THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE 
 By H. DE BALZAC 
 
 scenes from provincial life 
 The Two Brothers 
 
 (UN MENAGE DE GARCON) 
 
BALZAC'S NOVELS. 
 
 Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. 
 
 Already Published: 
 PERE GORIOT. 
 DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. 
 RISE AND PALL OP CESAR BIROTTEAU. 
 EUGENIE GRANDET. 
 COUSIN PONS. 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 
 THE TWO BROTHERS. 
 THE ALKAHEST. 
 MODESTE MIGNON. 
 THE MAGIC SKIN (Peau de Chagrin). 
 COUSIN BETTE. 
 LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 BUREAUCRACY (Lea Employes). 
 SERAPHITA. 
 SONS OP THE SOIL. 
 FAME AND SORROW. 
 THE LILY OP THE VALLEY. 
 URSULA. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. 
 ALBERT SAVARUS. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 BOSTON. 
 
HONORE DE BALZAC 
 
 n 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 
 
 *THE 
 
 TWO BROTHERS 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 3 SOMERSET STREET 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 1892 
 
2/U 
 
 Copyright, 1887, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 All rights reserved, 
 
 SO* Ml 
 
 fflmbenittg $)rcss : 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 
 
^ s Vi B /^^^ SDeUtcattaiu 
 univebsit^ 
 
 TO 
 
 MONSIEUR CHARLES NODIER, 
 
 MEMBER OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY, ETC 
 
 TTERE, my dear Nodier, is a book filled with deeds 
 that are screened from the action of the laws b}^ 
 the closed doors of domestic* life ; but as to which the 
 finger of God, often called chance, supplies' the place 
 of human justice, and in which the moral is none the 
 less striking and instructive because it is pointed by 
 a scoffer. 
 
 To my mind, such deeds contain great lessons for the 
 Family and for Maternity. We shall some day realize, 
 perhaps too late, the effects produced by the diminution 
 of paternal authority. That authority, which formerly 
 ceased only at the death of the father, was the sole 
 human tribunal before which domestic crimes could be 
 arraigned; kings themselves, on special occasions, took 
 part in executing its judgments. However good and 
 tender a mother may be, she cannot fulfil the function 
 
vi Dedication. 
 
 of the patriarchal royalty any more than a woman esxxi 
 take the place of a king upon the throne. Perhaps I 
 have never drawn a picture that shows more plainly 
 how essential to European society is the indissoluble 
 marriage bond, how fatal the results of feminine weak- 
 ness, how great the dangers arising from selfish interests 
 when indulged without restraint. Ma}' a society which 
 is based solely on the power of wealth shudder as it 
 sees the impotence of law in dealing with the workings 
 of a S3 T stem which deifies success, and pardons ever}- 
 means of attaining it. May it return to the Catholic 
 religion, for the purification of its masses through the 
 inspiration of religious feelings, and by means of an 
 education other than that of a lay university. 
 
 In the "Scenes from Military Life" so many fine 
 natures, so many high and noble self-devotions will be 
 set forth, that I may here be allowed to point out the 
 depraving effect of the necessities of war upon certain 
 minds who venture to act in domestic life as if upon 
 the field of battle. 
 
 You have cast a sagacious glance over the events 
 of our own time ; its philosophy shines, in more than 
 one bitter reflection, through your elegant pages ; you 
 have appreciated, more clearly than other men, the 
 havoc wrought in the mind of our country by the ex- 
 istence of four distinct political systems. I cannot, 
 therefore, place this history under the protection of a 
 
Dedication. vii 
 
 more competent authority. Your name ma}', perhaps, 
 defend my work against the criticisms that are certain 
 to follow it, — for where is the patient who keeps silence 
 when the surgeon lifts the dressing from his wound ? 
 
 To the pleasure of dedicating this Scene to you, is 
 joined the pride I feel in thus making known your 
 friendship for one who here subscribes himself 
 
 Your sincere admirer, 
 
 De BALZAC. 
 
 Paris, November, 1842. 
 
THE TWO BROTHEES. 
 
 i. 
 
 In 1792 the townspeople of Issoudun enjoyed the 
 services of a physician named Rouget, whom the}* held 
 to be a man of consummate malignity . Were we to 
 believe certain bold tongues, he made his wife extremely 
 unhappy, although she was the most beautiful woman 
 of the neighborhood. Perhaps, indeed, she was rather 
 silly. But the prying of friends, the slander of enemies, 
 and the gossip of acquaintances, had never succeeded 
 in laying bare the interior of that household. Doctor 
 Rouget was a man of whom we say in common par- 
 lance, "He is not pleasant to deal with." Conse- 
 quently, during his lifetime, his townsmen kept silence 
 about him and treated him civilly. His wife, a demoi- 
 selle Descoings, feeble in health during her girlhood 
 (which was said to be a reason why the doctor married 
 her), gave birth to a son, and also to a daughter who 
 arrived, unexpectedly, ten years after her brother, and 
 whose birth took the husband, doctor though he were, 
 by surprise. This late-comer was named Agathe. 
 
 These little facts are so simple, so commonplace, that 
 a writer seems scarcely justified in placing them in the 
 fore-front of his history ; yet if they are not known, 
 a man of Doctor Rouget's stamp would be thought a 
 monster, an unnatural father, when, in point of fact, 
 
 1 
 
2 The Two Brothers. 
 
 he was only following out the evil tendencies which 
 many people shelter under the terrible axiom that 
 " men should have strength of character," — a mascu- 
 line phrase that has caused man} T a woman's miser}'. 
 
 The Descoings, father-in-law and mother-in-law of the 
 doctor, were commission merchants in the wool-trade, 
 and did a double business by selling for the producers 
 and buying for the manufacturers the golden fleeces of 
 Berry ; thus pocketing a commission on both sides. In 
 this wa}' they grew rich and miserly — the outcome of 
 many such lives. Descoings the son, 3-ounger brother 
 of Madame Rouget, did not like Issoudun. He went 
 to seek his fortune in Paris, where he set up as a grocer 
 in the rue Saint-Honore. That step led to his ruin. 
 But nothing could have hindered it : a grocer is drawn 
 to his business by an attracting force quite equal to the 
 repelling force which drives artists away from it. We 
 do not sufficiently study the social potentialities which 
 make up the various vocations of life. It would be 
 interesting to know what determines one man to be a 
 stationer rather than a baker ; since, in our da} T , sons are 
 not compelled to follow the calling of their fathers, as 
 they were among the Egyptians. In this instance, love 
 decided the vocation of Descoings. He said to him- 
 self, "I, too, will be a grocer!" and in the same 
 breath he said (also to himself) some other things re- 
 garding his employer, — a beautiful creature, with whom 
 he had fallen desperatety in love. Without other help 
 than patience and the trifling sum of money his father 
 and mother sent him, he married the widow of his 
 predecessor, Monsieur Bixiou. 
 
 In 1792 Descoings was thought to be doing an excel- 
 lent business. At that time, the old Descoings were 
 
The Two Brothers. 3 
 
 still living. The}' had retired from the wool-trade, 
 and were employing their capital in buying up the for- 
 feited estates, — another golden fleece! Their son-in- 
 law Doctor Rouget, who, about this time, felt pretty 
 sure that he should soon have to mourn for the death 
 of his wife, sent his daughter to Paris to the care of his 
 brother-in-law, partly to let her see the capital, but still 
 more to carry out an artful scheme of his own. Des- 
 coings had no children. Madame Descoings, twelve 
 years older than her husband, was in good health, but 
 as fat as a thrush after harvest ; and the canny Rouget 
 knew enough professionally to be certain that Monsieur 
 and Madame Descoings, contrary to the moral of fairy- 
 tales, would live happy ever after without having any 
 children. The pair might therefore become attached 
 to Agathe. 
 
 That young girl, the handsomest maiden in Issoudun, 
 did not resemble either father or mother. Her birth 
 had caused a lasting breach between Doctor Rouget 
 and his intimate friend Monsieur Lousteau, a former 
 sub-delegate who had lately removed from the town. 
 When a family expatriates itself, the natives of a place 
 as attractive as Issoudun have a right to inquire into 
 the reasons of so surprising a step. It was said b}' 
 certain sharp tongues that Doctor Rouget, a vindictive 
 man, had been heard to exclaim that Lousteau should 
 die by his hand. Uttered by a physician, this declaration 
 had the force of a cannon-ball. When the National As- 
 sembly suppressed the sub-delegates, Lousteau and his 
 family left Issoudun, and never returned there. After 
 their departure Madame Rouget spent most of her 
 time with the sister of the late sub-delegate, Madame 
 Hochon, who was the godmother of her daughter, and 
 
4 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the only person to whom she confided her griefs. The 
 little that the good town of Issondun ever really knew 
 of the beautiful Madame Rouget was told by Madame 
 Hochon, — though not until after the doctor's death. 
 
 The first words of Madame Rouget, when informed 
 by her husband that he meant to send Agathe to Paris, 
 were : "I shall never see my daughter again." 
 
 " And she was right," said the worthy Madame 
 Hochon. 
 
 After this, the poor mother grew as yellow as a 
 quince, and her appearance did not contradict the 
 tongues of those who declared that Doctor Rouget was 
 killing her by inches. The behavior of her D00D3- of a 
 son must have added to the misery of the poor woman 
 so unjustly accused. Not restrained, possibly encour- 
 aged by his father, the young fellow, who was in every- 
 way stupid, paid her neither the attentions nor the re- 
 spect which a son owes to a mother. Jean-Jacques 
 Rouget was like his father, especially on the latter's 
 worst side ; and the doctor at his best was far from 
 satisfactory, either morally or physically. 
 
 The arrival of the charming Agathe Rouget did not 
 bring happiness to her uncle Descoings ; for in the 
 same week (or rather, we should say decade, for the 
 Republic had then been proclaimed) he was imprisoned 
 on a hint from Robespierre given to Fouquier-Tinville. 
 Descoings, who was imprudent enough to think the 
 famine fictitious, had the additional foil}-, under the im- 
 pression that opinions were free, to express that opin- 
 ion to several of his male and female customers as he 
 served them in the grocery. The citoyenne Duplay, 
 wife of a cabinet-maker with whom Robespierre lodged, 
 and who looked after the household affairs of that 
 
The Two Brothers. 5 
 
 eminent citizen, patronized, unfortunately, the Des- 
 coings establishment. She considered the opinions of 
 the grocer insulting to Maximilian the First. Already 
 displeased with the manners of Descoings, this illustri- 
 ous tricoteuse of the Jacobin club regarded the beauty of 
 his wife as a kind of aristocracy. She infused a venom 
 of her own into the grocer's remarks when she re- 
 peated them to her good and gentle master, and the 
 poor man was speedily arrested on the well-worn charge 
 of " accaparation." 
 
