Monsieur Gu ilia nine Photogravure From Drawing by W. Boucher Illustrated Sterling edition At the Sign of the Cat and Racket A Bachelor's Establishment AND OTHER STORIES BY HONORE de BALZAC With Introductions by GEORGE SAINTSBURY BOSTON DANA ESTES & COMPANY P U 15 L I S H E R S COPYRIGHTED 1901 JOHN D. AVI L A U Rights Reserved CONTENTS PART 1 PAGE INTRODUCTION ...... ix AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET- - I (La Mais en du Chat-qui-Pelote) THE BALL AT SCEAUX 61 (Le Bal de Syeaux) THE PURSE - -123 {La Bourse) MADAME FIRMIANI 157 (Mnte. Firmiant) THE CELIBATES I PIERRETTE - - - 179 (Pierrette) THE CELIBATES-!/ THE VICAR OF TOURS (Le Curl de Tours) VOL. 41 iy CONTENTS PART II INTRODUCTION - THE CELIBATES III A BACHELOR'S ESTABLISHMENT ( Un Menage de garym) HONORINE - - 299 (Honorine) (Translator, CLARA BELL ) AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET THE CELIBATES, AND OTHER STORIES INTRODUCTION IN the very interesting preface, dated July 1842, which Bal- zac prefixed to the first collection of the Comedie Humaine, he endeavors, naturally enough, to represent the division into Scenes de la Vie Parisienne, etc., as a rational and reasoned one. Although not quite arbitrary, it was of course to a great extent determined by considerations which were not those of design; and we did not require the positive testi- mony which we find in the Letters to tell us that in the author's view, as well as in our own, not a few of the stories might have been shifted over from one division to another, and have filled their place just as well in the other as in the one. La Maison du Chat-qui-Pelote, however, which originally bore the much less happy title of "Gloire et Malheur," was a Scene de la Vie Privee from the first, and it bears out better than some of its companions its author's expressed intention of making these "scenes" represent youth, whether Parisian or Provincial. Few of Balzac's stories have united the gen- eral suffrage for touching grace more than this; and there are few better examples of his minute Dutch-painting than the opening passages, or of his unconquerable delight in the details of business than his sketch of Monsieur Guillaume's establishment and its ways. The French equivalent of the "Complete Tradesman" of Defoe lasted much longer than his English counterpart; but, except in the smaller provincial towns, he is said to be uncommon now. As for the plot, if (fa) such a stately name can be given to so delicate a sketch, it is of course open to downright British judgment to pronounce the self-sacrifice of Lebas more ignoble than touching, the conduct of Theodore too childish to deserve the excuses some- times possible for passionate inconstancy, and the character of Augustine angelically idiotic. This last outrage, if it were committed, would indeed only be an instance of the irrecon- cilable difference which almost to the present day divides English and French ideas of ideally perfect girlhood, and of that state of womanhood which corresponds thereto. . The candeur adorable which the Frenchman adores and exhibits in the girl; the uncompromising, though mortal, passion of the woman; are too different from any ideal that we have en- tertained-, except for a very short period in the eighteenth century. But there are few more pathetic and charming im- personations of this other ideal than Augustine de Sommer- vieux. All the stories associated with La Maison du Chat-qui- Pelote, according to French standards all, perhaps, accord- ing to all but the very strictest and oldest-fashioned of Eng- lish are perfectly free from the slightest objection on the score of that propriety against which Balzac has an amusing if not quite exact tirade in one of his books. And this is evidently not accidental, for the preface above referred to is an elaborate attempt to rebut the charge of impropriety, and to show that the author could draw virtuous as well as unvirtuous characters. But they are not, taking them as a whole, and omitting the "Cat and Eacket" itself, quite ex- amples of putting the best foot foremost. Le Bal de Sceaux, with its satire on contempt for trade, is in some ways more like Balzac's young friend and pupil Charles de Bernard than like himself; and I believe it attracted English notice INTRODUCTION xi pretty early. At least I seem, when quite a boy, and long before I read the Comedie Humaine, to have seen an English version or paraphrase of it. La Bourse, though agreeable, is a little slight. I should rank Madame Firmiani a good deal higher than these two, though it also is a little slight, and though it is not in Balzac's most characteristic or important manner. Bather, perhaps, does it remind us of the "Physiolo- gies" and the other social "skits" and sketches which he was writing for the Caricature and other papers at the time. Still, the various descriptions of the heroine have a point and sparkle which are almost peculiar to the not quite mature work of men of genius; and the actual story has a lightness which, perhaps, would have disappeared if Balzac had handled it at greater length. As for bibliography, La Maison du Chat-qui-Pelote, under the title above referred to, saw the light first with other Scenes de la Vie Privee in 1830. But it was not dated as of the previous year till five years later, in its third edition; while the title was not changed till the great collection itself. Of its companions, Le Bal de Sceaux was an original one, and seems to have been written as well as published more or less at the same time. It at first had an alternative title, Ou le Pair de France, which was afterwards dropped. La Bourse was early, but not quite so early as these. It appeared in, and was apparently written for, the second edi- tion of the Scenes de la Vie Privee, published in May 1832. In 1835 it was moved over to the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne, between which and the Vie Privee there is in fact a good deal of cross and arbitrary division. But when the full Comedie took shape it moved back again. La Vendetta, which be- longs with this group of stories, has been reserved for a later volume, xii INTRODUCTION Madame Firmiani was first published in the Revue de Paris for February 1832 ; then became a Conte Philosophique, and still in the same year a Scene de la Vie Parisienne. It was in the 1842 collection that it took up its abode in the Scenes de la Vie Privee. Les Gelibataires, the longest number of the original Comedie under a single title, next to Illusions perdues, is not, like that book, connected by any unity of story. Indeed, the general bond of union is pretty weak ; and though it is quite true that bachelors and old maids are the heroes and heroines of all three, it would be rather hard to establish any other bond of connection, and it is rather unlikely that any one unprompted would fix on this as a sufficient ground of partnership. Two at least of the component parts, however, are of very high excellence. I do not myself think that Pierrette, which opens the series, is quite the equal of its companions. Written, as it was, for Countess Anna de Hanska, Balzac's step-daughter of the future, while she was still very young, it partakes necessarily of the rather elaborate artificiality of all attempts to suit the young person, of French attempts in par- ticular, and it may perhaps be said of Balzac's attempts most of all. It belongs, in a way, to the Arcis series the series which also includes the fine Tenebreuse Affaire and the un- finished Depute d'Arcis but is not very closely connected therewith. The picture of the actual Celibataires, the brother and sister Eogron, with which it opens, is in one of Balzac's best-known styles, and is executed with all his usual mastery both of the minute and of the at least partially repulsive, show- ing also that strange knowledge of the bourgeois de Paris which, somehow or other, he seems to have attained by dint of INTRODUCTION , sill unknown foregatherings in his ten years of apprenticeship. But when we come to Pierrette herself, the story is, I think, rather less satisfying. Her persecutions and her end, and the devotion of the faithful Brigaut and the rest, are pathetic no doubt, but tend (I hope it is not heartless to say it) just a very little towards sensiblerie. The fact is that the thing is not quite in Balzac's line. The other and shorter constituent of the book, Le Cure de Tours, is certainly on a higher level, and has attracted the most magnificent eulogies from some of the novelist's ad- mirers. I think both Mr. Henry James and Mr. Wedmore have singled out this little piece for detailed and elaborate praise, and there is no doubt that it is a happy example of a kind in which the author excelled. The opening, with its evi- dent but not obtruded remembrance of the old and well- founded superstition derived from the universal belief in some form of Nemesis that an extraordinary sense of happi- ness, good luck, or anything of the kind, is a precursor of mis- fortune, and calls for some instant act of sacrifice or humilia- tion, is very striking; and the working out of the vengeance of the goddess by the very ungoddess-like though feminine hand of Mademoiselle Gamard has much that is commend- able. Nothing in its well exampled kind is better touched off than the Listomere coterie, from the shrewdness of Mon- sieur de Bourbonne to the selfishness of Madame de Listo- mere. 1 do not know that the old maid herself cat, and far worse than cat as she is is at all exaggerated, and the sketch of the coveted appartement and its ill-fated mobilier is about as good as it can be. And the battle between Madame de Listomere and the Abbe Troubert, which has served as a model for many