to the judge. 44 You have been quickly cured,'* he said. 44 Caught!" thought Jacques Collin; then he said aloud, " Joj*, monsieur, is the ou\y panacea that exists. That letter, the proof of an innocence I never doubted — ah, that is indeed a remedy ! " The judge watched the accused with pensive eyes as the usher and the gendarmes surrounded him ; then he made the motion of a man who wakes up, and, throw- ing Pother's letter upon his clerk's desk, he said : — 44 Coquart, copy that ! " If it is in the nature of every man to distrust the thing he is entreated to do when that thing is against his interests and against his duty, and even when it is wholly indifferent to him, this feeling is pre-eminently the law of an examining judge. The more the accused, whose own status was not yet clear, let the judge see clouds on the horizon in case Lucien was examined, the more that examination seemed necessary to Camu- sot. Even though this formality was not indispensable according to the Code and legal custom, it seemed re- Lucien de Bubempre. 325 quired b} 7 the question of the abbe's identity. In all employments there is the conseience of our work. In default of curiosity, Camusot would have questioned Lucien, as he had questioned Jacques Collin, displaj'- ing a craftiness which an honorable judge thinks right. But now the duty to be done, even his own advancement, all became secondary, in Camusot's mind, to the desire to know the truth, to obtain it, if only to be silent about it. He stood drumming on the window panes, com- pletely abandoned to the flood of his conjectures ; for thought is like a river that flows through many lands. Lovers of truth, magistrates, have much in common with jealous women ; they give themselves up to count- less suppositions ; they dig into them with the dagger of suspicion, as the sacrificing high-priest disembowels the victims of the altar ; moreover, they stop, not at truth, but at probability, and they end by a perception of the truth. A woman questions a man she loves very much as a judge interrogates a criminal. With such intentions, a flash of the eye, a word, an intonation of the voice, a hesitation, suffices to indicate the fact, the betrayal, the hidden crime. " The manner in which he described his devotion to his son (if it is his son) makes me believe that he went to the house of that girl to secure the money ; and, not knowing of the will that was under her pillow, he prob- ably 7 took, for his son, the seven hundred and fifty- thousand francs, provisionally. That must be the rea- son why 7 he says he can and will recover that money'. Monsieur "de Rubempre owes it to himself, as well as to justice, to clear up the civil status of his father. 326 Zucien de RubemprL And to promise me the protection of his Order — his Order ! — if I would refrain from examining the young man." He dwelt on that thought. As we have already seen, an examining judge carries on the examination as he pleases. He is free to use craft, or to la} T it aside. The inquiry may be nothing, or it maj' be all. In that lies favor. Camusot rang the bell. His usher had returned ; he ordered him to fetch Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre, and to be careful that the accused did not communicate with an} 7 one, no matter who, on the way. It was now two o'clock in the afternoon. " There is some secret there," said the judge to him- self, "and it must be a secret of importance. The reasoning of that amphibious being, who is neither priest, nor layman, nor convict, nor Spaniard, and who wants to prevent some dreadful thing from coming out of his protege's mouth is this : ' The poet is weak ; he is effeminate ; he is not like me, who am a Hercules in diplomac}* ; if 30U examine him you can snatch our secret from him easily.' Well, now we will get the truth out of innocence." And he sat there tapping the edge of his table with an ivory paper-knife, while his clerk went on copying Esther's letter. How many capricious things occur in the exercise of our faculties ! Camusot had supposed all possible crimes, but he passed unnoticed the only one which Jacques Collin had really committed. — namely, the forged will in favor of Lucien. Let those whose envy fastens on the position of these magistrates reflect upon their lives passed in perpetual suspicion, Zucien de Eubempre. 327 in craft forced upon their minds, — for civil affairs are not less tortuous than criminal inquiries, — and they will perhaps come to the conclusion that the priest and the magistrate bear an equally heavy harness, brist- ling with spikes within it. All professions have their hair-shirts and their thumbscrews. 328 Lucien de EubemprS. XXIII. THE JUDGE APPLIES THE TORTURE. A few minutes after two o'clock Monsieur Camusot saw Lucien de Rubempre brought to his office — pale, limp, undone, his eyes red and swollen, in a state of prostration, which enabled him to compare nature with art, — the really fainting man with the fainting actor. The passage from the Conciergerie to the judge's room, made between two gendarmes preceded bj T an usher, had brought despair to its acme in Lucien. It is in the nature of a poet to prefer death to punishment. Be- holding this nature utterly devoid of mental courage, — a courage so powerfully manifested in the other pris- oner, — Monsieur Camusot felt scorn for his easy vic- tory, and a contempt which enabled him to deliver decisive blows, while it left his mind in that terri- ble freedom which characterizes the famous shot at a pigeon-match. " Recover yourself, Monsieur de Rubempre ; you are in presence of a magistrate eager to repair the wrong involuntarily done by arresting you on a suspicion which has proved unfounded. I believe you innocent, and you are about to be set at liberty. Here is the proof of your innocence, — a letter held by your por- tress in consequence of 3'our absence, which she has now brought to me. In the trouble caused by the news of your arrest at Fontainebleau, and the visits of the Lucien de Bubempre. 329 police at your house, she forgot the letter, which is from the Demoiselle Esther Gobseck. Read it." Lucien took the letter, read it, and burst into tears. He sobbed, without being able to articulate a word. At the end of some fifteen minutes, during which time Lucien had great difficulty in maintaining an} T strength at all, the clerk presented to him a copy of the letter, and requested him to sign it as w i certified copy of the original, to be delivered up on demand so long as the examinations in the case should continue," — offering to read it over and collate it with the original for him ; but Lucien was, naturally enough, content to trust Coquart's exactness. " Monsieur," said the judge, in a very kindly man- ner, " it is, nevertheless, difficult to set you at liberty without fulfilling certain formalities, and putting a few questions to you. It is almost as a witness that I shall now require you to answer. To a man like you, I think it useless to remark that the oath to tell the truth is not only an appeal to your conscience, but it is also a necessity of your position, which has been for a short time ambiguous. The truth, no matter what it is, can- not injure you ; but falsehood would send you to the court of assizes, and will oblige me now to send you back to the Conciergerie, whereas, if you answer frankly, j t ou will sleep at home to-night, and you shall be publicly vindicated in the public journals by the fol- lowing notice : ' Monsieur de Rubempre, arrested yes- terday at Fontainebleau, was immediately released after a very short examination.' " This speech produced a lively impression on Lucien. Seeing this, the judge continued : — 330 Lucien de Eubempre. " 1 repeat, you have been suspected of complicity in the murder, by poison, of the Demoiselle Esther. There is, however, proof of her suicide, and that ends the question of murder. But a sum of money has been taken from the house, — seven hundred and fifty thou- sand francs, — which now forms part of your inheri- tance. Here, unfortunately, there is a crime. The crime precedes the discovery of the will. Now the law has reason to think that a person who loves you as much as the Demoiselle Esther loved you has been guilty of this crime, for your sake. No, do not inter- rupt me," said the judge, imposing silence on Lucien, who wished to speak, by a motion of his hand. " I am not questioning you yet. I wish to make you under- stand how much your honor is concerned in this mat- ter. Abandon the false, the miserable point of honor which binds accomplices together, and tell the whole truth." Our readers must already have observed the extreme disproportion of weapons existing between accused per- sons and examining judges. It is true that denial, cleverly managed, has on its side completeness of form, and is sufficient for a criminal's defence ; but, for all that, it is a sort of panoply which becomes a crushing weight when some turn in the examination discloses a rent in it. As soon as denial is insufficient against evident facts, the accused person is absolutely at the mercy of the judge. Suppose, now, that a semi-criminal, such as Lucien, saved from the first wreck of his virtue, might amend his ways, and become of use to his coun- try ; he would perish among these nets and wiles of examination. The judge draws up a brief and dry re- Lucien de Eubempre. 331 port (proces-verbal), — a faithful record of the questions and answers ; but of his insidious paternal persua- sions, his captious remonstrances, like those we have given, nothing remains. The judges of the upper courts and the juries see and know nothing of the means by which these replies have been obtained. Therefore, according to some opinions, it would be better if the examination were conducted, as in Eng- land, before the jury. France did practise that system for a short time. Under the Code Brumaire, of the year VI., there was what was called a jury of inquiry [jury $ accusation], to distinguish it from the judge's juiy [jury du judgment]. As to the final trial of a case, if it passed the jury of inquiry, it went to the Royal courts without the concurrence of the other juiy- " Now," said Camusot, after a pause, " what is your name ? Monsieur Coquart, attention ! " he said to the clerk. " Lucien Chardon de Rubempre." " Where born?" " Angouleme." And Lucien gave the day, month, and year. " You had no property from your father?" " None." " You did, nevertheless, during your first residence in Paris, live at considerable expense, compared with your small means?" " Yes, monsieur; but I had at that time a devoted friend, in Mademoiselle Coralie, whom I had the mis- fortune to lose. It was grief, caused by her death, which took me back to my former home." 332 Lucien de RubemprS. 