 No sooner was he put in prison, than his wife set to 
 work to obtain his release. But the steps she took were 
 so ill-judged that any one hearing her talk to the arbi- 
 ters of his fate might have thought that she was in real- 
 ity seeking to get rid of him. Madame Descoings knew 
 Bridau, one of the secretaries of Roland, then minister 
 of the interior, — the right-hand man of all the minis- 
 ters who succeeded each other in that office. She put 
 Bridau on the war-path to save her grocer. That in- 
 corruptible official — one of the virtuous dupes who are 
 always admirably disinterested — was careful not to 
 corrupt the men on whom the fate of the poor grocer- 
 depended ; on the contraiy, he endeavored to enlighten 
 them. Enlighten people in those days ! As well might 
 he have begged them to bring back the Bourbons. The 
 Girondist minister, who was then contending against 
 Robespierre, said to his secretary, " Why do you med- 
 dle in the matter?" and all others to whom the worthy 
 Bridau appealed made the same atrocious reply : " Why 
 do you meddle ? " Bridau then sagely advised Madame 
 Descoings to keep quiet and await events. But instead 
 of conciliating Robespierre's housekeeper, she fretted 
 and fumed against that informer, and even complained 
 
8 The Two Brothers, 
 
 ing his stupidity, had latterly treated with severity, re- 
 mained a bachelor for certain reasons, the explanation 
 of which will form an important part of this history. 
 His celibacy was partly his father's fault, as we shall 
 see later. 
 
 Meantime, it is well to inquire into the results o the 
 secret vengeance the doctor took on a daughter w om 
 he did not recognize as his own, but who, you must n- 
 derstand once for all, was legitimately his. Not a p* r- 
 son in Issoudun had noticed one of those capricious 
 facts that make the whole subject of generation a vast 
 abyss in which science flounders. Agathe bore a strong 
 likeness to the mother of Doctor Rouget. Just as gout 
 is said to skip a generation and pass from grandfather 
 to grandson, resemblances not uncommonly follow the 
 same course. 
 
 In like manner, the eldest of Agathe's children, who 
 physically resembled his mother, had the moral quali- 
 ties of his grandfather, Doctor Rouget. We will leave 
 the solution of this problem to the twentieth century, 
 with a fine collection of microscopic animalculse ; our 
 descendants ma} T perhaps write as much nonsense as the 
 scientific schools of the nineteenth century have uttered 
 on this mysterious and perplexing question. 
 
 Agathe Rouget attracted the admiration of everyone 
 by a face destined, like that of Mary, the mother of our 
 Lord, to continue ever virgin, even after marriage. Her 
 portrait,' still to be seen in the atelier of Briclau, shows 
 a perfect oval and a clear whiteness of complexion, 
 without the faintest tinge of color, in spite of her golden 
 hair. More than one artist, looking at the pure brow, 
 the discreet, composed mouth, the delicate nose, the 
 small ears, the long lashes, and the dark-blue e3*es filled 
 
The Two Brothers. 9 
 
 with tenderness, — in short, at the whole countenance 
 expressive of placidity, — has asked the great artist, 
 44 Is that the copy of a Raphael? " No man ever acted 
 under a truer inspiration than the minister's secretary 
 when he married this young girl. Agathe was an em- 
 bodiment of the ideal housekeeper brought up in the 
 provinces and never parted from her mother. Pious, 
 though far from sanctimonious, she had no other educa- 
 tion than that given to women by r the Church. Judged 
 by ordinary standards, she was an accomplished wife, 
 yet her ignorance of life paved the way for great mis- 
 fortunes. The epitaph on the Roman matron, "She 
 did needlework and kept the house," gives a faithful pic- 
 ture of her simple, pure, and tranquil existence. 
 
 Under the Consulate, Bridau attached himself fanati- 
 cally to Napoleon, who placed him at the head of a de- 
 partment in the ministry of the interior in 1804, a year 
 before the death of Doctor Rouget. With a salary of 
 twelve thousand francs and very handsome emoluments, 
 Bridau was quite indifferent to the scandalous settlement 
 of the property at Issoudun, by which Agathe was de- 
 prived of her rightful inheritance. Six months before 
 Doctor Rouget's death he had sold one-half of his prop- 
 erty to his son, to whom the other half was bequeathed 
 as a gift, and also in accordance with his rights as heir. 
 An advance of fifty thousand francs on her inheri- 
 tance, made to Agathe at the time of her marriage, 
 represented her share of the property of her father and 
 and mother. 
 
 Bridau idolized the Emperor, and served him with the 
 devotion of a Mohammedan for his prophet ; striving to 
 cany out the vast conceptions of the modern demi-god, 
 who, finding the whole fabric of France destroyed, went 
 
8 The Two Brothers. 
 
 ing his stupidity, had latterly treated with severity, re- 
 mained a bachelor for certain reasons, the explanation 
 of which will form an important part of this history. 
 His celibacy was partly his father's fault, as we shall 
 see later. 
 
 Meantime, it is well to inquire into the results o the 
 secret vengeance the doctor took on a daughter w om 
 he did not recognize as his own, but who, you must n- 
 derstand once for all, was legitimately his. Not a pt r- 
 son in Issoudun had noticed one of those capricious 
 facts that make the whole subject of generation a vast 
 abyss in which science flounders. Agathe bore a strong 
 likeness to the mother of Doctor Rouget. Just as gout 
 is said to skip a generation and pass from grandfather 
 to grandson, resemblances not uncommonly follow the 
 same course. 
 
 In like manner, the eldest of Agathe's children, who 
 physically resembled his mother, had the moral quali- 
 ties of his grandfather, Doctor Rouget. We will leave 
 the solution of this problem to the twentieth century, 
 with a fine collection of microscopic animalculae ; our 
 descendants ma}' perhaps write as much nonsense as the 
 scientific schools of the nineteenth century have uttered 
 on this nrysterious and perplexing question. 
 
 Agathe Rouget attracted the admiration of everjone 
 by a face destined, like that of Mary, the mother of our 
 Lord, to continue ever virgin, even after marriage. Her 
 portrait, still to be seen in the atelier of Bridau, shows 
 a perfect oval and a clear whiteness of complexion, 
 without the faintest tinge of color, in spite of her golden 
 hair. More than one artist, looking at the pure brow, 
 the discreet, composed mouth, the delicate nose, the 
 small ears, the long lashes, and the dark-blue ej-es filled 
 
The Two Brothers. 9 
 
 with tenderness, — in short, at the whole countenance 
 expressive of placidit}', — has asked the great artist, 
 44 Is that the copy of a Raphael? " No man ever acted 
 under a truer inspiration than the minister's secretary 
 when he married this young girl. Agathe was an em- 
 bodiment of the ideal housekeeper brought up in the 
 provinces and never parted from her mother. Pious, 
 though far from sanctimonious, she had no other educa- 
 tion than that given to women b} r the Church. Judged 
 by ordinary standards, she was an accomplished wife, 
 yet her ignorance of life paved the way for great mis- 
 fortunes. The epitapli on the Roman matron, "She 
 did needlework and kept the house," gives a faithful pic- 
 ture of her simple, pure, and tranquil existence. 
 
 Under the Consulate, Bridau attached himself fanati- 
 cally to Napoleon, who placed him at the head of a de- 
 partment in the ministry of the interior in 1804, a year 
 before the death of Doctor Rouget. With a salary of 
 twelve thousand francs and very handsome emoluments, 
 Bridau was quite indifferent to the scandalous settlement 
 of the propert}' at Issoudun, by which Agathe was de- 
 prived of her rightful inheritance. Six months before 
 Doctor Rouget's death he had sold one-half of his prop- 
 erty to his son, to whom the other half was bequeathed 
 as a gift, and also in accordance with his rights as heir. 
 An advance of fifty thousand francs on her inheri- 
 tance, made to Agathe at the time of her marriage, 
 represented her share of the property of her father and 
 and mother. 
 
 Bridau idolized the Emperor, and served him with the 
 devotion of a Mohammedan for his prophet ; striving to 
 cany out the vast conceptions of the modern demi-god, 
 who, finding the whole fabric of France destroyed, went 
 
10 The Two Brothers. 
 
 to work to reconstruct everything. The new official 
 never showed fatigue, never cried " Enough." Projects, 
 reports, notes, studies, he accepted all, even the hard- 
 est labors, happy in the consciousness of aiding his 
 Emperor. He loved him as a man, he adored him as a 
 sovereign, and he would never allow the least criticism 
 of his acts or his purposes. 
 
 From 1804 to 1808, the Bridaus lived in a handsome 
 suite of rooms on the Quai Voltaire, a few steps from 
 the ministry of the interior and close to the Tuileries. 
 A cook and footman were the only servants of the house- 
 hold during this period of Madame Bridau's grandeur. 
 Agathe, early afoot, went to market with her cook. 
 While the latter did the rooms, she prepared the break- 
 fast. Bridau never went to the ministry before eleven 
 o'clock. As long as their union lasted, his wife took 
 the same unwearying pleasure in preparing for him an 
 exquisite breakfast, the only meal he really enjoyed. 
 At all seasons and in all weathers, Agathe watched her 
 husband from the window as he walked toward his 
 office, and never drew in her head until she had seen 
 him turn the corner of the rue du Bac. Then she 
 cleared the breakfast-table herself, gave an e}'e to the 
 arrangement of the rooms, dressed for the day, pla\ed 
 with her children and took them to walk, or received 
 the visits of friends ; all the while waiting in spirit for 
 Bridau's return. If her husband brought home impor- 
 tant business that had to be attended to, she would 
 station herself close to the writing-table in his study, 
 silent as a statue, knitting while he wrote, sitting up 
 as late as he did, and going to bed only a few moments 
 before him. Occasionally, the pair went to some thea- 
 tre, occupying one of the ministerial boxes. On those 
 
The Two Brothers. 11 
 
 days, the}' dined at a restaurant, and the gay scenes of 
 that establishment never ceased to give Madame Bridau 
 the same livety pleasure they afford to provincials who 
 are new to Paris. Agathe, who was obliged to accept 
 the formal dinners sometimes given to the head of a 
 department in a ministiy, paid due attention to the 
 luxurious requirements of the then mode of dress, but 
 she took off the rich apparel with delight when she re- 
 turned home, and resumed the simple garb of a provin- 
 cial. One day in the week, Thursday, Bridau received 
 his friends, and he also gave a grand ball, annually, on 
 Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 These few words contain the whole history of their 
 conjugal life, which had but three events : the births of 
 two children, born three years apart, and the death of 
 Bridau, who died in 1808, killed by overwork at the 
 very moment when the Emperor was about to appoint 
 him director-general, count, and councillor of state. At 
 this period of his reign, Napoleon was particularly ab- 
 sorbed in the affairs of the interior ; he overwhelmed 
 Bridau with work, and finally wrecked the health of 
 that dauntless bureaucrat. The Emperor, of whom 
 Bridau had never asked a favor, made inquiries into his 
 habits and fortune. Finding that this devoted servant 
 literally had nothing but his situation, Napoleon recog- 
 nized him as one of the incorruptible natures which 
 raised the character of his government and gave moral 
 weight to it, and he wished to surprise him by the gift 
 of some distinguished reward. But the effort to com- 
 plete a certain work, involving immense labor, before 
 the departure of the Emperor for Spain caused the death 
 of the devoted servant, who was seized with an inflam- 
 matory fever. When the Emperor, who remained in 
 
12 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Paris for a few days after his return to prepare for the 
 campaign of 1809, was told of Bridau's death he said : 
 w There are men who can never be replaced." Struck 
 by the spectacle of a devotion which could receive none 
 of the brilliant recognitions that reward a soldier, the 
 Emperor resolved to create an order to requite civil 
 services, just as he had already created the Legion of 
 honor to reward the militar3 T . The impression he re- 
 ceived from the death of Bridau led him to plan the 
 order of the Reunion. He had not time, however, to 
 mature this aristocratic scheme, the recollection of 
 which is now so completely effaced that man}- of my 
 readers may ask what were its insignia : the order was 
 worn with a blue ribbon. The Emperor called it the 
 Reunion, under the idea of uniting the order of the 
 Golden Fleece of Spain with the order of the Golden 
 Fleece of Austria. "Providence," said a Prussian di- 
 plomatist, " took care to frustrate the profanation." 
 