similar things, has, if it has often been equaled, not often been surpassed. xlv INTRODUCTION I cannot, however, help thinking that there is more than a little exaggeration in more than one point of the story. The Abbe Birotteau is surely a little too much of a fool; the Abbe Troubert an lago a little too much wanting in verisi- militude; and the central incident of the clause about the furniture too manifestly improbable. Taking the first and the last points together, is it likely that any one not quite an idiot should, in the first place, remain so entirely ignorant of the value of his property; should, in the second, though, ignorant or not, he attached the greatest possible pretium affectionis to it, contract to resign it for such a ridiculous con- sideration ; and should, in the third, take the fatal step with- out so much as remembering the condition attached thereto? If it be answered that Birotteau was idiot enough to do such a thing, then it must be observed further that one's sympathy is frozen by the fact. Such a man deserved such treatment. And, again, even if French justice was, and perhaps is, as much influenced by secret considerations as Balzac loves to represent it, we must agree with that member of the Listo- mere society who pointed out that no tribunal could possibly uphold such an obviously iniquitous bargain. As for Trou- bert, the idea of the Jesuitical ecclesiastic (though Balzac was not personally hostile to the Jesuits) was a common one at the time, and no doubt popular, but the actual personage seems to me nearer to Eugene Sue's Rodin in some ways than I could have desired. These things, however, are very much a case of "As You Like It" or "As It Strikes You," and I have said that Le Cure de Tours strikes some good judges as of exceptional merit, while no one can refuse it merit in a high degree. I should not, except for the opening, place it in the very highest class of the Comedie, but it is high beyond all doubt in the second. INTRODUCTION xv Pierrette, which was earlier called Pierrette Lorrain, was issued in 1840, first in the Siecle, and then in volume form, published by Souverain. In both issues it had nine chapter or book divisions with headings. With the other Celibataires it entered the Comedie as a Scene de la Vie de Province in 1843. Le Cure de Tours (which Balzac had at one time intended to call by the name of the Cure's enemy, and which at first was simply called by the general title Les Celibataires} is much older than its companions, and appeared in 1832 in the Scenes de la Vie Privee. It was soon properly shifted to the Vie de Province, and as such in due time joined the Comedie bearing its present title. G-. S. [The third part of Les Celibataires, not being connected with the others, is included in a separate volume, under its own title of Un Menage de gar$onJ\ AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET Dedicated to Mademoiselle Marie de Montheau HALF-WAY down the Eue Saint-Denis, almost at the corner of the Rue du Petit-Lion, there stood formerly one of those delightful houses which enable historians to reconstruct old Paris by analogy. The threatening walls of this tumbledown abode seemed to have been decorated with hieroglyphics. For what other name could the passer-by give to the Xs and Vs which the horizontal or diagonal timbers traced on the front, outlined by little parallel cracks in the plaster? It was evi- dent that every beam quivered in its mortices at the passing of the lightest vehicle. This venerable structure was crowned by a triangular roof of which no example will, ere long, be seen in Paris. This covering, warped by the ex- tremes of the Paris climate, projected three feet over the roadway, as much to protect the threshold from the rainfall as to shelter the wall of a loft and its sill-less dormer-window. This upper story was built of planks, overlapping each other like slates, in order, no doubt, not to overweight the frail house. One rainy morning in the month of March, a young man, carefully wrapped in his cloak, stood under the awning of a shop opposite this old house, which he was studying with the enthusiasm of an antiquary. In point of fact, this relic of the civic life of the sixteenth century offered more than one problem to the consideration of an observer. Each story presented some singularity; on the first floor four tall, narrow windows, close together, were filled as to the lower panes with boards, so as to produce the doubtful light by which a clever salesman can ascribe to his goods the color (I) 2 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET Ms customers inquire for. The young man seemed very scornful of this part of the house; his eyes had not yet rested on it. The windows of the second floor, where the Venetian blinds were drawn up, revealing little dingy muslin curtains behind the large Bohemian glass panes, did not in- terest him either. His attention was attracted to the third floor, to the modest sash-frames of wood, so clumsily wrought that they might have found a place in the Museum of Arts and Crafts to illustrate the early efforts of French carpentry. These windows were glazed with small squares of glass so green that, but for his good eyes, the young man could not have seen the blue-checked cotton curtains which screened the mysteries of the room from profane eyes. Now and then the watcher, weary of his fruitless contemplation, or of the silence in which the house was buried, like the whole neigh- borhood, dropped his eyes towards the lower regions. An in- voluntary smile parted his lips each time he looked at the shop," where, in fact, there were some laughable details. A formidable wooden beam, resting on four pillars, which appeared to have bent under the weight of the decrepit house, had been encrusted with as many coats of different paint as there are of rouge on an old duchess' cheek. In the middle of this broad and fantastically carved joist there was an old painting representing a cat playing rackets. This picture was what moved the young man to mirth. But it must be said that the wittiest of modern painters could not invent so comical a caricature. The animal held in one of its fore- paws a racket as big as itself, and stood on its hind legs to aim at hitting an enormous ball, returned by a man in a fine embroidered coat. Drawing, color, and accessories, all were treated in such a way as to suggest that the artist had meant to make game of the shop-owner and of the passing observer. Time, while impairing this artless painting, had made it yet more grotesque by introducing some uncertain features which must have puzzled the conscientious idler. For instance, the cat's tail had been eaten into in such a way that it might now have been taken for the figure of a spectator so long, AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 3 and thick, and furry were the tails of our forefathers' cats. To the right of the picture, on an azure field which ill-dis- guised the decay of the wood, might be read the name "Guillaume," and to the left, "Successor to Master Chevrel." Sun and rain had worn away most of the gilding parsi- moniously applied to the letters of this superscription, in which the Us and Vs had changed places in obedience to the laws of old-world orthography. To quench the pride of those who believe that the world is growing cleverer day by day, and that modern humbug surpasses everything, it may be observed that these signs, of which the origin seems so whimsical to many Paris merchants, are the dead pictures of once living pictures by which our roguish ancestors contrived to tempt customers into their houses. Thus the Spinning Sow, the Green Monkey, and others, were animals in cages whose skill astonished the passer-by, and whose accomplishments prove the patience of the fifteenth-century artisan. Such curiosities did more to enrich their fortunate owners than the signs of "Providence," "Good-faith," "Grace of God," and "Decapitation of John the Baptist," which may still be seen in the Rue Saint-Denis. However, our stranger was certainly not standing there to admire the cat, which a minute's attention sufficed to stamp on his memory. The young man himself had his peculiarities. His cloak, folded after the manner of an antique drapery, showed a smart pair of shoes, all the more remarkable in the midst of the Paris mud, because he wore white silk stockings, on which the splashes betrayed his impatience. He had just come, no doubt, from a wedding or a ball; for at this early hour he had in his hand a pair of white gloves, and his black hair, now out of curl, and flowing over his shoulders, showed that it had been dressed a la Caracalla, a fashion in- troduced as much by David's school of painting as by the mania for Greek and Roman styles which characterized the early years of this century. In spite of the noise made by a few market gardeners, who, being late, rattled past towards the great market-place at a 4 AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET gallop, the busy street lay in a stillness of which the magi' 1 , charm is known only to those who have wandered through deserted Paris at the hours when its roar, hushed for a mo- ment, rises and spreads in the distance like the great voice of the sea. This strange young man must have seemed as curious to the shopkeeping folk of the "Cat and Eacket" as the "Cat and Eacket" was to him. A dazzlingly white cravat made his anxious face look even paler than it really was. The fire that flashed in his black eyes, gloomy and sparkling by turns, was in harmony with the singular outline of his features, with his wide, flexible mouth, hardened into a smile. His forehead, knit with violent annoyance, had a stamp