44 Good, monsieur," said Camusot ; "I commend your frankness ; it will be appreciated." Lucien was entering, as we see, upon the path of gen- eral confession. "You incurred far greater expenses after your re- turn from Angouleme to Paris," resumed Camusot. 44 You have lived like a man who spends from fifty to sixty thousand francs a year." 44 Yes, monsieur." 44 Who supplied you with that money?" 44 My protector, the Abbe Carlos Herrera." 44 Where did you first know him?" 44 1 met him on the high-road, at a moment when I was about to rid myself of life by suicide." 44 You had never heard your family mention him, or your mother?" 44 Never." 4 4 Can you remember the month and year when you first became connected with Mademoiselle Esther?" 44 Toward the end of 1823, at a little theatre on the boulevard." 44 At first she cost you money? " 44 Yes, monsieur." 44 Lately, in the hope of marrying Mademoiselle de Grandlieu, you bought the remains of the chateau de Rubempre, to which you have added lands worth about a million. You told the Grandlieu family that your sister and brother-in-law had lately inherited a large fortune and that you owed the sum for the payment of your purchase to their liberality. Did you say that, monsieur, to the Grandlieu family?" 44 Yes, monsieur." Lucien de Eubempre. 333 " You are ignorant of the reasons why jour marriage was broken off ? " 4 'Entirely." 44 Well, the Grandlieu family sent one of the most trusty lawyers in Paris to 3 T our brother-in-law, in order to obtain information. This law} T er learned at Angou- leme, from the statements of your sister and your brother-in-law, not only that the\ r had lent you noth- ing, but that their inheritance was chiefly in land, and that the personal property amounted to little more than two hundred thousand francs. You cannot think it strange that a family like that of Grandlieu should draw back when they find your fortune such that j'ou dare not explain its origin. You see, monsieur, the position in which a lie has placed }*ou." Lucien was struck dumb 03- this revelation ; and the little strength of mind he still retained abandoned him. " The police and the legal authorities know all thej r wish to know, remember that," said Camusot. "Now," he resumed, after a pause, thinking of the abbe's claim to be Lucien's father, "do you know who this so- called Carlos Herrera is ? " " Yes, monsieur ; but I knew it too late." 14 Too late? how do 30U mean? Explain yourself." 4 ' He is not a priest, he is not a Spaniard, he is — 44 An escaped convict?" said the judge, quickly. 44 Yes," replied Lucien. 44 But when the fatal se- cret was revealed to me I was already under obligations to him . I thought I had allied m3 f self with a respect- able ecclesiastic — " 44 Jacques Collin — " said the judge, beginning a sentence. 334 Lucien de Bubempre. "Jacques Collin," said Lucien, interrupting him, 44 yes, that is his name." 4 'Good. Jacques Collin," resumed Camusot, "has just been recognized here by two persons ; but he still denies his identity — in your interests, I think. I asked you if }X>u knew who he was for another purpose, to expose what may prove to be another imposture of Jacques Collin." Instantly Lucien felt as if hot irons were plunged into him. 44 Are 3'ou ignorant," continued the judge, " that he pretends to be your father, to explain the extraordinary relation in which you stand to him ? " 44 He ! my father ! Oh, monsieur, did he say that?" " Have you suspected where the sums of money which he gave you came from ? It is to be believed from the letter which you hold in your hand that Mademoiselle Esther, that poor girl, did, later, render you the same services as Mademoiselle Coralie ; but you were, as you have just said, living in Paris and living luxuriously for some years before you received anything from her. Can you tell me where the money came from ? " " Ah ! monsieur, it is you who must tell me," cried Lucien, " where convicts get their money — Jacques Collin my father ! Oh ! my poor mother ! " And he burst into tears. 44 Clerk, read that part of the examination in which the pretended Carlos Herrera declares himself the father of Lucien de Rubempre." The poet listened to the reading in silence and with a countenance it was painful to witness. ' ' I am lost ! n he cried. Lucien de Rubempre. 335 " No man is lost in the path of truth and honor," said the judge. M But you will send Jacques Collin to the assizes," said Lucien. " Undoubtedly," replied Camusot, who wished to make Lucien say more. " Continue ; say what you think." But, in spite of the efforts and remonstrances of the judge, Lucien no longer answered. Reflection had come, — too late, as it does in all men who are slaves to feeling. There lies the difference between the poet and the man of action : one delivers himself over to feel- ing to reproduce his living images, he judges nothing until later ; whereas the other judges and feels together. Lucien sat pale and dumb ; he saw himself at the bot- tom of the precipice down which the judge had rolled him, while he, the poet, had let himself be trapped by apparent kindness. He had betrayed, not his bene- factor but his accomplice, — him, who had defended their position with the courage of a lion and an ability without a flaw. Just there, where Jacques Collin had saved Lucien by his audacit}', Lucien, the man of mind, had lost all by his want of intelligence and his lack of reflection. The infamous lie, which had so shocked him, was the screen of a truth, for him more infamous. Confounded by the subtlety of the judge, terrified b} r his cruel cleverness, by the rapidity of the blows given, by the exposure of the faults of all his life thus brought to light like so many grapnels to drag his conscience, Lucien was like an animal which the club of the slaughter-house has missed. Free and innocent in the eye of the law when he entered that room, in one hour 336 Lucien de Rubempre. he saw himself a criminal by his own confession. The final, horrible mockery came when the judge, cold and calm, let him see that the revelation he had made was the result of a blunder. Camusot was thinking of Jacques Collin's claim as a father, while Lucien, im- pelled by the fear of seeing his connection with a convict made public, had imitated the celebrated inad- vertence of the murderers of Ibycus. One of the claims to glory of Royer-Collard is that he maintained the constant triumph of natural sentf- ments over imposed sentiments ; and he maintained, also, the inviolability of pledges, declaring that the law of hospitality was binding even to the point of annulling the value of a judicial oath. He confessed this theory in the face of all the world from the French chambers ; he bravely defended conspirators, and showed that it was human to obey the demands of friendship rather than the tyrannical laws drawn from social arsenals for such or such cases. In short, Natural Right has laws which have never yet been promulgated; which are more efficacious and better known than those forged by society. Lucien had just betrayed — to his own detriment, as it proved — the law of solidarity, which obliged him to be silent, and let Jacques Collin defend himself; but, worse than that, he had accused him ! For his own sake, in his own interests, the man should have been, then and always, Carlos Herrera. Monsieur Camusot enjoyed his triumph. He held two guilty men ; with the hand of the law he had struck down an idol of fashionable society, and he had found the hitherto unfindable Jacques Collin. He Lucien de Bubempre. 337 would, undoubtedly, be considered one of the ablest of examining judges. So he let the unhappy prisoner keep silence ; but he studied that silence of consterna- tion ; he saw the drops of sweat accumulating on that anguished face, swelling and rolling down to mingle with two streams of tears. "Why weep, Monsieur de Rubempre," he said at last. "You are, as I have told }ou, the heir of Mademoiselle Esther, who had no direct or collateral heirs ; and her estate amounts to nearly eight mil- lions, if the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs are found." This was a last blow to the wretched man. Had he borne himself firmly for ten minutes, as Jacques Collin had said in his note, Lucien would have attained to the height of his desires. He could have paid his debt to Jacques Collin, and parted from him ; he was rich, and could have married Clotilde. Nothing shows more elo- quently than this scene the power given to examining judges by the isolation in which accused persons are kept previous to and during the period of their exam- inations, and the value of such a communication as Asia had been able to convey to Jacques Collin. "Ah, monsieur!" replied Lucien, with the bitter- ness and iron} T of a man who makes a pedestal of his accomplished misfortune, " how justly } r ou say in your legal language, ' undergo an examination.' Between the physical torture of former times and the mental torture of to-day I would not, for m} 7 part, hesitate. I prefer the sufferings inflicted by an executioner. What more do you want of me ? " he added, proudly. " In this place," replied the magistrate, becoming 22 338 Lucien de Rubempre. haughty and disdainful in reply to the poet's pride, " I alone have the right to ask questions." " But I had the right not to answer," murmured poor Lueien, whose intelligence had now come full}- back to him. " Clerk, read his examination to the accused." u Again * accused ' ! " said Lucien to himself. "While the clerk read the document, Lucien came to a resolution which obliged him to fawn upon Monsieur Camusot. When the murmur of Coquart's voice ceased, the poet quivered like a man who has slept through a noise to which his senses were accustomed, and who is waked by its cessation. "You must sign that report of your examination," said the judge. 