 After Bridau's death, the Emperor inquired into the 
 circumstances of his widow. Her two sons each re- 
 ceived a scholarship in the Imperial Lyceum, and the 
 Emperor paid the whole costs of their education from 
 his privy purse. He gave Madame Bridau a pension of 
 four thousand francs, intending, no doubt, to advance 
 the fortune of her sons in future years. 
 
 From the time of her marriage to the death of her 
 husband, Agathe had held no communication with Issou- 
 dun. She lost her mother just as she was on the point 
 of giving birth to her youngest son, and when her 
 father, who, as she well knew, loved her little, died, the 
 coronation of the Emperor was at hand, and that event 
 gave Bridau so much additional work that she was un- 
 willing to leave him. Her brother, Jean-Jacques Rouget, 
 
The Two Brothers. 13 
 
 had not written to her since she left Issoudun. Though 
 grieved by the tacit repudiation of her family, Agathe 
 had come to think seldom of those who never thought 
 of her. Once a year she received a letter from her 
 godmother, Madame Hochon, to whom she replied with 
 commonplaces, paying no heed to the advice which that 
 pious and excellent woman gave to her, disguised in 
 cautious words. 
 
 Some time before the death of Doctor Rouget, Ma- 
 dame Hochon had written to her goddaughter warning 
 her that she would get nothing from her father's estate 
 unless she gave a power of attorney to Monsieur Ho- 
 chon. Agathe was very reluctant to harass her brother. 
 Whether it were that Bridau thought the spoliation of 
 his wife in accordance with the laws and customs of 
 Berry, pr that, highminded as he was, he shared the 
 magnanimity of his wife, certain it is that he would not 
 listen to Roguin, his notary, who advised him to take 
 advantage of his ministerial position to contest the 
 deeds by which the father had deprived the daughter of 
 her legitimate inheritance. Husband and wife thus 
 tacitly sanctioned what was done at Issoudun. Never- 
 theless, Roguin had forced Bridau to reflect upon the 
 future interests of his wife which were thus compro- 
 mised. He saw that if he died before her, Agathe would 
 be left without property, and this led him to look into 
 his own affairs. He found that between 1793 and 1805 
 his wife and he had been obliged to use nearly thirty 
 thousand of the fifty thousand francs in cash which old 
 Rouget had given to his daughter at the time of her 
 marriage. He at once invested the remaining twenty 
 thousand in the public funds, then quoted at forty, and 
 from this source Agathe received about two thousand 
 
14 The Two Brothers. 
 
 francs a year. As a widow, Madame Bridau could live 
 suitably on an income of six thousand francs. With 
 provincial good sense, she thought of changing her resi- 
 dence, dismissing the footman, and keeping no servant 
 except a cook ; but her intimate friend, Madame Des- 
 coings, who insisted on being considered her aunt, sold 
 her own establishment and came to live with Agathe, 
 turning the study of the late Bridau into her bedroom. 
 
 The two widows clubbed their revenues, and so were 
 in possession of a joint income of twelve thousand francs 
 a 3 T ear. This seems a very simple and natural proceed- 
 ing. But nothing in life is more deserving of attention 
 than the things that are called natural ; we are on our 
 guard against the unnatural and extraordinary. For 
 this reason, you will find men of experience — lawj'ers, 
 judges, doctors, and priests — attaching immense im- 
 portance to simple matters ; and they are often thought 
 over-scrupulous. But the serpent amid flowers is one 
 of the finest myths that antiquity has bequeathed for the 
 guidance of our lives. How often we hear fools, trying 
 to excuse themselves in their own e3*es or in the eyes of 
 others, exclaiming, " It was all so natural that any 
 one would have been taken in." 
 
 In 1809, Madame Descoings, who never told her age, 
 was sixty-five. In her heyday she had been popularly 
 called a beauty, and was now one of those rare women 
 whom time respects. She owed to her excellent con- 
 stitution the privilege of preserving her good looks, 
 which, however, would not bear close examination. 
 She was of medium height, plump, and fresh, with fine 
 shoulders and a rather rosy complexion. Her blond 
 hair, bordering on chestnut, showed, in spite of her 
 husband's catastrophe, not a tinge of gray. She loved 
 
The Two Brothers. 15 
 
 good cheer, and liked to concoct nice little made dishes ; 
 vet, fond as she was of eating, she also adored the the- 
 atre and cherished a vice which she wrapped in impene- 
 trable mystery — she bought into lotteries. Can that 
 be the ^abyss of which mythology warns us under the 
 fable of the Dana'ides and their cask? Madame Des- 
 coings, like other women who are luck}- enough to keep 
 young for many years, spent rather too much upon her 
 dress ; but aside from these trifling defects she was 
 the pleasantest of women to live with. Of every one's 
 opinion, never opposing anybody, her kindly and com- 
 municative gayet}'gave pleasure to all. She had, more- 
 over, a Parisian quality which charmed the retired clerks 
 and elderly merchants of her circle, — she could take 
 and give a jest. If she did not marry a third time it 
 was no doubt the fault of the times. During the wars 
 of the Empire, marrying men found rich and handsome 
 girls too easily to trouble themselves about women of 
 sixty. 
 
 Madame Descoings, always anxious to cheer Madame 
 Bridau, often took the latter to the theatre, or to drive ; 
 prepared excellent little dinners for her delectation, and 
 even tried to marry her to her own son b\ T her first hus- 
 band, Bixiou. Alas ! to do this, she was forced to 
 reveal to Agathe a terrible secret, carefully kept by her, 
 hy her late husband, and by her notarj*. The young and 
 beautiful Madame Descoings, who passed for thirty-six 
 years old, had a son who was thirty-five, named Bixiou, 
 already a widower, a major in the Twentj'-fourth Infan- 
 tiy, who subsequently perished at Lutzen, leaving be- 
 hind him an only son. Madame Descoings, who only 
 saw her grandson secretly, gave out that he was the son. 
 of the first wife of her first husband. The revelation 
 
16 The Two Brothers. 
 
 was partly a prudential act ; for this grandson was being 
 educated with Madame Bridau's sons at the Imperial 
 Lyceum, where he had a half-scholarship. The lad, 
 who was clever and shrewd at school, soon after made 
 himself a great reputation as draughtsman and designer, 
 and also as a wit. 
 
 Agathe, who lived only for her children, declined to 
 re- many, as much from good sense as from fidelity to 
 her husband. But it is easier for a woman to be a good 
 wife than to be a good mother. A widow has two tasks 
 before her, whose duties clash : she is a mother, and yet 
 she must exercise parental authorit}'. Few women are 
 firm enough to understand and practise this double duty. 
 Thus it happened that Agathe, notwithstanding her man}' 
 virtues, was the innocent cause of great unhappiness. 
 In the first place, through her lack of intelligence and 
 the blind confidence to which such noble natures are 
 prone, Agathe fell a victim to Madame Descoings, who 
 brought a terrible misfortune on the family. That 
 worthy soul was nursing up a combination of three 
 numbers called a " trey" in a lottery, and lotteries give 
 no credit to their customers. As manager of the joint 
 household, she was able to pay up her stakes with the 
 money intended for their current expenses, and she 
 went deeper and deeper into debt, with the hope of ulti- 
 mately enriching her grandson Bixiou, her dear Agathe, 
 and the little Bridaus. When the debts amounted to 
 ten thousand francs, she increased her stakes, trusting 
 that her favorite trey, which had not turned up in nine 
 3 r ears, would come at last, and fill to overflowing the 
 abysmal deficit. 
 
 From that moment the debt rolled up rapidly. When 
 it reached twenty thousand francs, Madame Descoings 
 
The Two Brothers. 17 
 
 lost her head, still failing to win the tre}-. She tried 
 to mortgage her own property to repay her niece, but 
 Roguin, who was her notaiy, showed her the impossi- 
 bility of carrying out that honorable intention. The late 
 Doctor Rouget had laid hold of the property of his 
 brother-in-law after the grocer's execution, and had, as 
 it were, disinherited Madame Descoings by securing to 
 her a life-interest on the property* of his own son, Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget. No money-lender would think of 
 advancing twenty thousand francs to a woman sixty-six 
 years of age, on an annuity of about four thousand, at 
 a period when ten per cent could easily be got for an 
 investment. So one morning Madame Descoings fell 
 at the feet of her niece, and with sobs confessed the 
 state of things. Madame Bridau did not reproach her ; 
 she sent away the footman and cook, sold all but the 
 bare necessaries of her furniture, sold also three fourths 
 of her government funds, paid off the debts, and bade 
 farewell to her appartement. 
 
18 The Two Brothers. 
 
 II. 
 
 One of the worst corners in all Paris is undoubtedly 
 that part of the rue Mazarin which lies between the rue 
 Guenegard and its junction with the rue de Seine, be- 
 hind the palace of the Institute. The high gray walls 
 of the college and of the library which Cardinal Mazarin 
 presented to the city of Paris, and which the French 
 Academy was in after-days to inhabit, cast chill shad- 
 ows over this angle of the street, where the sun seldom 
 shines, and the north wind blows. The poor ruined 
 widow came to live on the third floor of a house stand- 
 ing at this damp, dark, cold corner. Opposite, rose the 
 Institute buildings, in which were the dens of ferocious 
 animals known to the bourgeoisie under the name of ar- 
 tist, — under that of tyro, or rajnn, in the studios. Into 
 these dens they enter rapins, but they ma}' come forth 
 prix de Borne. The transformation does not take place 
 without extraordinary uproar and disturbance at the 
 time of year when the examinations are going on, and 
 the competitors are shut up in their cells. To win a prize, 
 they were obliged, within a given time, to make, if a 
 sculptor, a cla}' model; if a painter, a picture such as 
 may be seen at the Ecole des Beaux- Arts ; if a musi- 
 cian, a cantata ; if an architect, the plans for a public 
 building. At the time when we are penning the words, 
 this menagerie has been removed from these cold and 
 cheerless buildings, and taken to the elegant Palais des 
 Beaux- Arts, which stands near by. 
 