of doom. Is not the forehead the most prophetic feature of a man? When the stranger's brow expressed passion the fur- rows formed in it were terrible in their strength and energy; but when he recovered his calmness, so easily upset, it beamed with a luminous grace which gave great attractiveness to a countenance in which joy, grief, love, anger, or scorn blazed out so contagiously that the coldest man could not fail to be impressed. He was so thoroughly vexed by the time when the dormer- window of the loft was suddenly flung open, that he did not observe the apparition of three laughing faces, pink and white and chubby, but as vulgar as the face of Commerce as it is seen in sculpture on certain monuments. These three faces, framed by the window, recalled the puffy cherubs floating among the clouds that surround God the Father. The apprentices snuffed up the exhalations of the street with an eagerness that showed how hot and poisonous the atmos- phere of their garret must be. After pointing to the singular sentinel, the most jovial, as he seemed, of the apprentices retired and came back holding an instrument whose hard metal pipe is now superseded by a leather tube ; and they ail grinned with mischief as they looked down on the loiterer, and sprinkled him with a fine white shower of which the scent proved that three chins had just been shaved. Stand- ing on tiptoe, in the farthest corner of their loft, to enjoy AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 5 their victim's rage, the lads ceased laughing on seeing the haughty indifference with which the young man shook his cloak, and the intense contempt expressed by his face as he glanced up at the empty window-frame. At this moment a slender white hand threw up the lower half of one of the clumsy windows on the third floor by the aid of the sash runners, of which the pulley so often suddenly gives way and releases the heavy panes it ought to hold up. The watcher was then rewarded for his long waiting. The face of a young girl appeared, as fresh as one of the white cups that bloom on the bosom of the waters, crowned by a frill of tumbled muslin, which gave her head a look of ex- quisite innocence. Though wrapped in brown stuff, her neck and shoulders gleamed here and there through little open- ings left by her movements in sleep. No expression of em- barrassment detracted from the candor of her face, or the calm look of eyes immortalized long since in the sublime works of Raphael ; here were the same grace, the same repose as in these Virgins, and now proverbial. There was a de- lightful contrast between the cheeks of that face on which sleep had, as it were, given high relief to a superabundance of life, and the antiquity of the heavy window with its clumsy shape and black sill. Like those day-blowing flowers, which in the early morning have not yet unfurled their cups, twisted by the chills of night, the girl, as yet hardly awake, let her blue eyes wander beyond the neighboring roofs to look at the sky; then, from habit, she cast them down on the gloomy depths of the street, where they immediately met those of her adorer. Vanity, no doubt, distressed her at being seen in undress ; she started back, the worn pulley gave way, and the sash fell with the rapid run, which in our day has earned for this artless invention of our forefathers an odious name.* The vision had disappeared. To the young man the most radiant star of morning seemed to be hidden by a cloud. During these little incidents the heavy inside shutters that protected the slight windows of the shop of the "Cat and * FenMre a la Quillotine. 6 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET Racket" had been removed as if by magic. The old dooi with its knocker was opened back against the wall of the entry by a man-servant, apparently coeval with the sign, who, with a shaking hand, hung upon it a square of cloth, on which were embroidered in yellow silk the words : "Guillaume, suc- cessor to Chevrel." Many a passer-by would have found it difficult to guess the class of trade carried on by Monsieur Guillaume. Between the strong iron bars which protected his shop windows on the outside, certain packages, wrapped in brown linen, were hardly visible, though as numerous as herrings swimming in a shoal. Notwithstanding the primi- tive aspect of the Gothic front, Monsieur Guillaume, of all the merchant clothiers in Paris, was the one whose stores were always the best provided, whose connections were the most extensive, and whose commercial honesty never lay under the slightest suspicion. If some of his brethren in business made a contract with the Government, and had not the re- quired quantity of cloth, he was always ready to deliver it, however large the number of pieces tendered for. The wily dealer knew a thousand ways of extracting the largest profits without being obliged, like them, to court patrons, cringing to them, or making them costly presents. When his fellow- tradesmen could only pay in good bills of long date, he would mention his notary as an accommodating man, and managed to get a second profit out of the bargain, thanks to this ar- rangement, which had made it a proverb among the traders of the Eue Saint-Denis: "Heaven preserve you from Mon- sieur Guillaume's notary !" to signify a heavy discount. The old merchant was to be seen standing on the threshold of his shop, as if by a miracle, the instant the servant with- drew. Monsieur Guillaume looked at the Eue Saint-Denis, at the neighboring shops, and at the weather, like a man disembarking at Havre, and seeing France once more after a long voyage. Having convinced himself that nothing had changed while he was asleep, he presently perceived the stranger on guard, and he, on his part, gazed at the pa- triarchal draper as Humboldt may have scrutinized the AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET 7 first electric eel he saw in America. Monsieur Guillaume wore loose black velvet breeches, pepper-and-salt stockings, and square-toed shoes with silver buckles. His coat, with square-cut fronts, square-cut tails, and square-cut collar, clothed his slightly bent figure in greenish cloth, finished with white metal buttons, tawny from wear. His gray hair was so accurately combed and flattened over his yellow pate that it made it look like a furrowed field. His little green eyes, that might have been pierced with a gimlet, flashed beneath arches faintly tinged with red in the place of eyebrows. Anxieties had wrinkled his forehead with as many horizontal lines as there were creases in his coat. This colorless face expressed patience, commercial shrewdness, and the sort of wily cupidity which is needful in business. At that time these old families were less rare than they are now, in which the characteristic habits* and costume of their calling, sur- viving in the midst of more recent civilization, were preserved as cherished traditions, like the antediluvian remains found by Cuvier in the quarries. The head of the Guillaume family was a notable upholder of ancient practices ; he might be heard to regret the Provost of Merchants, and never did he mention a decision of the Tribunal of Commerce without calling it the Sentence of the Consuls. Up and dressed the first of the household, in obe- dience, no doubt, to these old customs, he stood sternly await- ing the appearance of his three assistants, ready to scold them in case they were late. These young disciples of Mercury knew nothing more terrible than the wordless assiduity with which the master scrutinized their faces and their movements on Monday in search of evidence or traces of their pranks. But at this moment the old clothier paid no heed to his ap- prentices; he was absorbed in trying to divine the motive of the anxious looks which the young man in silk stock- ings and a cloak cast alternately at his signboard and into the depths of his shop. The daylight was now brighter, and enabled the stranger to discern the cashier's corner enclosed by a railing and screened by old green silk curtains, where 8 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET were kept the immense ledgers, the silent oracles of the house. The too inquisitive gazer seemed to covet this little nook, and to be taking the plan of a dining-room at one side, lighted by a skylight, whence the family at meals could easily see the smallest incident that might occur at the shop-door. So much affection for his dwelling seemed suspicious to a trader who had lived long enough to remember the law of maximum prices ; Monsieur Guillaume naturally thought that this sinister personage had an eye to the till of the Cat and Eacket. After quietly observing the mute duel which was going on between his master and the stranger, the eldest of the apprentices, having seen that the young man was stealthily watching the windows of the third floor, ventured to place himself on the stone flag where Monsieur Guillaume was standing. He took two steps out into the street, raised his head, and fancied that he caught sight of Mademoiselle Augustine Guillaume in hasty retreat. The draper, annoyed by his assistant's perspicacity, shot a side glance at him; but the draper and his amorous apprentice were suddenly relieved from the fears which the young man's presence had excited in their minds.. He hailed a hackney cab on its way to a neighboring stand, and jumped into it with an air of affected indifference. This departure was a balm to the hearts of the other two lads, who had been somewhat uneasy as to meeting the victim of their practical joke. "Well, gentlemen, what ails you that you are standing there with your arms folded?" said Monsieur Guillaume to his three neophytes. "In former days, bless you, when I