44 And then will you set me at liberty?" asked Lu- cien, with some irony. " Not yet," replied Camusot ; " but to-morrow, after you have been confronted with Jacques Collin, you will no doubt be free. Justice must first know whether you are or are not an accomplice in the crimes committed by that individual since his escape in 1820. However, you will no longer be kept in solitary confinement. I will write to the director to put you in one of the best rooms in the Pistole." " Can I have writing materials? " " They will give you whatever } T ou ask for; I will send the order b} 7 the usher who takes you back." Lucien signed the report mechanically, and he marked certain passages in obedience to Coquart's directions with the meekness of a resigned victim. A single de- tail will do more to show the condition in which he now Lucien de Bubempre. 339 was than any lengthened description. The announce- ment that he would be confronted with Jacques Collin had dried the drops of sweat upon his face ; his dry eyes shone with intolerable brilliancy. In short, he became, in a moment that was rapid as lightning, what Jacques Collin was, a man of iron. In natures like that of Lucien, which Jacques Collin had so truly analyzed, these sudden passings from a state of complete demoralization to an almost metallic condition (so tremendous is the tension of human force) are among the most striking phenomena in the life of ideas. Will returns, like water to a dried-up spring ; it infuses itself into the apparatus prepared for the ac- tion of its mysterious constitutive substance, — then the dead body becomes a man, and the man springs forth armed with full strength for mighty struggles. Lucien put Esther's letter and the miniature it en- closed upon his heart. Then he bowed haughtily to Monsieur Camusot, and walked with a firm step through the corridors between two gendarmes. " That is an utter scoundrel ! " said the judge to his clerk, as the door closed on Lucien. "He thought to save himself by sacrificing his accomplice." "Of the two," replied Coquart, timidly, "the con- vict is the better man." "I give you your liberty for to-day, Coquart," said the judge. "We have done enough of this. Send away the people who are waiting ; tell them to come back to-morrow. Stay ! go first to the attorney-general, and see if he is still in his office. If he is, ask him to give me five minutes' audience. Oh, he is certainly there ! " added the judge, looking at a shabby clock of green- 34:0 Lucien de BubemprS. painted wood with gilt lines ; " it is only a quarter to four." These examinations, which are read so rapidly, take an immense amount of time, for the questions and an- swers are all written down at full length. This is one of the causes of the great delays in criminal cases, and of the length of an accused person's confinement. To persons in any small business it is often ruin ; to the rich and prosperous, shame ; for to them a prompt release repairs, as far it can be repaired, the misfortune of an arrest. This is why the two scenes just enacted in the judge's office had taken all the time consumed by Asia in deciphering her master's missives, in bringing a duchess from her boudoir, and inspiring energy and a course of action to Madame de Serizy. Lucien de BubemprL 341 XXIV. WHAT WOMEN CAN DO IN PARIS. Camusot, now alone and considering how his clever- ness could be made to conduce to his own advance- ment, took up the reports of the two examinations, reread them, and resolved to show them to the attorne} T - general, ostensibly to ask his advice. While he was meditating thus, his usher entered to say the footman of Madame de Serizy wished to speak to him very par- ticularly. On a sign from Camusot, a man-servant, dressed like a master, presented himself, looked alter- nately at the judge and the usher, and said: " Is it Monsieur Camusot to whom I have the honor — " u Yes," replied the judge and the usher together. Camusot took a note which the servant presented to him, and read as follows : — In behalf of several interests, which you will readily com- prehend, dear Monsieur Camusot, do not examine Monsieur de Rubempre ; we will bring you proofs of his innocence, so that he may be at once set at liberty. D. de Maufrigneuse. L. de Se'rizy. Burn this note before the bearer. Camusot perceived too late that he had made an immense mistake in setting traps for Lucien. He be- gan to obe} 7 the two great ladies by lighting a candle 342 Lucien de Rubempre. and burning the letter, which was written by the duch- ess. The valet bowed respectfully. " Is Madame de Serizy coming here?" asked the judge. " Yes, monsieur, immediately," replied the man. Coquart here returned and informed his master that the attorney-general was awaiting him. Under pressure of the blunder he had committed, against his ambition but to the profit of justice, the judge, in whom seven }'ears' practice had developed a shrewdness of which no man who has measured swords with grisettes during his legal studies is devoid, remembered certain weapons which might yet pro- tect him from the resentment of the two ladies. The candle at which he had burned their note was still lighted; he used it to seal up thirty letters from Madame de Maufrigneuse to Lucien and the still more voluminous correspondence of Madame de Serizy. Tak- ing these packets and the reports of the examinations with him, he went to his meeting with the attorney- general. The Palais de Justice is a mass of confused struct- ures heaped one upon another, — some parts grand, some mean ; each injuring the others by want of har- mony. The Salle des Pas-Perdus is the largest of all known halls ; but its bareness is a horror and discour- agement to the eye. This vast cathedral of chicanery crushes the Royal Court. In the Galerie Marchande is a stairway with two balusters, beneath which opens a large double door. The stairway leads to the court of assizes ; the door to a second court of the same kind ; for in some years the crimes committed in the Lucien de Rulemjpre. 343 department of the Seine require the session of two courts. Here too is the office of the attorney-general, the barristers' room, their library, the offices of the so- licitor-general, and the assistants of the attorney-gen- eral. All these premises, for we must use a generic term, are connected by dark passages, and corkscrew staircases which are the disgrace of architecture, of Paris, and of France. A painter of manners and cus- toms actually shrinks from describing the miserable pas- sage three feet wide where the witnesses to the upper court of assizes are made to wait. As for the stove which heats the court-room it would disgrace a cafe on the Boulevard Montparnasse. The office of the attorney-general is in an octagon wing which flanks the Galerie Marchande. This part of the Palais de Justice is overshadowed by the lofty and magnificent elevations of the Sainte-Chapelle. All is silent and gloomy. Monsieur de Granville, a worthy successor to the great magistrates of the old parliament, had not felt willing to leave the Palais until he knew how Lucien's affair had ended. He expected news from Camusot, and the judge's message had thrown him into that in- voluntary revery which a period of waiting gives to the firmest minds. He was seated in the recess of a win- dow ; but he now rose, and walked up and down ; for he had found Camusot that morning, when he met him intentionally, very dull of comprehension, and he felt vaguely uneasy ; for, in addition to his own good-will to Lucien, there was another reason why he should wish to see him cleared. The interests of his best friend and one of his warmest protectors, the Comte de Serizy, a 344 Lucien de Bubempre. minister of State, a member of the Privy Council, and the future chancellor of France, were concerned in the affair. The world knew that Lucien de Rubempre was an intimate at the count's house, and the attorney-gen- eral foresaw the scandal that would be made, both in public, in society, and at court, if the guilt of a man whose name had already been ill-naturedly coupled with that of the countess was proved. The dignity of his own function, however, forbade his attempting to interfere with the absolute independence of the examining judge. " Ah !" he said to himself, crossing his arms, "for- merly power had the right to assume jurisdiction where necessary. Our mania for equality " (he dared not say " legalit}'," as a poet lately declared with great courage in the Chamber) " will be the ruin of our present era." At the moment when the attorney-general, pursu- ing his train of thought, had just said to himself: " Camusot will be sure to commit some stupidity," the examining judge himself tapped at the door of the office. " Well! my dear Camusot, how has that affair gone about which we were speaking this morning?" "Badly for the accused, monsieur le comte ; read the reports and judge for yourself." He offered the reports to the attorney-general, who took out his eyeglasses and retired to the window ; the reading was soon over. "You have done your duty," said the attorney- general, in a curt tone. "Those reports settle the matter ; justice must take its course. You have shown such ability that your services as an examining judge can never be dispensed with." Lucien de Biibempre. 