The Two Brothers. 19 
 
 From the windows of Madame Bridau's new abode, 
 a glance could penetrate the depths of those melan- 
 choly barred cages. To the north, the view was shut 
 in 1)} T the dome of the Institute ; looking up the street, 
 the only distraction to the eye was a file of hackney- 
 coaches, which stood at the upper end of the rue Maz- 
 arin. After a while, the widow put boxes of earth in 
 front of her windows, and cultivated those/aerial gar- 
 dens that police regulations forbid, though their vegeta- 
 ble products purify the atmosphere. The house, which 
 backed up against another fronting on the rue de Seine, 
 was necessarily shallow, and the staircase wound round 
 upon itself. The third floor was the last. Three win- 
 dows to three rooms, namety, a dining-room, a small 
 salon, and a chamber on one side of the landing ; on 
 the other, a little kitchen, and two single rooms ; above, 
 an immense garret without partitions. Madame Bridau 
 chose this lodging for three reasons : economy, for it 
 cost only four hundred francs a 3*ear, so that she took 
 a lease of it for nine } T ears ; proximit} 7 to her sons' 
 school, the Imperial Lyceum being at a short distance ; 
 thirdly, because it was in the quarter to which she 
 was used. 
 
 The inside of the appartement was in keeping with the 
 general look of the house. The dining-room, hung 
 with a yellow paper covered with little green flowers, and 
 floored with tiles that were not glazed, contained noth- 
 ing that was not strictly necessa^, — namely, a table, 
 two sideboards, and six chairs, brought from the other 
 appartement. The salon was adorned with an Aubusson 
 carpet given to Bridau when the ministry of the interior 
 was refurnished. To the furniture of this room the 
 widow added one of those common mahogany sofas 
 
20 TJie Two Brothers. 
 
 with Egyptian heads that Jacob Desmalter manufactured 
 D3 7 the gross in 1806, covering them with a silken green 
 stuff bearing a design of white geometric circles. Above 
 this piece of furniture hung a portrait of Bridau, done 
 in pastel by the hand of an amateur, which at once at- 
 tracted the eye. Though art might have something to 
 say against it, no one could fail to recognize the firm- 
 ness of the noble and obscure citizen upon that brow. 
 The serenity of the eyes, gentle, 3-et proud, was well 
 given ; the sagacious mind, to which the prudent lips 
 bore testimonj', the frank smile, the atmosphere of the 
 man of whom the Emperor had said, " Justum et tena- 
 cem" had all been caught, if not with talent, at least 
 with fidelity. Studying that face, an observer could 
 see that the man had done his dut}\ His countenance 
 bore signs of the incorruptibility which we attribute to 
 several men who served the Republic. On the opposite 
 wall, over a card-table, flashed a picture of the Emperor 
 in brilliant colors, done by Vernet ; Napoleon was rid- 
 ing rapidly, attended by his escort. 
 
 Agathe had bestowed upon herself two large bird- 
 cages ; one filled with canaries, the other with Java 
 sparrows. She had given herself up to this juvenile 
 fancy since the loss of her husband, irreparable to her, 
 as, in fact, it was to many others. By the end of three 
 months, her widowed chamber had become what it was 
 destined to remain until the appointed da} T when she 
 left it forever, — a litter of confusion which words are 
 powerless to describe. Cats were domiciled on the 
 sofas. The canaries, occasionally let loose, left their 
 commas on the furniture. The poor dear woman scat- 
 tered little heaps of millet and bits of chickweed about 
 the room, and put tidbits for the cats in broken saucers. 
 
The Two Brothers. 21 
 
 Garments lay everywhere. The room breathed of the 
 provinces and of constancy. Everything that once be- 
 longed to Bridau was scrupulously preserved. Even 
 the implements in his desk received the care which the 
 widow of a paladin may have bestowed upon her hus- 
 band's armor. One slight detail will serve to bring the 
 tender devotion of this woman before the reader's mind. 
 She had wrapped up a pen and sealed the package, on 
 which she wrote these words, "Last pen used by my 
 dear husband." The cup from which he drank his last 
 draught was on the fireplace ; caps and false hair were 
 tossed, at a later period, over the glass globes which 
 covered these precious relics. After Bridau's death 
 not a trace of coquetry, not even a woman's ordinary 
 care of her person, was left in the young widow of 
 thirty-five. Parted from the only man she had known, 
 esteemed, and loved, from one who never had caused 
 her the slightest unhappiness, she was no longer con- 
 scious of her womanhood ; all things were as nothing 
 to her ; she no longer even thought of her dress. 
 Nothing was ever more simply done or more complete 
 than this laying down of conjugal happiness and per- 
 sonal charm. Some human beings obtain through love 
 the power of transferring their self — their I — to the 
 being of another ; and when death takes that otner, no 
 life of their own is possible for them. 
 
 Agathe, who now lived only for her children, was 
 infinitely sad at the thought of the privations this 
 financial ruin would bring upon them. From the time 
 of her removal to the rue Mazarin a shade of mel- 
 ancholy came upon her face, which made it very 
 touching. She hoped a little in the Emperor; but 
 the Emperor at that time could do no more than he 
 
22 The Two Brothers. 
 
 was already doing ; he was giving three hundred francs 
 a year to each child from his privy purse, besides the 
 scholarships. 
 
 As for the brilliant Descoings, she occupied an ap- 
 partement on the second floor similar to that of her niece 
 above her. She had made Madame Bridau an assign- 
 ment of three thousand francs out of her annuity. 
 Roguin, the notary, attended to this in Madame Bridau's 
 interest ; but it would take seven years of such slow 
 repayment to make good the loss. The Descoings, thus 
 reduced to an income of twelve hundred francs, lived 
 with her niece in a small waj\ These excellent but 
 timid creatures emplo3'ed a worn an-of-all- work for the 
 morning hours only. Madame Descoings, who liked to 
 cook, prepared the dinner. In the evenings a few old 
 friends, persons empkn'ed at the ministry who owed 
 their places to Bridau, came for a game of cards witli 
 the two widows. Madame Descoings still cherished her 
 trey, which she declared was obstinate about turning up. 
 She expected, b} r one grand stroke of luck, to repa}' 
 the enforced loan she had made upon her niece. She 
 was fonder of the little Bridaus than she was of her 
 grandson Bixiou, — partly from a sense of the wrong she 
 had done them, partly because she felt the kindness of 
 her niece, who, under her worst deprivations, never 
 uttered a word of reproach. So Philippe and Joseph 
 were cossetted, and the old gambler in the Imperial 
 Lottery of France (like others who have a vice or a 
 weakness to atone for) cooked them nice little dinners 
 with plent3 T of sweets. Later on, Philippe and Joseph 
 could extract from her pocket, with the utmost facil- 
 ity, small sums of money, which the younger used for 
 pencils, paper, charcoal and prints, the elder to buy 
 
The Two Brothers. 23 
 
 tennis-shoes, marbles, twine, and pocket-knives. Ma- 
 dame Descoings's passion forced her to be content with 
 fifty francs a month for her domestic expenses, so as 
 to gamble with the rest. 
 
 On the other hand, Madame Briclau, motherly love, 
 kept her expenses down to the same sum. By way 
 of penance for her former over-confidence, she heroi- 
 cally cut off her own little enjoyments. As with 
 other timid souls of limited intelligence, one shock 
 to her feelings rousing her distrust led her to exag- 
 gerate a defect in her character until it assumed the 
 consistency of a virtue. The Emperor, she said to 
 herself, might forget them ; he might die in battle ; 
 her pension, at any rate, ceased with her life. She 
 shuddered at the risk her children ran of being left 
 alone in the world without means. Quite incapable of 
 understanding Roguin when he explained to her that in 
 seven years Madame Descoings's assignment would 
 replace the mone} T she had sold out of the Funds, she 
 persisted in trusting neither the notary nor her aunt, 
 nor even the government ; she believed in nothing but 
 herself and the privations she was practising. By lay- 
 ing aside three thousand francs every }~ear from her 
 pension, she would have thirty thousand francs at the 
 end of ten years ; which would give fifteen hundred a 
 year to her children. At thirty-six, she might expect 
 to live twenty 3'ears longer; and if she kept to the 
 same system of econoni} T she might leave to each child 
 enough for the bare necessaries of life. 
 
 Thus the two widows passed from hollow opulence 
 to voluntary poverty, — one under the pressure of a 
 vice, the other through the promptings of the purest 
 virtue. None of these petty details are useless in 
 

 24 The Two Brothers. 
 
 teaching the lesson which ought to be learned from this 
 present history, drawn as it is from the most common- 
 place interests of life, but whose bearings are, it may 
 be, only the more widespread. The view from the 
 windows into the student dens ; the tumult of the 
 rapins below ; the necessity of looking up at the sky 
 to escape the miserable sights of the damp angle of the 
 street; the presence of that portrait, full of soul and 
 grandeur despite the workmanship of an amateur 
 painter ; the sight of the rich colors, now old and har- 
 monious, in that calm and placid home ; the preference 
 of the mother for her eldest child ; her opposition to 
 the tastes of the younger ; in short, the whole body of 
 facts and circumstances which make the preamble of 
 this histoiy are perhaps the generating causes to which 
 we owe Joseph Bridau, one of the greatest painters of 
 the modern French school of art. 
 
 Philippe, the elder of the two sons, was strikingly 
 like his mother. Though a blond lad, with blue eyes, 
 he had the daring look which is readily taken for 
 intrepidity and courage. Old Claparon, who entered 
 the ministry of the interior at the same time as Bridau, 
 and was one of the faithful friends who p laved whist 
 every night with the two widows, used to say of Philippe 
 two or three times a month, giving him a tap on the 
 cheek, "Here's a }'oung rascal who'll stand to his 
 guns ! " The boy, thus stimulated, naturally and out of 
 bravado, assumed a resolute manner. That turn once 
 given to his character, he became very adroit at all 
 bodily exercises ; his fights at the Lyceum taught him 
 the endurance and contempt for pain which lays the 
 foundation of military valor. He also acquired, very 
 naturally, a distaste for study ; public education being 
 
The Two Brothers. 25 
 
 unable to solve the difficult problem of developing pari 
 passu the body and the mind. 
 
 Agathe believed that the purely physical resemblance 
 which Philippe bore to her carried with it a moral 
 likeness ; and she confidently expected him to show at 
 a future day her own delicac} 7 of feeling, heightened 
 by the vigor of manhood. Philippe was fifteen years 
 old when his mother moved into the melancholy ap- 
 partement in the rue Mazarin ; and the winning ways 
 of a lad of that age went far to confirm the maternal 
 beliefs. Joseph, three j T ears j'ounger, was like his 
 father, but only on the defective side. In the first 
 place, his thick black hair was alwa} r s in disorder, no 
 matter what pains were taken with it ; while Philippe's, 
 notwithstanding his vivacity, was invariably neat. 
 Then, by some mysterious fatalu\y, Joseph could not 
 keep his clothes clean ; dress him in new clothes, and 
 he immediately made them look like old ones. The 
 elder, on the other hand, took care of his things out of 
 mere vanity. Unconsciously, the mother acquired a 
 habit of scolding Joseph and holding up his brother 
 as an example to him. Agathe did not treat the 
 two children alike ; when she went to fetch them 
 from school, the thought in her mind as to Joseph 
 always was, " What sort of state shall I find him in? " 
 These trifles drove her heart into the gulf of maternal 
 preference. 
 