was in Master Chevrel's service, I should have overhauled more than two pieces of cloth by this time." "Then it was daylight earlier," said the second assistant, whose duty this was. The old shopkeeper could not help smiling. Though two of these young fellows, who were confided to his care by thei r fathers, rich manufacturers at Louviers and at Sedan, had only to ask and to have a hundred thousand francs the day when they were old enough to settle in life, Guillaume re- AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET 9 garded it as his duty to keep them under the rod of an old- world despotism, unknown nowadays in the showy modern shops, where the apprentices expect to be rich men at thirty. He made them work like negroes. These three assistants were equal to a business which would harry ten such clerks as those whose sybaritical tastes now swell the columns of the budget. Not a sound disturbed the peace of this solemn house, where the hinges were always oiled, and where the meanest article of furniture showed the respectable cleanliness which reveals strict order and economy. The most waggish of the three youths often amused himself by writing the date of its first appearance on the Gruyere cheese which was left to their ten- der mercies at breakfast, and which it was their pleasure to leave untouched. This bit of mischief, and few others of the same stamp, would sometimes bring a smile on the face of the younger of Guillaume's daughters, the pretty maiden who has just now appeared to the bewitched man in the street. Though each of the apprentices, even the eldest, paid a round sum for his board, not one of them would have been bold enough to remain at the master's table when dessert was served. When Madame Guillaume talked of dressing the salad, the hapless youths trembled as they thought of the thrift with which her prudent hand dispensed the oil. They could never think of spending a night away from the house without having given, long before, a plausible reason for such an irregularity. Every Sunday, each in his turn, two of them accompanied the Guillaume family to mass at Saint-Leu, and to vespers. Mesdemoiselles Virginie and Augustine, simply attired in cotton print, each took the arm of an apprentice and walked in front, under the piercing eye of their mother, who closed the little family procession with her husband, accustomed by her to carry two large prayer-books, bound in black morocco. The second apprentice recyived no salary. As for the eldest, whose twelve years of perseverance and dis- cretion had initiated him into the secrets of the house, he was paid eight hundred francs a year as the reward of his labors. On certain family festivals he received as a gratuity \0 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET some little gift, to which Madame Guillaume's dry and wrinkled hand alone gave value netted purses, which she took care to stuff with cotton wool, to show off the fancy stitches, braces of the strongest make, or heavy silk stockings. Sometimes, but rarely, this prime minister was admitted to share the pleasures of the family when they went into the country, or when, after waiting for months, they made up their mind to exert the right acquired by taking a box at the theatre to command a piece which Paris had already for- gotten. As to the other assistants, the barrier of respect which formerly divided a master draper from his apprentices was so firmly established between them and the old shopkeeper, that they would have been more likely to steal a piece of cloth than to infringe this time-honored etiquette. Such reserve may now appear ridiculous ; but these old houses were a school of honesty and sound morals. The masters adopted their apprentices. The young man's linen was cared for, mended, and often replaced by the mistress.of the house. If an apprentice fell ill, he was the object of truly maternal attention. In a case of danger the master lavished his money in calling in the most celebrated physicians, for he was not answerable to their parents merely for the good conduct and training of the lads. If one of them, whose character was unimpeachable, suffered misfortune, these old tradesmen knew how to value the intelligence he had displayed, and they did not hesitate to entrust the happiness of their daughters to men whom they had long trusted with their fortunes. Guillaume was one of these men of the old school, and if he had their ridiculous side, he had all their good qualities; and Joseph Lebas, the chief assistant, an orphan without any fortune, was in his mind destined to be the husband of Vir- ginie, his elder daughter. But Joseph did not share the sym- metrical ideas of his master, who would not for an empire have given his second daughter in marriage before the elder. The unhappy assistant felt that his heart was wholly given to Mademoiselle Augustine, the younger. In order to justify AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 11 this passion, which had grown up in secret, it is necessary to inquire a little further into the springs of the absolute gov- ernment which ruled the old cloth-merchant's household. Guillaume had two daughters. The elder, Mademoiselle Virginie, was the very image of her mother. Madame Guillaume, daughter of the Sieur Chevrel, sat so upright in the stool behind her desk, that more than once she had heard some wag bet that she was a stuffed figure. Her long, thin face betrayed exaggerated piety. Devoid of attractions or of amiable manners, Madame Guillaume commonly decorated her head that of a woman near on sixty with a cap of a particular and unvarying shape, with long lappets, like that of a widow. In all the neighborhood she was known as the "portress nun." Her speech was curt, and her movements had the stiff precision of a semaphore. Her eye, with a gleam in it like a cat's, seemed to spite the world because she was so ugly. Mademoiselle Virginie, brought up, like her younger sister, under the domestic rule of her mother, had reached the age of eight-and-twenty. Youth mitigated the graceless effect which her likeness to her mother sometimes gave to her features, but maternal austerity had endowed her with two great qualities which made up for everything. She was patient and gentle. Mademoiselle Augustine,, who was but just eighteen, was not like either her father or her mother. She was one of those daughters whose total ab- sence of any physical affinity with their parents makes one believe in the adage: "God gives children." Augustine was little, or, to describe her more truly, delicately made. Full of gracious candor, a man of the world could have found no fault in the charming girl beyond a certain meanness of gesture or vulgarity of attitude, and sometimes a want of ease. Her silent and placid face was full of the transient melancholy which comes over all young girls who are too weak to dare to resist their mother's will. The two sisters, always plainly dressed, could not gratify the innate vanity of womanhood but by a luxury of cleanli- ness which became them wonderfully, and made them har- 12 AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET monize with the polished counters and the shining shelves, on which the old man-servant never left a speck of dust, and with the old-world simplicity of all they saw about them. As their style of living compelled them to find the elements of happiness in persistent work, Augustine and Virginie had hitherto always satisfied their mother, who secretly prided herself on the perfect characters of her two daugh- ters. It is easy to imagine the results of the training they had received. Brought up to a commercial life, accustomed to hear nothing but dreary arguments and calculations about trade, having studied nothing but grammar, book-keeping, a little Bible-history, and the history of France in Le Eagois, and never reading any book but those their mother would sanction, their ideas had not acquired much scope. They knew perfectly how to keep house; they were familiar with the prices of things ; they understood the difficulty of amass- ing money; they were economical, and had a great respect for the qualities that make a man of business. Although their father was rich, they were as skilled in darning as in embroidery ; their mother often talked of having them taught to cook, so that they might know how to order a dinner and scold a cook with due knowledge. They knew nothing of the pleasures of the world; and, seeing how their parents spent their exemplary lives, they very rarely suffered their eyes to wander beyond the walls of their hereditary home, which to their mother was the whole universe. The meetings to which family anniversaries gave rise filled in the future of earthly joy to them. When the great drawing-room on the second floor was to be prepared to receive company Madame Eoquin, a Demoiselle Chevrel, fifteen months younger than her cousin, and bedecked with diamonds ; young Eabourdin, employed in the Finance Office; Monsieur Cesar Birotteau, the rich per- fumer, and his wife, known as Madame Cesar; Monsieur Camusot, the richest silk mercer in the Eue des Bourdonnais, with his father-in-law, Monsieur Cardot, two or three old bankers, and some immaculate ladies the arrangements. AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 13 made necessary by the way in which everything was packed awa y the plate, the Dresden china, the candlesticks, and the glass made a variety in the monotonous lives of the three women, who came and went and exerted themselves as nuns would to receive their bishop. Then, in the evening, when all three were tired out with having wiped, rubbed, unpacked, and arranged all the gauds of the festival, as the girls helped their