345 If Monsieur de Granville had said to Camusot: "You will be all your life an examining judge and nothing more," he could not have been more explicit than he was in that compliment. Camusot turned cold to the marrow of his bones. -- Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, to whom I owe — " " Ah! the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse! " said Gran- ville, interrupting the judge. " True, 30U have not 3*ielded, I see, to an}* influence. You have done well, monsieur. You will be a great magistrate." At this moment Comte Octave de Bauvan opened the door without knocking, and said to the Comte de Granville : — " My dear count, I bring you a pretty woman, who does n't know where to turn, and has lost her way in our labyrinth." And he came in, leading by the hand the Comtesse de Serizy. ". You here, madame ! " exclaimed the attornej'-gen- eral, offering her his own arm-chair, — "and at this moment ! Here is Monsieur Camusot, madame," he said, motioning to the judge. " Bauvan," he added, addressing that illustrious orator of the Restoration, '* wait for me in the room of the chief-justice, — he is still there ; and I'll join you." The Comte de Bauvan understood not only that it was too late, but that the attorney-general had some reason for wanting an excuse to leave his office. Madame de Se'rizy had not committed the mistake of coming to the Palais in her own carriage, with its hand- some hammer-cloth and armorial bearings and two foot- 346 Lucien de Bubempre. men behind it in white silk stockings. On the contrary, she arrived in a hackney-coach, wearing a plain brown dress, a black shawl, and a velvet bonnet the flowers of which had been replaced by a black lace veil. M Did you receive our letter? " she said to Camusot, whose bewildered air surprised her. " Too late, alas ! Madame la comtesse," replied the judge, who had no tact or presence of mind except in his own office and among his prisoners. "Why too late?" She looked at Monsieur de Granville and saw mis- fortune on his face. " It must not be too late," she added in a despotic tone. Women, pretty women, in Madame de Serizy's posi- tion, are the spoilt children of French civilization. If women in other countries knew what a fashionable, rich, and titled woman is in Paris, they would all want to come and share such splendid royalty. Women, bound only by the laws of decorum and good-manners, by what may be called, in short, the Code Feminine, laugh at the laws that men have made. They say any- thing ; they refrain from no caprice, no wilfulness ; for they thoroughly understand that they are responsible for nothing except their feminine honor and their chil- dren. They will say, laughing, the most preposterous things and expect to make them law ; like the pretty Madame de Bauvan, who, coming to the Palais to fetch her husband in the early cla3'S of their marriage, was heard to say, " Make haste and get through judging, — I want you." "Madame," said the attorney-general, "Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre. 347 Lucien de Rubempre is not guilty of robbery or mur- der, but Monsieur Camusot has made him confess another crime that is almost as great." " What crime? " she demanded. " He has admitted," said the attorney -general in her ear, " that he is the friend and pensioner of an escaped convict. The Abbe Carlos Herrera who has lived with him for the last seven years is the famous Jacques Collin — " Madame de Serizy felt as if she were branded with hot irons herself while the count was speaking. " And the upshot?" she asked. u The upshot," said Monsieur de Granville, continu- ing her sentence and still speaking in a low voice, " is that the convict will be brought before the court of assizes, and if Lucien does not stand by his side as guilty of having profited knowingly hy the thefts of his accomplice, he must certainly appear as a witness pain- fully compromised." "Never! " she cried aloud, with amazing decision. 11 1 will never see a man whom the world knows to be my best friend declared in a court of law the comrade of a convict — The King is devoted to my husband." M Madame," said the attorney-general, aloud, and smiling, " the King has not the slightest power over the most insignificant examining judge in his kingdom. That is the grandeur of our new institutions. I have myself just congratulated Monsieur Camusot on his ability — " " Say rather his clumsiness," said the countess, sharply, who was less disturbed by Lucien's intimacy with an outlaw than by his relations with Esther. 348 Lucien de Rubempre. " If you will read the report of the examinations to which Monsieur Camusot subjected the two accused persons, you will see that everything depends on him." After this hint, the only interference the attorney- general could allow himself, and after receiving a look of feminine subtlety, the attorney -general went toward the door of his office. There he turned, and added : " Excuse me, madame, but I have a word or two I must say to Bauvan." This, in the language of societ} r , signified to the countess : " I don't want to witness what passes be- tween you and Camusot." "What are these reports of examinations?" said the countess, ver} T sweetly, looking at Camusot, who stood all abashed before the wife of one of the greatest personages in the State. " Madame," replied Camusot, " a clerk takes down in writing the questions of the judge and the answers of the accused ; the report is then signed by the clerk, the judge, and the accused. These reports form the basis of the case ; they determine whether or not the accused person shall be sent before the court of assizes." "Oh! " she said, " and suppose these reports were suppressed ? " " Madame, a judge would commit a crime — " " It was a much greater crime to have written them," she said. " But, at this moment, they appear to be the only proof against Lucien. Read me those reports, that I may see what means we still have to save him ; it is a matter in which my happiness and that of Mon- sieur de Serizy are concerned." Lucien de Bubempre. 349 "Madame," said Camusot, " do not think that I have forgotten the consideration I owe to you. Had this examination been confided to Monsieur Popinot, for instance, you would have been much less safe than you are with me. The police seized all papers in Monsieur Lucien's house, even your letters — " "Oh! my letters." "Here they are, sealed up," said the judge, giving her the packet. The countess rang the bell, as if she had been in her own house. The office servant of the attorney-general entered. " A light," she said. The servant lighted a candle, and put it on the mantel-shelf, while the countess looked over her let- ters, counted them, crumpled them up, and threw them on the hearth. Then she twisted up the last, lit it at the candle, and set fire to the heap below. Camusot stood gazing rather vacantly at the flaming papers, still holding the reports in his hand. The countess, who appeared to be wholly intent on destroying the proofs of her affection, was observing the judge cau- tiously out of the corner of her eye. She took her time, calculated her movements, and then, with the agility of a cat, she seized the two reports and flung them into the flames. Camusot snatched them out ; the countess sprang upon him, and seized the burning papers. Then followed a struggle, in which Camusot cried out, "Madame! madame ! you are attempting a — Madame ! " A man rushed into the room ; the countess could not restrain a cry of surprise as she recognized her hus- 350 Lucien de Eubempre. band, followed by Monsieur de Granville and Monsieur de Bauvan. Nevertheless, determined to save Lucien at any cost, she did not loosen her grip upon the terri- ble papers, which she held with the strength of pincers, though the flames had already seared her delicate skin. At last Camusot, whose own fingers were burned, seemed ashamed of the situation, and relinquished the papers, of which little now remained but the parts cov- ered by the grasp of the two wrestlers. This scene passed in a moment of time much less than that which it takes to read it. " What is all this between you and Madame de Seriz} 7 ? " said the cabinet minister to Camusot. Before the judge could answer, the countess had applied the fragments of the reports to the flame of the candle and thrown them upon the heap that was smouldering on the hearth. "I shall be obliged," said Camusot, "to enter a complaint against Madame la comtesse." " What has she done?" asked the attorney-general, looking alternately at the judge and the countess. u I have burned the examinations," said the woman of the world, laughing, so delighted with her high- handed measure that she did not yet feel her burns ; " and if it is a crime, — well, monsieur can do his hor- rible scribblings over again ! " "True," said Camusot, endeavoring to recover his dignity. "Well, well, it is all for the best! " said the attor- ney-general. "But, my dear countess, you mustn't often take such liberties with the magistracy, for you might not always be recognized for what you are." Lucien de Eubempre. 