 No one among the very ordinar} 7 persons who made 
 the society of the two widows — neither old Du Bruel 
 nor old Claparon, nor Desroches the father, nor even 
 the Abbe Loraux, Agathe's confessor — noticed Joseph's 
 facult3 T for observation. Absorbed in the line of his 
 own tastes, the future colorist paid no attention to 
 
26 The Two Brothers. 
 
 anything that concerned himself. During his child- 
 hood this disposition was so like torpor that his father 
 grew uneas} 7 about him. The remarkable size of the 
 head and the width of the brow roused a fear that the 
 child might be liable to water on the brain. His dis- 
 tressful face, whose originalit} 7 was thought ugliness b} r 
 those who had no eye for the moral value of a coun- 
 tenance, wore rather a sullen expression during his 
 childhood. The features, which developed later in life, 
 were pinched, and the close attention the child paid to 
 what went on about him still further contracted them. 
 Philippe flattered his mother's vanity, but Joseph won 
 no compliments. Philippe sparkled with the clever 
 sayings and lively answers that lead parents to believe 
 their bo\'s will turn out remarkable men ; Joseph was 
 taciturn, and a dreamer. The mother hoped great 
 things of Philippe, and expected nothing of Joseph. 
 
 Joseph's predilection for art was developed b}' a very 
 commonplace incident. During the Easter holidays of 
 1812, as he was coming home from a walk in the Toil- 
 eries with his brother and Madame Descoings, he saw 
 a pupil drawing a caricature of some professor on the 
 wall of the Institute, and stopped short with admiration 
 at the charcoal sketch, which was full of satire. The 
 next day the child stood at the window watching the 
 pupils as they entered the building by the door on 
 the rue Mazarin ; then he ran down stairs and slipped 
 furtivety into the long courtyard of the Institute, full 
 of statues, busts, half-finished marbles, plasters, and 
 baked clays ; at all of which he gazed feverishly, for his 
 instinct was awakened, and his vocation stirred within 
 him. He entered a room on the ground-floor, the door 
 of which was half open ; there he saw a dozen young 
 
The Two Brothers. 27 
 
 men drawing from a statue, who at once began to make 
 fun of him. 
 
 "Hi! little one," cried the first to see him, taking 
 the crumbs of his bread and scattering them at the 
 child. 
 
 "Whose child is he?" 
 
 " Goodness, how ugly ! " 
 
 For a quarter of an hour Joseph stood still and bore 
 the brunt of much teasing in the atelier of the great 
 sculptor, Chaudet. But after laughing at him for a 
 time, the pupils were struck with his persistency and 
 with the expression of his face. They asked him what 
 he wanted. Joseph answered that he wished to know 
 how to draw ; thereupon the}' all encouraged him. Won 
 b}' such friendliness, the child told thern he was Ma- 
 dame Bridau's son. 
 
 "Oh! if you are Madame Bridau's son," the} 7 cried, 
 from all parts of the room, "you will certainly be a 
 great man. Long live the son of Madame Bridau ! Is 
 your mother pretty? If you are sample of her, she 
 must be stylish ! " 
 
 "Ha! you want to be an artist?" said the eldest 
 pupil, coming up to Joseph, "but don't you know that 
 that requires pluck ; you '11 have to bear all sorts of 
 trials, — }*es, trials, — enough to break your legs and 
 arms and soul and body. All the fellows you see here 
 have gone through regular ordeals. That one, for in- 
 stance, he went seven da} T s without eating ! Let me 
 see, now, if }-ou can be an artist." 
 
 He took one of the child's arms and stretched it 
 straight up in the air ; then he placed the other arm as 
 if Joseph were in the act of delivering a blow with his 
 fist. 
 
28 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "Now that's what we call the telegraph trial," 
 said the pupil. "If 3*011 can stand like that, without 
 lowering or changing the position of 3*0111- arms for a 
 quarter of an hour, then 30U '11 have proved 3'ourself a 
 plucky one." 
 
 "Courage, little one, courage!" cried all the rest. 
 " You must suffer if you want to be an artist." 
 
 Joseph, with the good faith of his thirteen 3-ears, 
 stood motionless for five minutes, all the pupils gazing 
 solemnly at him. 
 
 " There ! you are moving," cried one. 
 
 " Steady, stead3*, confound 3*ou ! " cried another. 
 
 "The Emperor Napoleon stood a whole month as 
 you see him there," said a third, pointing to the fine 
 statue b3 T Chaudet, which was in the room. 
 
 That statue, which represents the Emperor standing 
 with the imperial sceptre in his hand, was torn down in 
 1814 from the column it surmounted so well. 
 
 At the end of ten minutes the sweat stood in drops 
 on Joseph's forehead. At that moment a bald-headed 
 little man, pale and sickly in appearance, entered the 
 atelier, where respectful silence reigned at once. 
 
 "What are you about, 3*ou urchins?" he exclaimed, 
 as he looked at the youthful martyr. 
 
 " That is a good little fellow, who is posing," said the 
 tall pupil who had placed Joseph. 
 
 "Are not you ashamed to torture a poor child in 
 that way?" said Chaudet, lowering Joseph's arms. 
 " How long have 30U been standing there?" he asked 
 the boy, giving him a friendly little pat on the cheek. 
 
 " A quarter of an hour." 
 
 " What brought you here?" 
 
 " I want to be an artist." 
 
The Two Brothers. 29 
 
 44 Where do 3*011 belong? where do you come from? " 
 
 "From mamma's house." 
 
 44 Oh ! mamma ! " cried the pupils. 
 
 " Silence at the easels ! " cried Chaudet. " Who is 
 your mamma?" 
 
 "She is Madame Bridau. My papa, who is dead, 
 was a friend of the Emperor ; and if you will teach me 
 to draw, the Emperor will pa\ r all you ask for it." 
 
 44 His father was head of a department at the ministry 
 of the interior," exclaimed Chaudet, struck b} r a recol- 
 lection. " So you want to be an artist, at your age? " 
 
 44 Yes, monsieur." 
 
 44 Well, come here just as much as you like ; we '11 
 amuse you. Give him a board, and paper, and chalks, 
 and let him alone. You are to know, you young 
 scamps, that his father did me a service. Here, Corde- 
 a-puits, go and get some cakes and sugar-plums," he 
 said to the pupil who had tortured Joseph', giving him 
 some small change. " We '11 see if you are to be artist 
 b}^ the way you gobble up the dainties," added the sculp- 
 tor, chucking Joseph under the chin. 
 
 Then he went round examining the pupils' work, fol- 
 lowed by the child, who looked and listened, and tried 
 to understand him. The sweets were brought, Chaudet 
 himself, the child, and the whole studio all had their 
 teeth in them ; and Joseph was petted quite as much as 
 he had been teased. The whole scene, in which the 
 rough play and real heart of artists were revealed, and 
 which the boy instinctively understood, made a great 
 impression upon his mind. The apparition of the sculp- 
 tor, — for whom the Emperor's protection opened a 
 wa} T to future glory, closed soon after by his premature 
 death, — was like a vision to little Joseph. The child 
 
30 The Two Brothers. 
 
 said nothing to his mother about this adventure, but he 
 spent two hours every Sunday and every Thursday in 
 Chaudet's atelier. From that time forth, Madame Des- 
 coings, who humored the fancies of the two cherubim, 
 kept Joseph supplied with pencils and red chalks, prints 
 and drawing-paper. At school, the future colorist 
 sketched his masters, drew his comrades, charcoaled 
 the dormitories, and showed surprising assiduity in the 
 drawing-class. Lemire, the drawing-master, struck not 
 only with the lad's inclination but also with his actual 
 progress, came to tell Madame Bridau of her son's fac- 
 ult} T . Agathe, like a true provincial, who knows as little 
 of art as she knows much of housekeeping, was terrified. 
 When Lemire left her, she burst into tears. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, when Madame Descoings w r ent to 
 ask what was the matter. " What is to become of me ! 
 Joseph, whom I meant to make a government clerk, 
 whose career was all marked out for him at the ministry 
 of the interior, where, protected b} r his father's memory, 
 he might have risen to be chief of a division before he 
 was twenty-five, he, my boy, he wants to be a painter, 
 — a vagabond ! I alwa3's knew that child would give 
 me nothing but trouble." 
 
 Madame Descoings confessed that for several months 
 past she had encouraged Joseph's passion, aiding and 
 abetting his Sunday and Thursday visits to the Insti- 
 tute. At the Salon, to which she had taken him, the 
 little fellow had shown an interest in the pictures, which 
 was, she declared, nothing short of miraculous. 
 
 " If he understands painting at thirteen, 1113' dear," 
 she said, "your Joseph will be a man of genius." 
 
 " Yes ; and see what genius did for his father, — 
 killed him with overwork at forty ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 31 
 
 At the close of autumn, just as Joseph was entering 
 his fourteenth year, Agathe, contrary to Madame Des- 
 coings's entreaties, went to see Chaudet, and requested 
 that he would eease to debauch her son. She found the 
 sculptor in a blue smock, modelling his last statue ; he 
 received the widow of the man who formerly had served 
 him at a critical moment, rather roughly ; but, already at 
 death's door, he was struggling with passionate ardor 
 to do in a few hours work he could hardly have accom- 
 plished in several months. As Madame Bridau entered, 
 he had just found an effect long sought for, and was 
 handling his tools and clay with spasmodic jerks and 
 movements that seemed to the ignorant Agathe like 
 those of a maniac. At any other time Chaudet would 
 have laughed ; but now, as he heard the mother bewail- 
 ing the destiny he had opened to her child, abusing art, 
 and insisting that Joseph should no longer be allowed, to 
 enter the atelier, he burst into a holy wrath. 
 
 " I was under obligations to your deceased husband ; 
 I wished to help his son, to watch his first steps in the 
 noblest of all careers," he cried. " Yes, madame, learn, 
 if you do not know it, that a great artist is a king, and 
 more than a king ; he is happier, he is independent, he 
 lives as he likes, he reigns in the world of fane}*. Your 
 son has a glorious future before him. Faculties like his 
 are rare ; the}' are only disclosed at his age in such beings 
 as the Giottos, Raphaels, Titians, Rubens, Murillos, — 
 for, in my opinion, he will make a better painter than 
 sculptor. God of heaven ! if I had such a son, I should 
 be as happy as the Emperor is to have given himself 
 the King of Rome. Well, you are mistress of your 
 child's fate. Go your own way, madame ; make him a 
 fool, a miserable quill-driver, tie him to a desk, and 
 
32 The Two Brothers. 
 
 you Ve murdered him ! But I hope, in spite of all jout 
 efforts, that he will stay an artist. A true vocation is 
 stronger than all the obstacles that can be opposed to it. 
 Vocation ! why the very word means a call ; a}> , the 
 election of God himself! You will make your child 
 unhapp3% that's all." He flung the clay he no longer 
 needed violently into a tub, and said to his model, 
 4k That will do for to-day." 
 