mother to undress, Madame Guillaurne would say to them, "Children, we have done nothing to- day." When, on very great occasions, "the portress nun" allowed dancing, restricting the games of boston, whist, and back- gammon within the limits of her bedroom, such a concession was accounted as the most unhoped felicity, and made them happier than going to the great balls, to two or three of which Guillaume would take the girls at the time of the Carnival. And once a year the worthy draper gave an entertain- ment, when he spared no expense. However rich and fash- ionable the persons invited might be, they were careful not to be absent ; for the most important houses on the exchange had recourse to the immense credit, the fortune, or the time-honored experience of Monsieur Guillaume. Still, the excellent merchant's two daughters did not benefit as much as might be supposed by the lessons the world has to offer to young spirits. At these parties, which were indeed set down in the ledger to the credit of the house, they wore dresses the shabbiness of which made them blush. Their style of dancing was not in any way remarkable, and their mother's surveillance did not allow of their holding any con- versation with their partners beyond Yes and No. Also, the law of the old sign of the Cat and Eacket commanded that they should be home by eleven o'clock, the hour when balls and fetes begin to be lively. Thus their pleasures, which seemed to conform very fairly to their father's position, were often made insipid by circumstances which were part of the family habits and principles. 14 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET As to their usual life, one remark will sufficiently paint it. Madame Guillaume required her daughters to be dressed very early in the morning, to come down every day at the same hour, and she ordered their employments with monastic regu- larity. Augustine, however, had been gifted by chance with a spirit lofty enough to feel the emptiness of such a life Her blue eyes would sometimes be raised as if to pierce the depths of that gloomy staircase and those damp store-rooms. After sounding the profound cloistral silence, she seemed to be listening to remote, inarticulate revelations of the life of passion, which accounts feelings as of higher value than things. And at such moments her cheek would flush, her idle hands would lay the muslin sewing on the polished oak counter, and presently her mother would say in a voice, of which even the softest tones were sour, "Augustine, my treas- ure, what are you thinking about?" It is possible that two romances discovered by Augustine in the cupboard of a cook Madame Guillaume had lately discharged Hippolyte Comte de Douglas and Le Comte de Comminges may have con- tributed to develop the ideas of the young girl, who had de- voured them in secret, during the long nights of the past winter. And so Augustine's expression of vague longing, her gentle voice, her jasmine skin, and her blue eyes had lighted in poor Lebas' soul a flame as ardent as it was reverent. From an easily understood caprice, Augustine felt no affection for the orphan ; perhaps because she did not know that he loved her. On the other hand, the senior apprentice, with his long legs, his chestnut hair, his big hands and powerful frame, had found a secret admirer in Mademoiselle Virginie, who, in spite of her dower of fifty thousand crowns, had as yet no suitor. Nothing could be more natural than these two pas- sions at cross-purposes, born in the silence of the dingy shop, as violets bloom in the depths of a wood. The mute and constant looks which made the young people's eyes meet by sheer need of change in the midst of persistent work and cloistered peace, was sure, sooner or later, to give rise to AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 15 feelings of love. The habit of seeing always the same face leads insensibly to our reading there the qualities of the soul, and at last effaces all its defects. "At the pace at which that man goes, our girls will soon have to go on their knees to a suitor!" said Monsieur Guil- laume to himself, as he read the first decree by which Na- poleon drew in advance on the conscript classes. From that day the old merchant, grieved at seeing his eld- est daughter fade, remembered how he had married Made- moiselle Chevrel under much the same circumstances as those of Joseph Lebas and Virginie. A good bit of business, to marry off his daughter, and discharge a sacred debt by re- paying to an orphan the benefit he had formerly received from his predecessor under similar conditions ! Joseph Lebas, who was now three-and-thirty, was aware of the ob- stacle which a difference of fifteen years placed between Au- gustine and himself. Being also too clear-sighted not to un- derstand Monsieur Guillaume's purpose, he knew his inex- orable principles well enough to feel sure that the second would never marry before the elder. So the hapless as- sistant, whose heart was as warm as his legs were long and his chest deep, suffered in silence. This was the state of affairs in the tiny republic which, in, the heart of the Eue Saint-Denis, was not unlike a de- pendency of La Trappe. But to give a full account of events as well as of feelings, it is needful to go back to some months before the scene with which this story opens. At dusk one evening, a young man passing the darkened shop of the Cat and Backet, had paused for a moment to gaze at a picture which might have arrested every painter in the world. The shop was not yet lighted, and was as a dark cave beyond which the dining-room was visible. A hanging lamp shed the yellow light which lends such charm to pictures of the Dutch school. The white linen, the silver, the cut glass, were brilliant accessories, and made more picturesque by strong contrasts of light and shade. The figures of the head of the family and his wife, the faces of the apprentices, and the 16 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET pure form of Augustine, near whom a fat chubby-cheeked maid was standing, composed so strange a group; the heads were so singular, and every face had so candid an expres- sion ; it was so easy to read the peace, the silence, the modest way of life in this family, that to an artist accustomed to render nature, there was something hopeless in any attempt to depict this scene, come upon by chance. The stranger was a young painter, who, seven years before, had gained the first prize for painting. He had now just come back from Eome. His soul, full-fed with poetry; his eyes, satiated with Raphael and Michael Angelo, thirsted for real nature after long dwelling in the pompous land where art has every- where left something grandiose. Eight or wrong, this was his personal feeling. His heart, which had long been a prey to the fire of Italian passion, craved one of those modest and meditative maidens whom in Eome he had unfortunately seen only in painting. From the enthusiasm produced in his excited fancy by the living picture before him, he naturally passed to a profound admiration for the principal figure; Augustine seemed to be pensive, and did not eat; by the ar- rangement of the lamp the light fell full on her face, and her bust seemed to move in a circle of fire, which threw up the shape of her head and illuminated it with almost super- natural effect. The artist involuntarily compared her to an exiled angel dreaming of heaven. An almost unknown emo- tion, a limpid, seething love flooded his heart. After remain- ing a minute, overwhelmed by the weight of his ideas, he tore himself from his bliss, went home, ate nothing, and could not sleep. The next day he went to his studio, and did not come out of it till he had placed on canvas the magic of the scene of which the memory had, in a sense, made him a devotee; his happiness was incomplete till he should possess a faithful portrait of his idol. He went many times past the house of the Cat and Eacket; he even ventured in once or twice, under a disguise, to get a closer view of the bewitching creature that Madame Guillaume covered with her wing. For AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 17 eight whole months, devoted to his love and to his brush, he was lost to the sight of his most intimate friends, forgetting the world, the theatre, poetry, music, and all his dearest habits. One morning Girodet broke through all the barriers with which artists are familiar, and which they know how to evade, went into his room, and woke him by asking, "What are you going to send to the Salon ?" The artist grasped his friend's hand, dragged him off to the studio, uncovered a small easel picture and a portrait. After a long and eager study of the two masterpieces, Girodet threw himself on his comrade's neck and hugged him, without speaking a word. His feelings could only be expressed as he felt them soul to soul. "You are in love ?" said Girodet. They both knew that the finest portraits by Titian, Ka- phael, and Leonardo da Vinci, were the outcome of the en- thusiastic sentiments by which, indeed, under various con- ditions, every masterpiece is engendered. The artist only bent his head in reply. "How happy are you to be able to be in love, here, -after coming back from Italy! But I do not advise you to send such works as these to the Salon," the great painter went on. "You see, these two works will not be appreciated. Such true coloring, such prodigious work, cannot yet be understood ; the public is not accustomed to such depths. The pictures we paint, my dear fellow, are mere screens. We should do better to turn rhymes, and translate the antique poets ! There is more glory to be looked for there than from our luckless can- vases !" Notwithstanding