351 " Monsieur Camusot has bravely resisted a woman whom no one resists ; the honor of the robe is therefore safe ! " said the Comte de Bauvan, laughing. " Ah ! Monsieur Camusot resisted, did he?" said the attorney-general, laughing ; " he is very strong." Thus a serious, if not criminal, proceeding was turned into the joke of a pretty woman, at which even Camusot himself was now laughing. But the attorney general caught sight of a man who did not laugh, and he took the Comte de Serizy apart. " My friend," he whispered in his ear, ''this unfor- tunate affair compels me to compromise for the first and last time in my life with my official duty." He rang the bell, and the servant came. M Go to the office of the 'Gazette des Tribuneaux,' and tell Maitre Massol to come here, if you can find him. My dear judge," he said to Camusot, taking him apart from the others, "go back to your office, and make your clerk rewrite the examination of the Abbe Carlos Herrera ; this can be done without impropriety, as he did not sign the first. To-morrow you must con- front this Spanish diplomatist with Messieurs de Ras- tignac and Bianchon, who will not recognize in him our Jacques Collin. Certain of being set at liberty, the abbe will sign the papers. Set Lucien de Rubempre at liberty at once. You may be certain that he will never speak of the examination he has undergone. The ' Gazette des Tribuneaux ' will announce his re- lease to-morrow. And now let us see whether justice and the law are injured in any way by these proceedings. If the Spaniard is the convict, we have a hundred ways, now that our eyes are on him, of retaking him. 352 Lucien de Rubeinpri. We have already sought for diplomatic enlightenment as to his conduct In Spain. Corentin is on his traces. As for Lucien, there is no charge against him. The robbery of the seven hundred thousand francs is, in point of fact, to his injury. He had much better lose that money than lose his reputation by recovering it. That young man is a spotted orange, m} T dear Camusot ; but we need n't make him rotten. This matter can all be settled in half an hour. Go now ; we will await you here. It is only half-past four ; the judges are still at the Palais. Let me know if you can get an order of release at once, or whether Lucien must wait till to- morrow." Camusot left the room after bowing to all present. Madame de Serizy, who by this time was suffering from her burns, did not return his bow. Monsieur de Serizy had rushed from the room while the attorney-general was talking with the judge, and now returned with a little pot of cerate, with which he dressed his wife's burns as he whispered in her ear : — " Leontine, why did you come here without letting me know?" " Oh, my friend," she whispered, " forgive me ! I was beside myself ; but it was in your interests as well as mine." " Be fond of that young man, since fate wills it," said her husband; "but don't take the whole world into 3'our confidence." " Well, my dear countess," said Monsieur de Gran- ville, after talking for a time with Octave de Beauvan, "I hope that 30U will be able to carry Monsieur de Rubempre home to dinner this very evening." Lucien de Rubempre. 353 This half-promise produced such a reaction in Ma- dame de Seriz} T that she wept. M I'll try to find some ushers to bring him here, so that you may not see him escorted hy gendarmes," added Monsieur de Granville. "Oh, you are good!" she said, with an effusion of gratitude that made her voice divinely musical. 354 Lucien de Bubempre. XXV. HOW IT ENDED. While pretty women, cabinet ministers, and magis- trates conspired to save Lucien, let us see what was happening in the Conciergerie. As he passed through the guichet Lucien said to the clerk that Monsieur Camusot had permitted him to write, and he asked for pens, ink, and paper ; which a turn- key received the order to take to him after a word said in the director's ear by the judge's usher. During the time the turnkey took in obtaining and bringing up to Lucien the things he had asked for, the unfortunate young man, to whom the idea of be- ing confronted with Jacques Collin was intolerable, fell into one of those meditations in which the idea of suicide, to which he had already yielded without accom- plishment, attains to mania. According to some great alienists, suicide in certain organizations is the termi- nation of a mental alienation. Since his arrest Lucien had fastened on that idea. Esther's letter increased his desire to die, bj r reminding him of Romeo rejoin- ing Juliet. When materials were brought to him, he wrote as follows : — This is my Testament. I, the undersigned, give and bequeath to the children of my sister, Madame l£ve Chardon, wife of David Sechard, formerly a printer at Angouleme, all the property, real or Zucien de Bubempre. 355 personal, of which I die possessed, excepting such as may- be required to pay my debts and the following legacies, which I request my executor to do. I entreat Monsieur de Serizy to accept the office of execu- tor of this my will. There shall be paid : (1) to Monsieur l'Abbe Carlos Herrera the sum of three hundred thousand francs ; (2) to Monsieur le Baron de Nucingen fourteen hundred thousand francs, which sum is to be reduced by seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, in case the money lost from Made- moiselle Esther's apartment be recovered. I give and bequeath, as heir of Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck, the sum of seven hundred and sixty thousand francs to the Religious Houses of Paris to found an asylum to be specially devoted to public prostitutes who may desire to quit their career of vice and perdition. In addition, I bequeath to the said Religious Houses the sum necessary to purchase an investment in the Funds at five per cent, producing thirty thousand francs a year, — the said interest to be employed semi-annually in the release of prisoners for debt, when their indebtedness amounts to a maximum of two thousand francs. I request Monsieur de Serizy to devote the sum of forty thousand francs to a monument to be erected in the East- ern Cemetery over Mademoiselle Esther ; and I direct that I be buried beside her. This monument is to be made like the tombs of antiquity; it shall be square, and our two forms in white marble shall lie upon the lid, the heads rest- ing on cushions, the hands clasped and raised to heaven. This tomb is to have no inscription. I request Monsieur de Serizy to give to Monsieur Eugene de Rastignac the toilet-set in gold which will be found in my room, as a remembrance. Lastly, I request my executor to accept from me the gift I make him of my library. Lucien Chardon de Rubempr^. 356 Lucien de EubemprS. This will was enclosed in a letter addressed to Mon- sieur le Comte de Granville, attorney-general of the Royal Court of Paris, and thus worded : — Monsieur le Comte, — I intrust to you my will. When you open this letter I shall be no more. In the hope of recovering my liberty I replied so basely to the insidious questions of Monsieur Camusot that, in spite of my in- nocence, I may be involved in an infamous trial. Even supposing me to be acquitted of all blame, life would be impossible according to the susceptibilities of the world. Forward, I beg of you, the enclosed letter to the Abbe Don Carlos Herrera, without opening it ; and send to Monsieur Camusot the formal retractation of my testimony which I enclose. I think that the authorities will not dare to break the seal of a package directed to you. Confident of this, I bid you farewell, offering you for the last time my respects, and begging you to believe that in thus writing I have meant to give you a mark of gratitude for all the many kindnesses you have shown to Your servitor, Lucien de R. To the Abbe Carlos Herrera : My dear Abbe", — I have received nothing but bene- fits from you, and I have betrayed you. This involuntary ingratitude kills me, and when you read these lines I shall no longer exist, — you are no longer here to save me. You gave me full right, in case I found an advantage in it, to sacrifice you, and throw you away like the end of a cigar; but I have sacrificed you foolishly. To get my. self out of difficulty, misled by the captious questioning of the examining judge, I, your spiritual. son, whom you adopted, went over to the side of those who wish at any Lucien de Rubempre. 357 cost to destroy you by discovering an identity (which I know to be impossible) between you and a French criminal. All is over. Between a man of your power and me, of whom you have tried to make a greater person than I could be, there should be no silly sentiment at the moment of our final parting. You have wished to make me powerful and famous ; you have flung me into the gulf of suicide — that is all. I have long seen its vertigo approaching me. There is, as you once said, a posterity of Cain, and one of Abel. Cain, in the grand drama of humanity, is Opposi- tion. You are descended from Adam by that line, into which the devil has continued to blow his flame, the first sparks of which were cast on Eve. Among the demons of this descent some appear, from time to time, of terrible vigor, of vast organization, combining all human forces, and re- sembling those rampant animals of the desert whose life requires the great spaces in which they are found. These men are dangerous to society, as lions would be dangerous in Normandy : they must have food ; they devour common men, and suck the gold of fools ; even their games are so perilous that they end by killing the poor dog of whom they make a companion, an idol. When God wills it, these mysterious beings are named Moses, Attila, Charlemagne, Robespierre, Napoleon ; but when he lets a generation of these gigantic instruments rust in the depths of ocean they are nothing more than Pugatcheff, Fouche, Louvel, and Carlos Herrera. Gifted with a mighty power over tender souls, they attract and knead them. 'T is grand, 't is fine in its way; 'tis the poisonous plant with glowing colors that entices children in a wood ; 't is the poesy of Evil. Men like you should live in lairs and never leave them. You made me live within the circle of this stupendous life, and I have had my fill of existence. Therefore I withdraw my head from the Gordian knot of your policy to fasten it in the running noose of my cravat. 358 Lucien de RubemprS. To repair my fault, I transmit to the attorney-general a formal retractation of my testimony. You will see to its being of service to you. In pursuance of my will you will receive, Monsieur Tab be, the sums belonging to your Order which you spent, most imprudently, on me, in consequence of the paternal affection you have always shown me. Farewell, then, farewell, grandiose statue of Evil and cor- ruption ; farewell, you, who in the path of Good would have been greater than Ximenes, greater than Richelieu. You have kept your promises ; I find myself once more on the banks of the Charente, after owing to you the enchantments of a dream ; but, unfortunately, it is not the river of mine own country in which I was about to drown the peccadilloes of my youth, — it is the Seine, and my pool is a cell ill the Conciergerie. Do not regret me. My contempt for you is equal to my admiration. Lucien. Declaration. I, the undersigned, do hereby retract entirely all that is contained in the report of the examination, which I was made to undergo this day by Monsieur Camusot. The Abbe Carlos Herrera was in the habit of calling him- self my spiritual father ; and I mistook the word when used by the judge in another sense, no doubt erroneously. I know that, for political reasons and to destroy the ex- istence of certain secrets which concern the cabinets of Spain and the Tuileries, obscure diplomatic agents are en- deavoring to show that the Abbe* Carlos Herrera is an escaped convict named Jacques Collin ; but the said Abbe Carlos Herrera never made me any other confidence on this subject beyond that of his efforts to prove either the de- cease or the existence of the said Jacques Collin. At the Conciergerie, May 15, 1830. Lucien de Rubempke\ Laden de Eicbempre. 