 Agathe raised her eyes and saw, in a corner of the 
 atelier where her glance had not before penetrated, a 
 nude woman sitting on a stool, the sight of whom drove 
 her awa} T horrified. 
 
 u You are not to have the little Bridau here any more," 
 said Chaudet to his pupils, " it annoys his mother." 
 
 " Eugh ! " they all cried, as Agathe closed the door. 
 
 No sooner did the students of sculpture and painting 
 find out that Madame Bridau did not wish her son to 
 be an artist, than their whole happiness centred on get- 
 ting Joseph among them. In spite of a promise not to 
 go to the Institute which his mother exacted from him, 
 the child often slipped into Regnauld the painter's studio, 
 where he was encouraged to daub canvas. When tbe 
 widow complained that the bargain was not kept, Chau- 
 det's pupils assured her that Regnauld was not Chaudet, 
 and the}- had n't the bringing up of her son, with other 
 impertinences ; and the atrocious .young scamps com- 
 posed a song with a hundred and thi^-seven couplets 
 on Madame Bridau. 
 
 On the evening of that sad day Agathe refused to play 
 at cards, and sat on her sofa plunged in such grief that 
 the tears stood in her handsome eyes. 
 
 11 What is the matter, Madame Bridau?" asked old 
 Claparon. 
 
The Two Brothers. 33 
 
 "She thinks her boy will have to beg his bread be- 
 cause he has got the bump of painting," said Madame 
 Descoings ; " but, for my part, I 'm not the least uneasy 
 about the future of my step-son, little Bixiou, who has 
 a passion for drawing. Men are born to get on." 
 
 " You are right," said the hard and severe Desroches, 
 wllo, in spite of his talents, had never himself got on to 
 the position of assistant-head of a department. u Hap- 
 pily I have only one son ; otherwise, with my eighteen 
 hundred francs a year, and a wife who makes barely 
 twelve hundred out of her stamped-paper office, I don't 
 know what would become of me. I have just placed my 
 boy as under-clerk to a lawyer ; he gets twenty-five francs 
 a month and his breakfast. I give him as much more, 
 and he dines and sleeps at home. That 's all he gets ; 
 he must manage for himself, but he '11 make his way. I 
 keep the fellow harder at work than if he were at school, 
 and some da} T he will be a barrister. When I give him 
 money to go to the theatre, he is as happy as a king 
 and kisses me. Oh, I keep a tight hand on him, and he 
 renders me an account of all he spends. You are too 
 good to your children, Madame Bridau ; if your son 
 wants to go through hardships and privations, let him ; 
 they '11 make a man of him." 
 
 " As for my boy," said Du Bruel, a former chief of a 
 division, who had just retired on a pension, "he is only 
 sixteen ; his mother dotes on him ; but I should n't lis- 
 ten to his choosing a profession at his age, — a mere 
 fancy, a notion that may pass off. In my opinion, boys 
 should be guided and controlled." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! you are rich, }-ou are a man, and you 
 have but one son," said Agathe. 
 
 "Faith!" said Claparon, "children do tyrannize 
 3 
 
34 The Two Brothers. 
 
 over us — over our hearts, I mean. Mine makes me 
 furious ; he has dearly ruined me, and now I won't 
 have anything to do with him — it 's a sort of inde- 
 pendenee. Well, he is the happier for it, and so am I. 
 That fellow was partly the cause of his mother's death. 
 He chose to be a commercial traveller ; and the trade 
 just suited him, for he was no sooner in the house tnan 
 he wanted to be out of it ; he could n't keep in one 
 place, and he would n't learn anything. All I ask of 
 God is that I may die before he dishonors my name. 
 Those who have no children lose many pleasures, but 
 they escape great sufferings." 
 
 "And these men are fathers!" thought Agathe, 
 weeping anew. 
 
 " What I am trying to show 30U, m}- dear Madame 
 Bridau, is that you had better let yotiT boy be a 
 painter ; if not, you will only waste your time." 
 
 " If 3'ou were able to coerce him," said the sour Des- 
 roches, " I should advise you to oppose his tastes ; but 
 weak as I see 3011 are, you had better let him daub if 
 he likes." 
 
 "Console yourself, Agathe," said Madame Descoings, 
 "Joseph will turn out a great man." 
 , After this discussion, which was like all discussions, the 
 widow's friends united in giving her one and the same ad- 
 vice ; which advice did not in the least relieve her anxie- 
 ties. The3 T advised her to let Joseph follow his bent. 
 
 "If he doesn't turn out a genius," said Du Bruel, 
 who always tried to please Agathe, " you can then get 
 him into some government office." 
 
 When Madame Descoings accompanied the old clerks 
 to the door she assured them, at the head of the stairs, 
 that the3* were " Grecian sages." 
 
The Two Brothers. 35 
 
 " Madame Bridan ought to be glad her son is willing 
 to do anything," said Claparon. 
 
 "Besides," said Desroches, " if God preserves the 
 Emperor, Joseph will always be looked after. Why 
 should she worry?" 
 
 "She is timid about everything that concerns her 
 children," answered Madame Descoings. "Well, my 
 good girl," she said, returning to Agathe, "you see 
 they are unanimous ; why are you still crying?" 
 
 "If it was Philippe, I should have no anxiety. But 
 you don't know what goes on in that atelier ; the\< have 
 naked women ! " 
 
 "I hope they keep good fires," said Madame Des- 
 coings. 
 
 A few da3'S after this, the disasters of the retreat from 
 Moscow became known. Napoleon returned to Paris 
 to organize fresh troops, and to ask further sacrifices 
 from the country. The poor mother was then plunged 
 into very different anxieties. Philippe, who was tired 
 of school, wanted to serve under the Emperor ; he saw 
 a review at the Tuileries, — the last Napoleon ever held, 
 — and he became infatuated with the idea of a soldier's 
 life. In those days militaiy splendor, the show of uni- 
 forms, the authority of epaulets, offered irresistible se- 
 ductions to a certain style of youth. Philippe thought 
 he had the same vocation for the army that his brother 
 Joseph showed for art. Without his mother's knowl- 
 edge, he wrote a petition to the Emperor, which read as 
 follows : — 
 
 Sire, — I am the son of your Bridau ; eighteen years of 
 age, five feet six inches; I have good legs, a good constitu- 
 tion, and I wish to be one of your soldiers. I ask you to let 
 me enter the army, etc. 
 
36 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Within twenty-four hours, the Emperor had sent 
 Philippe to the Imperial I/yceum at Saint-C3'r, and six 
 months later, in November, 1813, he appointed him 
 sub-lieutenant in a regiment of cavalry. Philippe spent 
 the greater part of that winter in cantonments, but as 
 soon as he knew how to ride a horse he was dispatched 
 to the front, and went eagerly. During the campaign 
 in France he was made a lieutenant, after an affair at 
 the outposts where his bravery had saved his colonel's 
 life. The Emperor named him captain at the battle of 
 La Fere-Champenoise, and took him on his staff. In- 
 spired by such promotion, Philippe won the cross at 
 Montereau. He witnessed Napoleon's farewell at Fon- 
 tainebleau, raved at the sight, and refused to serve the 
 Bourbons. When he returned to his mother, in July, 
 1814, he found her ruined. 
 
 Joseph's scholarship was withdrawn after the holi- 
 days, and Madame Bridau, whose pension came from 
 the Emperor's privy purse, vainly entreated that it might 
 be inscribed on the rolls of the ministrj' of the interior. 
 Joseph, more of a painter than ever, was delighted 
 with the turn of events, and entreated his mother to 
 let him go to Monsieur Regnauld, promising to earn 
 his own living. He declared he was quite sufficiently 
 advanced in the second class to get on without rhet- 
 oric. Philippe, a captain at nineteen and decorated, 
 who had, moreover, served the Emperor as aide-de- 
 camp in two battles, flattered the mother's vanity im- 
 mensely. Coarse, blustering, and without real merit 
 be3'ond the vulgar braven r of a cavalr\ T officer, he was 
 to her mind a man of genius ; whereas Joseph, puny 
 and sickly, with unkempt hair and absent mind, seek- 
 ing peace, loving quiet, and dreaming of an artist's 
 
The Two Brothers. 37 
 
 glory, would only bring her, she thought, worries and 
 anxieties. 
 
 The winter of 1814-1815 was a lucky one for Joseph. 
 Secretly encouraged by Madame Descoings and Bixiou, 
 a pupil of Gros, he went to work in the celebrated ate- 
 lier of that painter, whence a vast variety of talent 
 issued in its day, and there he formed the closest inti- 
 macy with Schinner. The return from Elba came ; Cap- 
 tain Bridau joined the Emperor at Lyons, accompanied 
 him to the Tuileries, and was appointed to the com- 
 mand of a squadron in the dragoons of the Guard. Af- 
 ter the battle of Waterloo — in which he was slightly 
 wounded, and where he won the cross of an officer of 
 the Legion of honor — he happened to be near Marshal 
 Davoust at Saint-Denis, and was not with the army of 
 the Loire. In consequence of this, and through Da- 
 voust's intercession, his cross and his rank were secured 
 to him, but he was placed on half-pay. 
 
 Joseph, anxious about his future, studied all through 
 this period with an ardor which several times made 
 him ill in the midst of these tumultuous events. 
 
 "It is the smell of the paints," Agathe said to Ma- 
 dame Descoings. " He ought to give up a business so 
 injurious to his health." 
 
 However, all Agathe's anxieties were at this time for 
 her son the lieutenant-colonel. When she saw him 
 again in 1816, reduced from the salary of nine thou- 
 sand francs (paid to a commander in the dragoons of 
 the Imperial Guard) to a half-pay of three hundred 
 francs a month, she fitted up her attic rooms for him, 
 and spent her savings in doing so. Philippe was one 
 of the faithful Bonapartes of the cafe Lemblin, that con- 
 stitutional Boeotia ; he acquired the habits, manners, 
 
38 The Two Brothers. 
 
 style, and life of a half-pay officer; indeed, like anj 
 other young man of twenty-one, he exaggerated them, 
 vowed in good earnest a mortal enmity to the Bour- 
 bons, never reported himself at the War department, 
 and even refused opportunities which were offered to 
 him for employment in the infantry with his rank of lieu- 
 tenant-colonel. In his mother's e3'es, Philippe seemed 
 in all this to be displaying a noble character. 
 
 "The father himself could have done no more," she 
 said. 
 