this charitable advice, the two pictures were exhibited. The Interior made- a revolution in painting. It gave birth to the pictures of genre which pour into all our exhibitions in such prodigious quantity that they might be supposed to be produced by machinery. As to the portrait, few artists have forgotten that lifelike work ; and the public, which as a body is sometimes discerning, awarded it the crown which Girodet himself had hung over it. The twc 18 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET pictures were surrounded by a vast throng. They fought for places, as women say. Speculators and moneyed men would have covered the canvas with double napoleons, but the artist obstinately refused to sell or to make replicas. An enormous sum was offered him for the right of engraving them, and the print-sellers were not more favored than the amateurs. Though these incidents occupied the world, they were not of a nature to penetrate the recesses of the monastic solitude in the Eue Saint-Denis. However, when paying a visit to Madame Guillaume, the notary's wife spoke of the exhibi- tion before Augustine, of whom she was very fond, and ex- plained its purpose. Madame Koquin's gossip naturally in- spired Augustine with a wish to see the pictures, and with courage enough to ask her cousin secretly to take her to the Louvre. Her cousin succeeded in the negotiations she opened with Madame Guillaume for permission to release the young girl for two hours from her dull labors. Augustine was thus able to make her way through the crowd to see the crowned work. A fit of trembling shook her like an aspen leaf as she recognized herself. She was terrified, and looked about her to find Madame Eoquin, from whom she had been separated by a tide of people. At that moment her frightened eyes fell on the impassioned face of the young painter. She at once recalled the figure of a loiterer whom, being curious, she had frequently observed, believing him to be a new neighbor. "You see how love has inspired me," said the artist in the timid creature's ear, and she stood in dismay at the words. She found supernatural courage to enable her to push through the crowd and join her cousin, who was still strug- gling with the mass of people that hindered her from getting to the picture. "You will be stifled !" cried Augustine. "Let us go." But there are moments, at the Salon, when two women are not always free to direct their steps through the galleries. By the irregular course to which they were compelled by the press, Mademoiselle Guillaume and her cousin were pushed AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 19 to within a few steps of the second picture. Chance thus brought them, both together, to where they could easily see the canvas made famous by fashion, for once in agreement with talent. Madame Eoquin's exclamation of surprise was lost in the hubbub and buzz of the crowd; Augustine invol- untarily shed tears at the sight of this wonderful study. Then, by an almost unaccountable impulse, she laid her' finger on her lips, as she perceived quite near her the ecstatic face of the young painter. The stranger replied by a nod, and pointed to Madame Roquin, as a spoil-sport, to show Au- gustine that he had understood. This pantomime struck the young girl like hot coals on her flesh; she felt quite guilty as she perceived that there was a compact between herself and the artist. The suffocating heat, the dazzling sight of beauti- ful dresses, the bewilderment produced in Augustine's brain by the truth of coloring, the multitude of living or painted figures, the profusion of gilt frames, gave her a sense of in- toxication which doubled her alarms. She would perhaps have fainted if an unknown rapture had not surged up in her heart to vivify her whole being, in spite of this chaos of sensations. She nevertheless believed herself to be under the power of the Devil, of whose awful snares she had been warned by the thundering words of preachers. This mo- ment was to her like a moment of madness. She found her- self accompanied to her cousin's carriage by the young man, radiant with joy and love. Augustine, a prey to an agita- tion new to her experience, an intoxication which seemed to abandon her to nature, listened to the eloquent voice of her heart, and looked again and again at the young painter, be- traying the emotion that came over her. Never had the bright rose of her cheeks shown in stronger contrast with the whiteness of her skin. The artist saw her beauty in all its bloom, her maiden modesty in all its glory. She herself felt a sort of rapture mingled with terror at thinking that her presence had brought happiness to him whose name was on every lip, and whose talent lent immortality to transient scenes. She was loved ! It was impossible to doubt it. When 20 AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET she no longer saw the artist, these simple words still echoed in her ear, "You see how love has inspired me !" And the throbs of her heart, as they grew deeper, seemed a pain, her heated blood revealed so many unknown forces in her being. She affected a severe headache to avoid replying to her cousin's questions concerning the pictures ; but on their 'return Madame Eoquin could not forbear from speaking to Madame Guillaume of the fame that had fallen on the house of the Cat and Kacket, and Augustine quaked in every limb as she heard her mother say that she should go to the Salon to see her house there. The young girl again declared herself suffering, and obtained leave to go to bed. "That is what comes of sight-seeing," exclaimed Monsieur Guillaume "a headache. And is it so very amusing to see in a picture what you can see any day in your own street? Don't talk to me of your artists ! Like writers, they are a starveling crew. Why the devil need they choose my house to flout it in their pictures?" "It may help to sell a few ells more of cloth," said Joseph Lebas. This remark did not protect art and thought from being condemned once again before the judgment-seat of trade. As may be supposed, these speeches did not infuse much hope into Augustine, who, during the night, gave herself up to the first meditations of love. The events of the day were like a dream, which it was joy to recall to her mind. She was initiated into the fears, the hopes, the remorse, all the ebb and flow of feeling which could not fail to toss a heart so simple and so timid as hers. What a void she perceived in this gloomy house ! What a treasure she found in her soul ! To be the wife of a genius, to share his glory ! What ravages must such a vision make in the heart of a girl brought up among such a family ! What hopes must it raise in a young creature who, in the midst of sordid elements, had pined for a life of elegance! A sunbeam had fallen into the prison. Augustine was suddenly in love. So many of her feelings were soothed that she succumbed without reflection. At AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 21 eighteen does not love hold a prism between the world and the eyes of a young girl? She was incapable of suspecting the hard facts which result from the union of a loving woman with a man of imagination, and she believed herself called to make him happy, not seeing any disparity between herself and him. To her the future would be as the present. When, next day, her father and mother returned from the Salon, their dejected faces proclaimed some disappointment. In the first place, the painter had removed the two pictures; and then Madame Guillaume had lost her cashmere shawl. But the news that the pictures had disappeared from the walls since her visit revealed to Augustine a delicacy of senti- ment which a woman can always appreciate, even by instinct. On the morning when, on his way home from a ball, Theo- dore de Sommervieux for this was the name which fame had stamped on Augustine's heart had been squirted on by the apprentices while awaiting the appearance of his art- less little friend, who certainly did not know that he was there, the lovers had seen each other for the fourth time only since their meeting at the Salon. The difficulties which the rule of the house placed in the way of the painter's ardent nature gave added violence to his passion for Augustine. How could he get near to a young girl seated in a counting- house between two such women as Mademoiselle Virginie and Madame Guillaume ? How could he correspond with her when her mother never left her side? Ingenious, as lovers are, to imagine woes, Theodore saw a rival in one of the assistants, to whose interests he supposed the others to be devoted. If he should evade these sons of Argus, he would yet be wrecked under the stern eyes of the old draper or of Madame Guillaume, The very vehemence of his passion hindered the young painter from hitting on the ingenious expedients which, in prisoners and in lovers, seem to be the last effort of intelligence spurred by a wild craving for lib- erty, or by the fire pf love. Theodore wandered about the neighborhood with the restlessness of a madman, as though movement might inspire him with some device. After racking 22 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET his imagination, it occurred to him to bribe the blowsy waiting-maid with gold. Thus a few notes were exchanged at long intervals during the fortnight following the ill-starred morning when Monsieur Guillaume and Theodore had so scrutinized one another. At the present moment the young couple had agreed to see each other at a certain hour of the day, and on Sunday, at Saint-Leu, during Mass and vespers. Augustine had sent her dear Theodore a list of the relations and friends of the family, to whom the young painter tried to get