359 The fever of suicide gave to Lucien the same lucid- ity of ideas and activity of hand which are known to authors in the heat and fever of composition. So great was this impulse in him that these four papers were written in the space of half an hour. He made them into a package, fastened the package with wafers and stamped them, with the force of delirium, with a seal bearing his coat-of-arms that he wore on his finger. Then he placed the package conspicuously on the floor in the middle of the room. Certainly it would have been difficult to act with more dignity in the false position to which infamy had brought Lucien. He saved his own memory, and he repaired the wrong done to his accomplice, so far as the mind of the man of the world could annul the effects of his actions. If Lucien had been placed in one of the secret-con- finement cells, he would have found it impossible to carry out his design ; for those boxes of smooth stone have no furniture but a species of camp-bedstead and a bucket. There is not a nail, not a chair, not even a stool. The camp bedstead is so securely fastened that it is impossible to remove it from its place without a labor that would soon be noticed by the turnke}' through the iron grating, which is always open. In the rooms of the Pistole, and especially in that where Lucien had been placed by the judge's orders out of regard for a young man belonging to the highest class of Parisian societ} T , the movable bedstead, a table, and a chair could all serve the purpose of suicide, without, how- ever, making it easy. Lucien wore a long black silk cravat, and, on his waj' back from examination he rec- 360 Lucien de Eubempre. ollected the manner in which Pichegru, more or less voluntarily, killed himself. Death by hanging requires a strong support and sufficient space between the body and the ground to prevent the feet from touching any- thing. Now the window of his cell looking on the preau had no fastening, and the iron bars that pro- tected it on the outside were the whole width of a thick wall awa} r from the room, and gave him therefore no point of support. The plan that his faculty of invention suggested rapidly to Lucien's mind was as follows : The high and deep recess of the window, which resembled a fun- nel, prevented Lucien from looking out into the preau, but it also prevented the turnkey from seeing what took place about it. Now, though the lower window- panes had been replaced by wooden planks, the glass remained in the upper portion of the sash, divided into small panes with a heavy frame and cross-bars. By mounting on the table, Lucien could reach the glazed portion of the window, and, by removing or breaking two panes, he could use the strong cross-bar between them as his point of support. He resolved to do this : to pass his cravat around the bar, making a turn about his own neck and fastening the end securety, and then to knock away the table from under him with his feet. He moved the table to the window noiselessly, took off his coat and waistcoat, and mounted the table with- out the least hesitation, to remove the panes above and below the first cross-bar. When he was thus raised he could look into the preau, and there he beheld a magic spectacle, seen by him for the first time ; for the director of the Conciergerie, following Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre. 361 Camusot's order, had sent Lucien to his cell through the underground passages, so as not to expose him to the gaze of the prisoners who were walking in the preau. The reader shall judge whether the sight of that prome- nade was of a nature to strongly affect the soul of a poet. The preau of the Conciergerie is flanked on the quay by the Tour d'Argent and the Tour Bonbec, — the space between the two towers being exacth* the width of the preau. The Galerie de Saint Louis, which leads from the Galerie Marchande to the Court of Appeals and to the Bonbec tower (in which, they say, St. Louis' study still exists) gives the length of the preau pre- cisely. The solitarj-confinement cells and the pistoles are under the Galerie Marchande. Marie Antoinette, whose dungeon was beneath the present secret cells, was led to the revolutionary tribunal, which held its sit- tings in the Court of Appeals, b} r a dreadful staircase cut in the thickness of the wall of the Galerie Mar- chande. One side of the preau, the side of the Galerie de Saint Louis, presents to the eye a perspective of Gothic columns, between which the architects of I know not what epoch have constructed two rows of cells to accommodate as man}' accused persons as pos- sible, — filling up with brick and plaster the beautiful capitals, the pointed arches, and the shafts of columns of the glorious gallery. Beneath the room said to be Saint Louis' study, in the Bonbec tower, is a cork- screw staircase which leads to the cells. This prostitu- tion of the noblest memories of France has a hideous effect. At the height where Lucien now stood, his eye took 362 Zucien de Rubempre. in the length of the beautiful gallery, and the details of the structure which united it to the two towers of which he saw the pointed roofs. He paused, amazed ; his suicide was delayed by admiration. To-day the phe- nomena of hallucination are so fully admitted by sci- ence that this mirage of our senses, this strange faculty of our mind, is no longer disputed. Man, having under the pressure of a sentiment reached the point of be- coming a monomaniac because of its intensity, often falls into the condition produced by opium, hashish, or the protoxide of nitrogen. Then appear to him spec- tres, phantoms ; dreams take shapes ; things ruined or deca}*ed resume their primitive conditions. What had been but a mere idea in the brain becomes an animated creation. Science has come to believe in these days that under the effort of passions in their paroxysm the brain injects itself with blood, and that this congestion produces the play of visions in our waking state, — so reluctant is it to admit that thought is a living force ! Lucien saw the Palais in all its primitive beaut}'. The colonnade was young, and lithesome, and fresh. The dwelling of Saint Louis reappeared as it had been ; he admired the Babylonian proportions and the Oriental fantasies of that cradle of our kings. He accepted this sublime vision as the poetic farewell to him of civilized creation. While arranging his means of death, he asked himself how it was that this marvellous sight existed unknown in Paris. He was two Luciens, — Lucien, the poet, moving through the middle- ages, beneath the arches and the towers of Saint Louis ; and Lucien, making readj r his suicide. When Monsieur de Granville left his office to find, as Lucien de Rubempre. 363 he had said, the ushers to fetch Lucien, the director of the Conciergerie met him, with an expression on his face that induced the attorney-general to re-enter it. In his hand the director held a packet, which he offered to Monsieur de Granville, sa}ing : — "Monsieur, here is a letter addressed to you by an accused person whose sad fate brings me here." " Can it be Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre?" asked Monsieur de Granville, struck by a presentiment. " Yes, monsieur. The warder in the preau heard the breaking of glass in the Pistole, and the person in the adjoining cell, hearing the death groans of the un- fortunate 3 r oung man, screamed violently. The warder came to me quite pale with the sight that had struck his eyes, — he had seen the prisoner hanging at the window by means of his cravat." Though the director spoke in a low voice, the terrible cry uttered by Madame de Serizy proved that in cru- cial circumstances our organs have incalculable power. The countess heard, or divined, the truth ; and before Monsieur de Granville could turn round, before Mon- sieur de Serizy or Monsieur de Bauvan could oppose her rapid movements, she had slipped, like a flash, through the door, and had reached the Galerie Mar- chande, along which she ran till she came to the stair- case that leads to the rue de la Barillerie. A lawyer was taking off his robe at the door of one of the booths in the galleiy, where at that time they sold shoes, or leased robes and wigs. The countess asked him the way to the Conciergerie. "Down there, and turn to the left; the entrance is on the Quai de l'Horloge, first arcade." 364 Lucien de RubemprL " That woman is mad," said the keeper of the booth ; " some one should follow her." No one could have followed her; she flew. Physi- cians must explain how women of society, whose strength is never used, can find in the crises of life the extraordinary power which they show. She rushed along the arcade toward the guichet with such rapidity that the sentinel did not see her enter. There she fell against the iron railing like a feather driven by the wind, and shook the iron bars with such fur} T that she broke the one she had seized. The two ends struck her on the breast, from which the blood flowed, and she sank down, crying, "Open! open!" in a voice which horrified the jailers. The turnkeys ran to her. " Open ! I am sent by the attorney-general to save the dead ! " While the countess was going round by the rue de la Barillerie and the Quai de l'Horloge, her husband and Monsieur de Granville had hurried through the interior of the Palais to the Conciergerie, feeling sure of her intentions. In spite of their haste, the}' did not get there until she had fallen, fainting, at the railing, and was being lifted by the gendarmes, who came down from the guard-room. When the director, who accom- panied the two gentlemen, appeared, the guichet was opened, and the countess carried into the office. There she sprang up, clasping her hands, and crying out : — M To see him ! to see him ! Oh, messieurs, I will do no harm! But let me see him, dead or living! Ah! there you are, my friend. Oh, you are good ! " she said to her husband, sinking down again. Lucien de fiubempre. 