 Philippe's half-pay sufficed him ; he cost nothing at 
 home, whereas all Joseph's expenses were paid b}- the 
 two widows. From that moment, Agathe's preference 
 for Philippe was openty shown. Up to that time it 
 had been secret ; but the persecution of this faithful ser- 
 vant of the Emperor, the recollection of the wound re- 
 ceived b3 T her cherished son, his courage in adversity, 
 which, voluntary though it were, seemed to her a glori- 
 ous adversity, drew forth all Agathe's tenderness. The 
 one sentence, "He is unfortunate," explained and jus- 
 tified everything. Joseph himself, — with the innate 
 simplicity which superabounds in the artist-soul in its 
 opening years, and who was, moreover, brought up to 
 admire his big brother, — so far from being hurt by the 
 preference of their mother, encouraged it b\ T sharing 
 her worship of the hero who had carried Napoleon's 
 orders on two battlefields, and was wounded at Water- 
 loo. How could he doubt the superiority of the grand 
 brother, whom he had beheld in the green and gold uni- 
 form of the dragoons of the Guard, commanding his 
 squadron on the Champ de Mars? 
 
 Agathe, notwithstanding this preference, was an ex- 
 cellent mother. She loved Joseph, though not blindly; 
 
The Two Brothers. 39 
 
 she simply was unable to understand him. Joseph 
 adored his mother ; Philippe let his mother adore him. 
 Towards her, the dragoon softened his militaiy bru- 
 tality ; but he never concealed the contempt he felt for 
 Joseph, — expressing it, however, in a friendly way. 
 When he looked at his brother, weak and sickly as he 
 was at seventeen years of age, shrunken with deter- 
 mined toil, and over- weighted with his powerful head, 
 he nicknamed him " Cub." Philippe's patronizing man- 
 ners would have wounded any one less carelessly in- 
 different than the artist, who had, moreover, a firm belief 
 in the goodness of heart which soldiers hid, he thought, 
 beneath a brutal exterior. Joseph did not yet know, 
 poor bo}% that soldiers of genius are as gentle and cour- 
 teous in manner as other superior men in any walk of 
 life. All genius is alike, wherever found. 
 
 "Poor boy!" said Philippe to his mother, " we 
 mustn't plague him ; let him do as he likes." 
 
 To his mother's eyes the colonel's contempt was a 
 mark of fraternal affection. 
 
 " Philippe will always love and protect his brother," 
 she thought to herself. 
 
40 The Two Brothers. 
 
 III. 
 
 In 1816, Joseph obtained his mother's permission to 
 convert the garret which adjoined his attic room into an 
 atelier, and Madame Descoings gave him a little monej- 
 for the indispensable requirements of the painter's trade ; 
 — in the minds of the two widows, the art of painting 
 was nothing but a trade. With the feeling and ardor 
 of his vocation, the lad himself arranged his humble 
 atelier. Madame Descoings persuaded the owner of 
 the house to put a skylight in the roof. The garret 
 was turned into a vast hall painted in chocolate-color 
 hy Joseph himself. On the walls he hung a few sketches. 
 Agathe contributed, not without reluctance, a little iron 
 stove ; so that her son might be able to work at home, 
 without, however, abandoning the studio of Gros, nor 
 that of Schinner. 
 
 The constitutional part}', supported chiefly bj- officers 
 on half-pay and the Bonapartists, were at this time 
 inciting emeutes around the Chamber of Deputies, on 
 behalf of the Charter, though no one actually wanted it. 
 Several conspiracies were brewing. Philippe, who dab- 
 bled in them, was arrested, and then released for want 
 of proof ; but the minister of war cut short his half-pay 
 by putting him on the active list, — a step that might be 
 called a form of discipline. France was no longer safe ; 
 Philippe was liable to fall into some trap laid for him 
 by spies, — provocative agents, as they were called, be- 
 ing much talked of in those days. 
 
The Two Brothers. 41 
 
 While Philippe plaj'ed billiards in disaffected cafes, 
 losing his time and acquiring the habit of wetting his 
 whistle with "little glasses" of all sorts of liquors, 
 Agathe lived in mortal terror for the safety of the 
 great man of the family. The Grecian sages were 
 too much accustomed to wend their nightly way up 
 Madame Bridau's staircase, finding the two widows 
 ready^ and waiting, and hearing from them all the news 
 of their day, ever to break up the habit of coming to 
 the green salon for their game of cards. The minis- 
 try of the interior, though purged of its former em- 
 ployes in 181G, had retained Claparon, one of those 
 cautious men, who whisper the news of the " Moniteur," 
 adding invariably, ' k Don't quote me." Desroches, who 
 had retired from active service some time after old Du 
 Bruel, was still battling for his pension. The three 
 friends, who were witnesses of Agathe's distress, 
 advised her to send the colonel to travel in foreign 
 countries. 
 
 " Thej' talk about conspiracies, and your son, with 
 his disposition, will be certain to fall a victim in some 
 of them ; there is plenty of treachery in these days." 
 
 " Philippe is cut from the wood the Emperor made into 
 marshals," said Du Bruel, in a low voice, looking cau- 
 tiously about him ; kt and lie mustn't give up his pro- 
 fession. Let him serve in the East, in India — " 
 
 •' Think of his health," said Agathe. 
 
 " Why doesn't he get some place, or business ?" 
 said old Desroches ; " there are plenty of private offices 
 to be had. I am going as head of a bureau in an in- 
 surance compan}*, as soon as I have got my pension." 
 
 " Philippe is a soldier ; he would not like to be any- 
 thing else," said the warlike Agathe. 
 
42 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Then he ought to have the sense to ask for employ- 
 ment — " 
 
 " And serve these others /" cried the widow. " Oh ! 
 I will never give him that advice." 
 
 "You are wrong," said Du Bruel. "My son has 
 just got an appointment through the Due de Navarreins. 
 The Bourbons are very good to those who are sincere 
 in rallying to them. Your son could be appointed lieu- 
 tenant-colonel to a regiment." 
 
 " They only appoint nobles in the cavalry. Philippe 
 would never rise to be a colonel," said Madame Des- 
 coings. 
 
 Agathe, much alarmed, entreated Philippe to travel 
 abroad, and put himself at the service of some foreign 
 power who, she thought, would gladly welcome a staff 
 officer of the Emperor. 
 
 " Serve a foreign nation ! " cried Philippe, with 
 horror. 
 
 Agathe kissed her son with enthusiasm. 
 
 " His father all over ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " He is right," said Joseph. " France is too proud 
 of her heroes to let them be heroic elsewhere. Na- 
 poleon ma}' return once more." 
 
 However, to satisfy his mother, Philippe took up 
 the dazzling idea of joining General Lallemand in the 
 United States, and helping him to found what was called 
 the Champ d'Asile, one of the most disastrous swindles 
 that ever appeared under the name of national sub- 
 scription. Agathe gave ten thousand francs to start her 
 son, and she went to Havre to see him off. By the end 
 of 1817, she had accustomed herself to live on the six 
 hundred francs a year which remained to her from her 
 property in the Funds ; then, by a lucky chance, she made 
 
The Two Brothers. 43 
 
 a good investment of the ten thousand francs she still 
 kept of her savings, from which she obtained an inter- 
 est of seven per cent. Joseph wished to emulate in his 
 mother's devotion. He dressed like a bailiff; w r ore the 
 commonest shoes and blue stockings ; denied himself 
 gloves, and burned charcoal ; he lived on bread and 
 milk and Brie cheese. The poor lad got no sympathy, 
 except from Madame Descoings, and from Bixiou, his 
 student- friend and comrade, who was then making those 
 admirable caricatures of his, and filling a small office in 
 the ministry. 
 
 " With what joy I welcomed the summer of 1818 ! " 
 said Joseph Bridau in after^ears, relating his troubles ; 
 M the sun saved me the cost of charcoal." 
 
 As good a colorist by this time as Gros himself, 
 Joseph now went to his master for consultation onl} T . 
 He was already meditating a tilt against classical tradi- 
 tions, and Grecian conventionalities, in short, against the 
 leading-strings which held down an art to which Nature 
 as she is belongs, in the omnipotence of her creations and 
 her imagery. Joseph made ready for a struggle which, 
 from the day when he first exhibited in the Salon, has 
 never ceased. It was a terrible year. Roguin, the 
 notary of Madame Descoings and Madame Bridau, ab- 
 sconded with the moneys held back for seven years from 
 Madame Descoings's annuity, which by that time were 
 producing two thousand francs a year. Three days after 
 this disaster, a bill of exchange for a thousand francs, 
 drawn by Philippe upon his mother, arrived from New 
 York. The poor fellow, misled like so many others, 
 had lost his all in the Champ d'Asile. A letter, which 
 accompanied the bill, drove Agathe, Joseph, and the 
 Descoings to tears, and told of debts contracted in 
 
 LIBRAS- 
 
 THE \ 
 
 tJHIVEBSITY 1 
 
U The Two Brothers. 
 
 New York, where his comrades in misfortunes had in- 
 dorsed for him. 
 
 M It was I who made him go ! " cried the poor mother, 
 eager to divert the blame from Philippe. 
 
 "I advise } t ou not to send him on man}- such jour- 
 neys," said the old Descoings to her niece. 
 
 Madame Descoings was heroic. She continued to 
 give the three thousand francs a year to Madame Bri- 
 dau, but she still paid the dues on her trey which had 
 never turned up since the year 1799. About this time, 
 she began to doubt the honesty of the government, and 
 declared it was capable of keeping the three numbers 
 in the urn, so as to excite the shareholders to put in 
 enormous stakes. After a rapid survey of all their re- 
 sources, it seemed to the two women impossible to raise 
 the thousand francs without selling out the little that 
 remained in the Funds. The}* talked of pawning their 
 silver and part of the linen, and even the needless 
 pieces of furniture. Joseph, alarmed at these sugges- 
 tions, went to see Gerard and told him their circum- 
 stances. The great painter obtained an order from the 
 household of the king for two copies of a portrait of 
 Louis XVIII., at five hundred francs each. Though 
 not naturally generous, Gros took his pupil to an artist- 
 furnishing house and fitted him out with the necessary 
 materials. But the thousand francs could not be had 
 till the copies were delivered, so Joseph painted four 
 panels in ten da}*s, sold them to the dealers and brought 
 his mother the thousand francs with which to meet the 
 bill of exchange when it fell due. Eight days later, came 
 a letter from the colonel, informing his mother that he 
 was about to return to France on board a packet from 
 New York, whose captain had trusted him for the pas- 
 
The Two Brothers. 45 
 
 sage-money. Philippe announced that he should need 
 at least a thousand francs on his arrival at Havre. 
 
 " Good," said Joseph to his mother, "I shall have 
 finished my copies by that time, and you can carry him 
 the money." 
 
 tk Dear Joseph ! " cried Agathe in tears, kissing her 
 son, " God will bless you. You do love him, then, poor 
 persecuted fellow ? He is indeed our glory and our hope 
 for the future. So young, so brave, so unfortunate ! 
 everything is against him ; we three must always stand 
 by him." 
 
 " You see now that painting is good for something," 
 cried Joseph, overjoyed to have won his mother's per- 
 mission to be a great artist. 
 