access, in the hope of interesting, if it were possible, in his love affairs, one of these souls absorbed in money and trade, to whom a genuine passion must appear a quite monstrous speculation, a thing unheard-of. Nothing meanwhile, was altered at the sign of the Cat and Racket. If Augustine was absent-minded, if, against all obedience to the domestic code, she stole up to her room to make signals by means of a jar of flowers, if she sighed, if she were lost in thought, no one observed it, not even her mother. This will cause some surprise to those who have entered into the spirit of the household, where an idea tainted with poetry would be in startling contrast to persons and things, where no one could venture on a gesture or a look which would not be seen and analyzed. Nothing, however, could be more natural: the quiet barque that navigated the stormy waters of the Paris Exchange, under the flag of the Cat and Eacket, was just now in the toils of one of these tempests which, returning periodi- cally, might be termed equinoctial. For the last fortnight the five men forming the crew, with Madame Guillaume and Mademoiselle Virginie, had been devoting themselves to the hard labor, known as stock-taking. Every bale was turned over, and the length verified to ascer- tain the exact value of the remnant. The ticket attached to each parcel was carefully examined to see at what time the piece had been bought. The retail price was fixed. Monsieur Guillaume, always on his feet, his pen behind his ear, was like a captain commanding the working of the ship. His sharp tones, spoken through a trap-door, to inquire into the AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 23 depths of the hold in the cellar-store, gave utterance to the barbarous formulas of trade-jargon, which find expression only in cipher. "How much H.N.Z. ?" "All sold." "What is left of Q. X.?" "Two ells." "At what price ?" "Fifty- five three." "Set down A. at three, with all of J. J., all of M. P., and what is left of V. D. 0." A hundred other in- junctions equally intelligible were spouted over the counters like verses of modern poetry, quoted by romantic spirits, to excite each other's enthusiasm for one of their poets. In the evening Guillaume, shut up with his assistant and his wife, balanced his accounts, carried on the balance, wrote to debtors in arrears, and made out bills. All three were busy over this enormous labor, of which the result could be stated on a sheet of foolscap, proving to the head of the house that there was so much to the good in hard cash, so much in goods, so much in bills and notes; that he did not owe a sou; that a hundred or two hundred thousand francs were owing to him ; that the capital had been increased; that the farmlands, the houses, or the investments were extended, or repaired, or doubled. Whence it became necessary to begin again with increased ardor, to accumulate more crown-pieces, without its ever entering the brain of these 'laborious ants to ask "To what end ?" Favored by this annual turmoil, the happy Augustine es- caped the investigations of her Argus-eyed relations. At last, one Saturday evening, the stock-taking was finished. The figures of the sum-total showed a row of O's long enough to allow Guillaume for once to relax the stern rule as to dessert which reigned throughout the year. The shrewd old draper rubbed his hands, and allowed his assistants to remain at table. The members of the crew had hardly swallowed their thimbleful of some home-made liqueur, when the rumble of a carriage was heard. The family party were going to see Cendrillon at the Varietes, while the two younger ap- prentices each received a crown of six francs, with permission to go wherever they chose, provided they were in by mid- night. 24 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET Notwithstanding this debauch, the old cloth-merchant was shaving himself at six next morning, put on his maroon- colored coat, of which the glowing lights afforded him peren- nial enjoyment, fastened a pair of gold buckles on the knee- straps of his ample satin breeches; and then, at about seven o'clock, while all were still sleeping in the house, he made his way to the little office adjoining the shop on the first floor. Daylight came in through a window, fortified by iron bars, and looking out on a small yard surrounded by such black walls that it was very like a well. The old merchant opened the iron-lined shutters, which were so familiar to him, and threw up the lower half of the sash window. The icy air of the courtyard came in to cool the hot atmosphere of the little room, full of the odor peculiar to offices. The merchant remained standing, his hand resting on the greasy arm of a large cane chair lined with morocco, of which the original hue had disappeared; he seemed to hesitate as to seating himself. He looked with affection at the double desk, where his wife's seat, opposite his own, was fitted into a little niche in the wall. He contemplated the numbered boxes, the files, the implements, the cash box objects all of immemorial origin, and fancied himself in the room with the shade of Master Chevrel. He even pulled out the high stool on which he had once sat in the presence of his de- parted master. This stool, covered with black leather, the horse-hair showing at every corner as it had long done, without, however, coming out he placed with a shaking hand on the very spot where his predecessor had put it, and then, with an emotion difficult to describe, he pulled a bell, which rang at the head of Joseph Lebas' bed. When this decisive blow had been struck, the old man, for whom, no doubt, these reminiscences wero too much, took up three or four bills of exchange, and looked at them without seeing them. Suddenly Joseph Lebas stood before him. "Sit down there," said Guillaume, pointing to the stool. AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 25 As the old master draper had never yet bid his assistant be seated in his presence, Joseph Lebas was startled. "What do you think of these notes ?" asked Guillaume. "They will never be paid." "Why?" "Well, I heard that the day before yesterday fitienne and Co. had made their payments in gold." "Oh, oh !" said the draper. "Well, one must be very ill to show one's bile. Let us speak of something else. Joseph, the stock-taking is done." "Yes, monsieur, and the dividend is one of the best you have ever made." "Do not use new-fangled words. Say the profits, Joseph. Do you know, my boy, that this result is partly owing to you ? And I do not intend to pay you a salary any longer. Madame Guillaume has suggested to me to take you into partnership. 'Guillaume and Lebas;' will not that make a good business name ? We might add, 'and Co.' to round off the firm's signa- ture." Tears rose to the eyes of Joseph Lebas, who tried to hide them. "Oh, Monsieur Guillaume, how have I deserved such kind- ness? I only do my duty. It was so much already that you should take an interest in a poor orph " He was brushing the cuff of his left sleeve with his right hand, and dared not look at the old man, who smiled as he thought that this modest young fellow no doubt needed, as he had needed once on a time, some encouragement to com-, plete his explanation. "To be sure," said Virginia's father, "you do not alto- gether deserve this favor, Joseph. You have not so much confidence in me as I have in you. (The young man looked up, quickly.) You know all the secrets of the cash-box. For the last two years I have told you of almost all my concerns. I have sent you to travel in our goods. In short, I have noth- ing on my conscience as regards you. But you you have a soft place, and you have never breathed a word of it." Jo- 26 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET seph Lebas blushed. "Ah, ha!" cried Guillaume, "so you thought you could deceive an old fox like me? When you knew that I had scented the Lecocq bankruptcy?" "What, monsieur?" replied Joseph Lebas, looking at his master as keenly as his master looked at him, "you knew that I was in love ?" "I know everything, you rascal," said the worthy and cun- ning old merchant, pulling the assistant's ear. "And I for- give you I did the same myself." "And you will give her to me ?" "Yes with fifty thousand crowns; and I will leave you as much by will, and we will start on our new career under the name of a new firm. We will do good business yet, my boy !" added the old man, getting up and flourishing his arms. "I tell you, son-in-law, there is nothing like trade. Those who ask what pleasure is to be found in it are simpletons. To be on the scent of a good bargain, to hold your own on 'Change, to watch as anxiously as at the gam- ing-table whether fitienne and Co. will fail or no, to see a regiment of Guards march past all dressed in your cloth, to trip your neighbor up honestly of course ! to make the goods cheaper than others can; then to carry out an under- taking which you have planned, which begins, grows, totters, and succeeds ! to know the workings of every house of busi- ness as well as a minister of police, so as never to make a mistake; to hold up your head in the midst of wrecks, to have friends by correspondence in every manufacturing town ; is not that a perpetual game, Joseph ? That is life, that is ! I shall die in that harness, like old Chevrel, but taking it easy now, all the same." In the heat of his eager rhetoric, old Guillaume had scarcely looked at his assistant, who was weeping copiously. "Why, Joseph,, my poor boy, what is the matter ?" "Oh, I love her so ! Monsieur Guillaume, that my heart fails me; I believe ' "Well, well, boy," said the old man, touched, "you are happier than you know, by Gad ! For she loves