365 " Let us carry her away," said Monsieur de Bauvan. "No, let us go to Lucien's cell," said Monsieur de Granville, reading that wish in the alarmed eyes of Monsieur de Serizy. He lifted the countess, and took one arm, while Mon- sieur de Bauvan took the other. " Monsieur," said the Comte de Serizy to the director, "you will be as silent as death about all this." " Be sure of that," replied the director. " You have done wisely. This lady — " " She is my wife." "Ah, excuse me! Well, she will certainly faint away entirely when she sees the body, and you can carry her while unconscious to a carriage." "That is what I was thinking," said the count. " Will you send one of your men to tell my people in the rue du Harley to come round to the guichet? There is only one carriage there." " We can save him," said the countess, walking with a courage and energ} r that surprised her companions. "There are manj- ways of restoring life," and she dragged along the two magistrates, crying out to the warder, " Go on, go on ! quicker, quicker ! one second may save his life ! " When the door of the cell was opened, and the countess saw Lucien hanging as his clothes might have hung in a wardrobe, she made a bound forward as if to seize him, but fell, with her face to the floor of the cell, uttering stifled cries that were like a gurgle. Five minutes later she was being taken in the count's carriage to her own house, her husband kneeling beside her. The Comte de Bauvan had gone to summon her physician. 366 Lucien de Eubempre. The director of the Conciergerie examined the broken iron bar of the outer gate of the guichet, and said to his clerk : — "Nothing was spared to make those gates strong; the bars are wrought iron. They cost an immense sum ; there must have been a straw in that bar." The attorne} r -general, on reaching his office, said to Massol, whom he found waiting for him in the ante- chamber : — "Monsieur, I wish you to put what I shall now dic- tate to you in the ' Gazette ' to-morrow morning. You can write the beginning of the article, but this statement must be contained in it." And he dictated as follows : — " It is now admitted that Mademoiselle Esther killed herself voluntarily. " The alibi, amply proved, of Monsieur Lucien de Ru- bempre, and his innocence, make it the more regrettable that he should have been arrested, because at the very moment the examining judge was about to sign the order for his release, the young man died suddenly." " Your future, monsieur," said the count to Massol, " depends upon your discreetness as to the little service I now ask of } 7 ou." " As Monsieur le comte does me the honor to place confidence in me, I shall take the liberty," replied Massol, ' ' of offering him a suggestion. This article may excite injurious comments upon the judiciar}\" u The judiciary is strong enough to bear them," said the magistrate. "Permit me, monsieur le comte! With a trifling change of phrase all danger can be avoided." Lucien de Bubempre. 367 And he wrote as follows : — " The legal proceedings had nothing to do with this sad event. The autopsy, which was immediately performed, showed that death was due to aneurism in its last stages. Had Monsieur de Rubempre been affected by his arrest, his death would have occurred earlier. We are able to declare that so far from being troubled by that arrest, he laughed at it, and told those who accompanied him from Fontaine- bleau to Paris that as soon as he appeared before a magis- trate his innocence would appear." ' ' Will not that protect all ? " asked the lawyer- journalist. ^ I thank }'ou, monsieur," replied the attorney- general. Thus we see how great events of life are presented in the "local items," more or less veracious, of the daily press. Balzac in English. PIERRETTE AND The Vicar ok Tours. BY HONORS DE BALZAC. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. In Pierrette, which Miss Wormeley has added to her series of felicitous translations from the French master-fictionists, Balzac has made within brief compass a marvellously sympathetic study of the martyrdom of a young girl. Pierrette, a flower of Brittany, beautiful, pale, and fair and sweet, is taken as an undesired charge by sordid-minded cousins in Pro- vins, and like an exotic transplanted into a harsh and sour so>l she withers and fades under the cruel conditions of her new environment. Inciden- tally Balzac depicts in vivid colors the struggles of two shop-keepers — a brother and sister, who have amassed a little fortune in Paris — to gain a foothold among the bourgeoisie of their native town. These two become the prey of conspirators for political advancement, and the rivalries thus engendered shake the small provincial society to its centre. Put the charm of the tale is in the portrayal of the character of PierretLe, who understands only how to love, and who cannot live in an atmosphere of suspicion and ill-treatment. The story is of course sad, but its fidelity to life and the pathos of it are elements of unfailing interest. Balzac brings a score or more of people upon the stage, shows each one as he or she really is both in outward appearance and inward nature, and then allows motives and circumstances to work out an inevitable result. To watch this process is like being present at some wonderful chemical experiment where the ingredients are mixed with a deft and careful hand, and combine to produce effects of astonishing significance. The social genesis of the old maid in her most abhorrent form occupies much of Balzac's attention in Pierrette, and this theme also has a place in the story of The Vicar of Tours, bound up in this same volume. The vicar is a simple-minded priest who is happy enough till he takes up his quarters with an old maid landlady, who pesters and annoys him in many ways, and finally sends him forth despoiled of his worldly goods and a laughing-stock for the country- side. There is a great deal of humor in the tale, but one must confess that the humor is of a rather heavy sort, it being weighed down by a domi- nant satirical purpose. — The Beacon. One handsome i2mo volume, uniform with " Pere Goriot," " The Duchesse de Langeais," " Cesar Birotteau," " Eugenie Grandet," "Cousin Pons," "the Country Doctor," "The Tw« Brothers," and " The Alkahest." Half morocco, French style. Price, $1.50. ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. BALZAC IN ENGLISH. Lost Illusions : The Two Poets, and Eve and David. By HONORE DE BALZAC. Being the twenty-third volume of Miss Wormeley's translation of Balzac's novels. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. For her latest translation of the Balzac fiction cycle, Miss Wormeley gives us the first and third parts of " Illusion Perdue," under the caption of " Lost Illusions," namely, "The Two Poets "and " Eve and David." This arrange- ment is no doubt a good one, for the readers are thus enabled to follow the consecu- tive fortunes of the Angouleme folk, while the adventures of Eve's poet-brother, Lucien, which occur in Paris and make a tale by themselves, are thus left for a separate publication. The novel, as we have it, then, belongs to the category of those scenes from provincial life which Balzac found so stimulating to his genius. This story, certainly, in some respects takes high rank among them. The character-drawing is fine: Lucien, the ambitious, handsome, weak-willed, selfish, and easily-sinning young bourgeois, is contrasted with David, — a touching picture of the struggling inventor, born of the people and sublimely one-purposed and pure in his life. Eve, the type of a faithful large-brained and larger-hearted wife, who supports her husband through all his hardships with unfaltering courage and kindness, is another noble creation. David inherits a poorish printing business from his skin-flint of a father, neglects it while devoting all his time and energy to his discovery of an improved method of making paper; and through the evil, machinations of the rival printing firm of the Cointets, as well as the debts foisted on him by Lucien in Paris, he is brought into money difficulties and even into prisou. But his invention, although sold at a sacrifice to the cunning Cointets, gets him out of the hole at last, and he and his good wife retire on a comfortable competency, which is augmented at the death of his father into a good-sized fortune. The seamy side of law in the provinces is shown up in Balzac's keen, inimitable way in the description of the winding of the coils around the unsuspect- ing David and the depiction of such men as the brothers Cointets and the shrewd little petifogging rascal, Petit Claud. The pictures of Angouleme aristocratic circles, too, with Lucien as high priest, are vivacious, and show the novelist's wonderful observation in all ranks of life. The bit of wild romance by which Lucien becomes the secretary of a Spanish grandee lends a fairy-tale flavor to tne main episodes. Balzac, in whom is united the most lynx-eyed realism and the most extravagant romanticism, is ever and always one of the great masters in fiction of our century. Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of the price by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. BALZAC IN ENGLISH. A GREAT MAN m PROVINCES IN PARIS. By HONORE DE BALZAC. Being the second part of " Lost Illusions." Translated by Kath- arine Prescott Wormeley. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. " A Great Man of the Provinces in Paris " (Part Second of " Lost Illusions ") is a formidable revelation of journalistic "enterprise" under the Restoration, such as only an eye-witness or a real sufferer could give. The thread of the story of "Lost Illusions" is again taken up, with the weak and brilliant figure of Lucien Chardon, and carried through all the complications and entanglements of Parisian newspaper life. He elopes with a " married flirt," and is speedily disillusioned when he arrives in the metropolis, by finding his goddess old, ugly, and ridiculous in comparison with the style and charm of the Parisian elegante. He himself, handsome as an angel, gifted, poetic, but shifty, is a true type of the provincial Apollo Belvedere marching forth to conquer the worlds of fashion and literature, without any resources but his beauty and bis wit. Balzac, the matchless delineator of the Empire and the Restoration, introduces this curled darling (wonderfully like Alfred de Musset !) into the arcana of jour- nalism, makes him the pivot of suppers and scenes characteristic of the time of Louis XVIII. , shows him every variety of the genus publisher then flourishing, gives us fascinating glimpses of the great world of the Bourbons, and sets Lucien in an entrancing environment of gorgeous vice in which one illusion after another is mercilessly dispelled. Noble and beautiful chapters and faces occur by the way to redeem the ugliness and unrighteousness of the rest. Balzac has never painted a more pathetic face than poor fallen Coralie's, or a more striking and noble-minded group than the Brotherhood. Such features redeem a book charged with the foulness of a life inconceivable to Anglo-Saxon minds, and unfit for any pure soul to become familiar with, even through the brilliant, mirage- producing medium of a genius like Balzac's. — The Critic. The art of Balzac, the wonderful power of his contrast, the depth of his knowledge of life and men and things, this tremendous story illustrates. How admirably the rise of the poet is traced; the crescendo is perfect in gradation, yet as inexorable as fate. As for the fall, the effect is more depressing than a personal catastrophe. This is a book to read over and over, an epic of life in prose, more tremendous than the blank verse of " Paradise Lost " or the '' Divine Comedy." Miss Wormeley and the publishers deserve not congratula- tions alone, but thanks for adding this book and its predecessor, " Lost Illusions," to the literature of English. — San Francisco Wave. Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. BALZAC IN ENGLISH. THE BROTHERHOOD OF CONSOLATION. (L'ENVERS DE L'HISTOIRE CON7EMPORAINE.) By HONORE DE BALZAC. t. Madame de la Chanterie. 2. The Initiate. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. There is no book of Balzac which is informed by a loftier spirit than " L'Envers de l'Histoire Contemporaine," which has just been added by Miss Wormeley to her admirable series of translations under the title, " The Brother- hood of Consolation." The title which is given to the translation is, to our thinking, a happier one than that which the work bears in the original, since, after all, the political and historical portions of the book are only the background of the other and more absorbing theme, — the development of the brotherhood over which Madame de la Chanterie presided. It is true that there is about it all something theatrical, something which shows the French taste for making godli- ness itself histrionically effective, that quality of mind which would lead a Parisian to criticise the coming of the judgment angels if their entrance were not happily arranged and properly executed ; but in spite of this there is an elevation such as it is rare to meet with in literature, and especially in the literature of Balzac's age and land. The story is admirably told, and the figure of the Baron Bourlac is really noble in its martyrdom of self-denial and heroic patience. The picture of the Jewish doctor is a most characteristic piece of work, and shows Balzac's intimate touch in every line. Balzac was always attracted by the mystical side of the physical nature ; and it might almost be said that everything that savored of mystery, even though it ran obviously into quackery, had a strong attraction for him. He pictures Halpersohn with a few strokes, but his picture of him has a striking vitality and reality. The volume is a valuable and attractive addition to the series to which it belongs ; and the series comes as near to fulfilling the ideal of what translations should be as is often granted to earthly things. — Boston Courier. The book, which is one of rare charm, is one of the most refined, while at the same time tragic, of all his works. — Public Opinion. His present work is a fiction beautiful in its conception, just one of those practical ideals which Balzac nourished and believed in. There never was greater homage than he pays to the book of books, "The Imitation of Jesus Christ." Miss Wormeley has here accomplished her work just as cleverly as in her other volumes of Balzac. —N. Y. Times. Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. Messrs. Roberts Brothers Publications. 25al3ac in <£ngii£f)* THE VILLAGE RECTOR. By Honore de Balzac. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, #1.50. Once more that wonderful acquaintance which Balzac had with all callings appears manifest in this work. Would you get to the bottom of the engineer's occupation in France? Balzac presents it in the whole system, with its aspects, disadvantages, and the excellence of the work accomplished. We write to-day of irrigation and of arboriculture as if they were novelties ; yet in the waste lands of Montagnac, Balzac found these topics ; and what he wrote is the clearest exposition of the subjects. But, above all, in "The Village Rector" is found the most potent of religious ideas, — the one that God grants pardon to sinners. Balzac had studied and appreciated the intensely human side of Catholicism and its adaptiveness to the wants of mankind. It is religion, with Balzac, " that opens to us an inexhaustible treasure of indulgence." It is true repentance that saves. The drama which is unrolled in "The Village Rector " is a terrible one, and perhaps repugnant to our sensitive minds. The selection of such a plot, pitiless as it is, Balzac made so as to present the darkest side of human nature, and to show how, through God's pity, a soul might be saved. The instrument of mercy is the Rector Bonnet, and in the chapter entitled " The Rector at Work" he shows how religion " extends a man's life beyond the world." It is not sufficient to weep and moan. "That is but the beginning; the end is action." The rector urges the woman whose sins are great to devote what remains of her life to work for the benefit of her brothers and sisters, and so she sets about reclaim- ing the waste lands which surround her chateau. With a talent of a superlative order, which gives grace to Veronique, she is like the Madonna of some old panel of Van Eyck's. Doing penance, she wears close to her tender skin a haircloth vestment. For love of her, a man has committed murder and died and kept his secret. In her youth, Veronique's face had been pitted, but her saintly life had obliterated that spotted mantle of smallpox. Tears had washed out every blemish. If through true repentance a soul was ever saved, it was Veronique's. This work, too, has afforded consolation to many miserable sinners, and showed them the way to grace. The present translation is to be cited for its wonderful accuracy and its literary distinction. We can hardly think of a more difficult task than the Englishing of Balzac, and a general reading public should be grateful for the admirable manner in which Miss Wormeley has performed her task. — New York Times. Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 2M?ac in <£tt0ligf). Memoirs of Two Young Married Women. By Honore de Balzac. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 12 mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. " There are," says Henry James in one of his essays, "two writers in Balzac, — the spontaneous one and the reflective one, the former of which is much the more delightful, while the latter is the more extraordi- nary." It is the reflective Balzac, the Balzac with a theory, whom we get in the "Deux Jeunes Mariees," now translated by Miss Wormeley under the title of " Memoirs of Two Young Married Women." The theory of Balzac is that the marriage of convenience, properly regarded, is far preferable to the marriage simply from love, and he undertakes to prove this proposition by contrasting the careers of two young girls who have been fellow-students at a convent. One of them, the ardent and passionate Louise de Chaulieu, has an intrigue with a Spanish refugee, finally marries him, kills him, as she herself confesses, by her perpetual jealousy and exaction, mourns his loss bitterly, then marries a golden- haired youth, lives with him in a dream of ecstasy for a year or so, and this time kills herself through jealousy wrongfully inspired. As for her friend, Ren6e de Maucombe, she dutifully makes a marriage to please her parents, calculates coolly beforehand how many children she will have and how they shall be trained; insists, however, that the marriage shall be merely a civil contract till she and her husband find that their hearts are indeed one; and sees all her brightest visions realized, — her Louis an ambitious man for her sake and her children truly adorable creatures. The story, which is told in the form of letters, fairly scintillates with brilliant sayings, and is filled with eloquent discourses concerning the nature of love, conjugal and otherwise. Louise and Ren6e are both extremely sophisticated young women, even in their teens ; and those who expect to find in their letters the demure innocence of the Anglo- Saxon type will be somewhat astonished. The translation, under the circumstances, was rather a daring attempt, but it has been most felicit- ously done. — The Beacon. Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. Mass. TH/P 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewals only: Tel. No. 642-3405 Renewals may be made 4 days prior to date due. m0 Renewed books are subject to immediatAldbau *} ttCBlfl WU4 ■ft LD21A-40m-3,'72 (Q1173sl0)476-A-32 General Library University of California Berkeley ■•»... , 96254 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY -M* 'MM .^■.^•^V ]p* • -