you. I know it." AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 27 And he blinked his little green eyes as he looked at the young man. "Mademoiselle Augustine! Mademoiselle Augustine!" ex- claimed Joseph Lebas in his rapture. He was about to rush out of the room when he felt him- self clutched by a hand of iron, and his astonished master spun him round in front of him once more. "What has Augustine to do with this matter?" he asked, in a voice which instantly froze the luckless Joseph. "Is it not she that that I love?" stammered the as- sistant. Much put out by his own want of perspicacity, Guillaume sat down again, and rested his long head in his hands to consider the perplexing situation in which he found him- self. Joseph Lebas, shamefaced and in despair, remained standing. "Joseph," the draper said with frigid dignity, "I was speaking of Virginie. Love cannot be made to order, I know. I know, too, that you can be trusted. We will for- get all this. I will not let Augustine marry before Virginie. Your interest will be ten per cent." The young man, to whom love gave I know not what power of courage and eloquence, clasped his hand, and spoke in his turn spoke for a quarter of an hour, with so much warmth and feeling, that he altered the situation. If the question had been a matter of business, the old tradesman would have had fixed principles to guide his decision; but, tossed a thou- sand miles from commerce, on the ocean of sentiment, with- out a compass, he floated, as he told himself, undecided in the face of such an unexpected event. Carried away by his fatherly kindness, he began to beat about the bush. "Deuce take it, Joseph, you must know that there are ten years between my two children. Mademoiselle Chevrel was no beauty, still she has had nothing to complain of in me. Do as I did. Come, come, don't cry. Can you be so silly? What is to be done? It can be managed perhaps. There is always some way out of a scrape. And we men are not 28 AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET always devoted Celadons to our wives you understand? Madame Guillaume is very pious. . . . Come. By Gad, boy, give your arm to Augustine this morning as we go to Mass." These were the phrases spoken at random by the old draper, and their conclusion made the lover happy. He was already thinking of a friend of his as a match for Mademoiselle Vir- ginie, as he went out of the smoky office, pressing his future father-in-law's hand, after saying with a knowing look that all would turn out for the best. "What will Madame Guillaume say to it?" was the idea that greatly troubled the worthy merchant when he found himself alone. At breakfast Madame Guillaume and Virginie, to whom the draper had not as yet confided his disappointment, cast meaning glances at Joseph Lebas, who was extremely embar- rassed. The young assistant's bashfulness commended him to his mother-in-law's good graces. The matron became so cheerful that she smiled as she looked at her husband, and allowed herself some little pleasantries of time-honored ac- ceptance in such simple families. She wondered whether Joseph or Virginie were the taller, to ask them to compare their height. This preliminary fooling brought a cloud to the master's brow, and he even made such a point of decorum that he desired Augustine to take the assistant's arm on their way to Saint-Leu. Madame Guillaume, surprised at this manly delicacy, honored her husband with a nod of approval. So the procession left the house in such order as to suggest no suspicious meaning to the neighbors. "Does it not seem to you, Mademoiselle Augustine," said the assistant, and he trembled, "that the wife of a merchant whose credit is as good as Monsieur Guillaume's, for in- stance, might enjoy herself a little more than Madame your mother does? Might wear diamonds or keep a carriage? For my part, if I were to marry, I should be glad to take all the work, and see my wife happy. I would not put her into the counting-house. In the drapery business, you see, AT THE SIGN OP THE CAT AND RACKET 29 a woman is not so necessary now as formerly. Monsieur Guillauine was quite right to act as he did and besides, his wife liked it. But so long as a woman knows how to turn her hand to the book-keeping, the correspondence, the retail business, the orders, and her housekeeping, so as not to sit idle, that is enough. At seven o'clock, when the shop is shut, I shall take my pleasures, go to the play, and into company. But you are not listening to me." "Yes, indeed, Monsieur Joseph. What do you think of painting? That is a fine calling." "Yes. I know a master house-painter, Monsieur Lourdois. He is well-to-do/' Thus conversing, the family reached the Church of Saint- Leu. There Madame Guillaume reasserted her rights, and, for the first time, placed Augustine next herself, Virginie taking her place on the fourth chair, next to Lebas. During the sermon all went well between Augustine and Theodore, who, standing behind a pillar, worshiped his Madonna with fervent devotion; but at the elevation of the Host, Madame Guillaume discovered, rather late, that her daughter Augus- tine was holding her prayer-book upside down. She was about to speak to her strongly, when, lowering her veil, she interrupted her own devotions to look in the direction where her daughter's eyes found attraction. By the help of her spectacles she saw the young artist, whose fashionable ele- gance seemed to proclaim him a cavalry officer on leave rather than a tradesman of the neighborhood. It is difficult to con- ceive of the state of violent agitation in which Madame Guil- laume found herself she, who flattered herself on having brought up her daughters to perfection on discovering in Augustine a clandestine passion of which her prudery and ignorance exaggerated the perils. She believed her daughter to be cankered to the core. "Hold your book right way up, miss," she muttered in a low voice, tremulous with wrath. She snatched away the tell-tale prayer-book and returned it with the letter-press right way up. "Do not allow your eyes to look anywhere 30 AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET but at your prayers," she added, "or I shall have something to say to you. Your father and I will talk to you after church." These words came like a thunderbolt on poor Augustine. She felt faint; but, torn between the distress she felt and the dread of causing a commotion in church, she bravely con- cealed her anguish. It was, however, easy to discern the stormy state of her soul from the trembling of her prayer- book, and the tears which dropped on every page she turned. From the furious glare shot at him by Madame Guillaume the artist saw the peril into which his love affair had fallen ; he went out, with a raging soul, determined to venture all. "Go to your room,, rniss !" said Madame Guillaume, on their return home; "we will send for you, but take care not to quit it." The conference between the husband and wife was con- ducted so secretly that at first nothing was heard of it. Virginie, however, who had tried to give her sister courage by a variety of gentle remonstrances, carried her good nature so far as to listen at the door of her mother's bedroom where the discussion was held, to catch a word or two. The first time she went down to the lower floor she heard her father exclaim, "Then, madame, do you wish to kill your daughter ?" "My poor dear !" said Virginie, in tears, "papa takes your part." "And what do they want to do to Theodore?" asked the innocent girl. Virginie, inquisitive, went down again; but this time she stayed longer; she learned that Joseph Lebas loved Augus- tine. It was written that on this memorable day, this house, generally so peaceful, should be a hell. Monsieur Guillaume brought Joseph Lebas to despair by telling him of Augus- tine's love for a stranger. Lebas, who had advised his friend to become a suitor for Mademoiselle Virginie, saw all his hopes wrecked. Mademoiselle Virginie, overcome by hearing that Joseph had, in a way, refused her, had a sick headache. The dispute that had arisen from the discussion AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET 31 between Monsieur and Madame Guillaume, when, for the third time in their lives, they had been of antagonistic opinions, had shown itself in a terrible form. Finally, at half-past four in the afternoon, Augustine, pale, trembling, and with red eyes, was haled before her father and mother. The poor child artlessly related the too brief tale of her love. Reassured by a speech from her father, who promised to listen to her in silence, she gathered courage as she pronounced to her parents the name of Theodore de Sommervieux, with a mischievous little emphasis on the aristocratic de. And yielding to the unknown charm of talking of her feelings, she was brave enough to declare with innocent decision that she loved Monsieur de Sommervieux, that she had written to him, and she added, with tears in her eyes: "To sacrifice me to another man would make me wretched." "But, Augustine, you cannot surely know what a painter is ?" cried her mother with horror. "Madame Guillaume I" said the old man, compelling her to silence. "Augustine," he went on, "artists are generally little better than beggars. They are too extravagant not to be always a bad sort. I served the late Monsieur Joseph Vernet, the late Monsieur Lekain, and the late Monsieur Noverre. Oh, if you could only know the tricks played on poor Father Chevrel by that Monsieur Noverre, by the Chev- alier de Saint- Georges, and especially by Monsieur Philidor! They are a set of rascals ; I know them well ! They all have a gab and nice manners. Ah, your Monsieur Sumer , Somm " "De Sommervieux, papa."