 Madame Bridau rushed to meet her beloved son, 
 Colonel Philippe, at Havre. Once there, she walked 
 every day beyond the round tower built by Francois I., 
 to look but for the American packet, enduring the 
 keenest anxieties. Mothers alone know how such suf- 
 ferings quicken maternal love. The vessel arrived on 
 a fine morning in October, 1819, without delay, and 
 having met with no mishap. The sight of a mother and 
 the air of one's native land produces a certain effect upon 
 the coarsest nature, especially after the miseries of a sea- 
 voyage. Philippe gave wa3 T to a rush of feeling, which 
 made Agathe think to herself, "Ah! how lie loves 
 me!" Alas, the hero loved but one person in the 
 world, and that person was Colonel Philippe. His mis- 
 fortunes in Texas, his stay in New York, — a place where 
 speculation and individualism are carried to the highest 
 pitch, where the brutality of self-interest attains to cyni- 
 cism, where man, essentially isolated, is compelled to 
 push his way for himself and by himself, where politeness 
 
46 The Two Brothers. 
 
 does not exist, — in fact, even the minor events of 
 Philippe's journey had developed in him the worst traits 
 of an old campaigner : he had grown brutal, selfish, 
 rude ; he drank and smoked to excess ; physical hard- 
 ships and poverty had depraved him. Moreover, he 
 considered himself persecuted ; and the effect of that 
 idea is to make persons who are unintelligent persecu- 
 tors and bigots themselves. To Philippe's conception 
 of life, the universe began at his head and ended at his 
 feet, and the sun shone for him alone. The things he 
 had seen in New York, interpreted by his practical 
 nature, carried away his last scruples on the score of 
 morality. For such beings, there are but two ways of 
 existence. Either they believe, or thej^ do not believe ; 
 they have the virtues of honest men, or the}' give them- 
 selves up to the demands of necessit} 7 ; in which case 
 they proceed to turn their slightest interests and each 
 passing impulse of their passions into necessities. 
 
 Such a S3'stem of life carries a man a long wa}\ It 
 was only in appearance that Colonel Philippe retained 
 the frankness, plain-dealing, and easy-going freedom of 
 a soldier. This made him, in realit}', very dangerous ; 
 he seemed as guileless as a child, but, thinking only of 
 himself, he never did anything without reflecting what he 
 had better do, — like a wily lawyer planning some trick 
 a la Maitre Oonin / words cost him nothing, and he 
 said as many as he could get people to believe. If, un- 
 fortunatety, some one refused to accept the explanations 
 with which he justified the contradictions between his 
 conduct and his professions, the colonel, who was a 
 good shot and could defy the most adroit fencing- 
 master, and possessed the coolness of one to whom life 
 is indifferent, was quite read}- to demand satisfaction for 
 
The Two Brothers. 47 
 
 the first sharp word ; and when a man shows himself 
 prepared for violence there is little .more to be said. 
 His imposing stature had taken on a .certain rotundit}', 
 his face was bronzed from exposure in Texas, he was 
 still succinct in speech, and had acquired the decisive 
 tone of a man obliged to make himself feared among 
 the populations of a new world. Thus developed, 
 plainly dressed, his bod}' trained to endurance by his 
 recent hardships, Philippe in the eyes of his mother was 
 a hero ; in point of fact, he had simply become what 
 people (not to mince matters) call a blackguard. 
 
 Shocked at the destitution of her cherished son, 
 Madame Bridau bought him a complete outfit of clothes 
 at Havre. After listening to the tale of his woes, she 
 had not the heart to stop his drinking and eating and 
 amusing himself as a man just returned from the Champ 
 d'Asile was likely to eat and drink and divert himself. 
 It was certainly a line conception, — that of conquering 
 Texas with the remains of the imperial army. The 
 failure was less in the idea than in the men who con- 
 ceived it ; for Texas is to-day a republic, with a future 
 full of promise. This scheme of Liberalism under the 
 Restoration distinct!}' proves that the interests of the 
 party were purety selfish and not national, seeking 
 power and nothing else. Neither men, nor occasion, nor 
 cause, nor devotion were lacking ; only the money and 
 the support of the hypocritical party at home who dis- 
 pensed enormous sums, but gave nothing when it came 
 to recovering empire. Household managers like Agathe 
 have a plain common-sense which enables them to per- 
 ceive such political chicane : the poor woman saw tlu 
 truth through the lines of her son's tale ; for she had 
 read, in the exiles interests, all the pompous editorials 
 
48 The Two Brothers. 
 
 of the constitutional journals, and watched the manage- 
 ment of the famous subscription, which produced barely 
 one hundred and fifty thousand francs when it ought to 
 have yielded five or six millions. The Liberal leaders 
 soon found out that the}' were playing into the hands of 
 Louis XVIII. by exporting the glorious remnants of 
 our grand army, and the}' promptly abandoned to their 
 fate the most devoted, the most ardent, the most enthu- 
 siastic of its heroes, — those, in short, who had gone in 
 the advance. Agathe was never able, however, to 
 make her son see that he was more duped than perse- 
 cuted. With blind belief in her idol, she supposed her- 
 self ignorant, and deplored, as Philippe did, the evil 
 times which had done him such wrong. Up to this 
 time he was, to her mind, throughout his misfortunes, 
 less fault}' than victimized by his noble nature, his 
 energy, the fall of the Emperor, the duplicity of the 
 Liberals, and the rancor of the Bourbons against the 
 Bonapartists. During the week at Havre, a week which 
 was horribly costly, she dared not ask him to make terms 
 with the royal government and apply to the minister of 
 war. She had hard work to get him away from Havre, 
 where living is very expensive, and to bring him back to 
 Paris before her money gave out. Madame Descoings 
 and Joseph, who were waiting their arrival in the court- 
 yard of the coach-office of the Messageries Royales, were 
 struck with the change in Agathe's face. 
 
 ki Your mother has aged ten years in two months," 
 whispered the Descoings to Joseph, as they all em- 
 braced, and the two trunks were being handed down. 
 
 44 How do you do, mere Descoings?" was the cool 
 greeting the colonel bestowed on the old woman whom 
 Joseph was in the habit of calling " maman Descoings." 
 
The Two Brothers. 49 
 
 " I have no mone} T to pay for a hackne}--coach," said 
 Agathe, in a sad voice. 
 
 "I have," replied the 3'oung painter. " What a 
 splendid color Philippe has turned ! " he cried, looking 
 at his brother. 
 
 "Yes, I've browned like a pipe," said Philippe. 
 " But as for you, 3-011 're not a bit changed, little man." 
 
 Joseph, who was now twenty-one, and much thought 
 of by the friends who had stood by him in his days of 
 trial, felt his own strength and was aware of his talent ; 
 he represented the art of painting in a circle of young 
 men whose lives were devoted to science, letters, 
 politics, and philosoph}-. Consequently, he was wounded 
 by his brother's contempt, which Philippe still further 
 emphasized with a gesture, pulling his ears as if he 
 were still a child. Agathe noticed the coolness which 
 succeeded the first glow of tenderness on the part of 
 Joseph and Madame Descoings ; but she hastened to 
 tell them of Philippe's sufferings in exile, and so les- 
 sened it. Madame Descoings, wishing to make a fes- 
 tival of the return of the prodigal, as she called him 
 under her breath, had prepared one of her good dinners, 
 to which old Claparon and the elder Desroches were 
 invited. All the family friends were to come, and did 
 come, in the evening. Joseph had invited Leon Giraud, 
 d'Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, and Horace 
 Bianchon, his friends of the fraternity. Madame Des- 
 coings had promised Bixiou, her so-called step-son, that 
 the young people should play at ecarte. Desroches 
 the younger, who had now taken, under his father's stern 
 rule, his degree at law, was also of the party. Du Bruel, 
 Claparon, Desroches, and the Abbe Loraux carefully 
 observed the returned exile, whose manners and coarse 
 
 4 
 
50 The Two Brothers. 
 
 features, and voice roughened by the abuse of liquors, 
 together with his vulgar glance and phraseology, 
 alarmed them not a little. While Joseph was placing 
 the card-tables, the more intimate of the family friends 
 surrounded Agathe and asked, — 
 
 " What do you intend to make of Philippe? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered, " but he is determined 
 not to serve the Bourbons." 
 
 " Then it will be very difficult to find him a place in 
 France. If he won't re-enter the army, he can't be 
 readily got into government employ," said old Du Bruel. 
 tk And you have only to listen to him to see he could 
 never, like my son, make his fortune bj* writing 
 plays." 
 
 The motion of Agathe's e}es, with which alone she 
 replied to this speech, showed how anxious Philippe's 
 future made her; the}' all kept silence. The exile him- 
 self, Bixiou, and the younger Desroches were playing at 
 ecarte, a game which was then the rage. 
 
 ' k Maman Descoings, my brother has no mone3 T to 
 play with," whispered Joseph in the good woman's ear. 
 
 The devotee of the Ro3'al Lottery fetched twenty 
 francs and gave them to the artist, who slipped them 
 secretly into his brother's hand. All the company were 
 now assembled. There were two tables of boston ; and 
 the party grew lively. Philippe proved a bad player : 
 after winning for awhile, he began to lose ; and by eleven 
 o'clock he owed fifty francs to 3"oung Desroches and to 
 Bixiou. The racket and the disputes at the ecarte 
 table resounded more than once in the ears of the more 
 peaceful boston players, who w r ere watching Philippe 
 surreptitiously. The exile showed such signs of bad 
 temper that in his final dispute with the younger 
 
The Two Brothers. 51 
 
 Desroches, who was none too amiable himself, the 
 elder Desroches joined in, and though his son was 
 decidedly in the right, he declared he was in the 
 wrong, and forbade him to play any more. Madame 
 Descoings did the same with her grandson, who was 
 beginning to let fry certain witticisms ; and although 
 Philippe, so far, had not understood him, there was 
 always a chance that one of the barbed arrows might 
 pierce the colonel's thick skull and put the sharp jester 
 in peril. 
 
 "You must be tired," whispered Agathe in Philippe's 
 ear ; " come to bed." 
 
 "Travel educates youth," said Bixiou, grinning, when 
 Madame Bridau and the colonel had disappeared. 
 
 Joseph, who got up at dawn and went to bed early, 
 did not see the end of the party. The next morning 
 Agathe and Madame Descoings, while preparing break- 
 fast, could not help remarking that soirees would be ter- 
 ribly expensive if Philippe were to go on playing that 
 sort of game, as the Descoings phrased it. The worthy 
 old woman, then seventy-six years of age, proposed to 
 sell her furniture, give up her appartement on the second 
 floor (which the owner was only too glad to occupy), and 
 take Agathe's parlor for her chamber, making the other 
 room a sitting-room and dining-room for the family. 
 In this wa}- they could save seven hundred francs 
 a year ; which would enable them to give Philippe 
 fifty francs a month until he could find something to 
 do. Agathe accepted the sacrifice. When the colonel 
 came down and his mother had asked how he liked 
 his little bedroom, the two widows explained to him 
 the situation of the family. Madame Descoings 
 and Agathe possessed, by putting all their resources 
 
52 The Two Brothers. 
 
 together, an income of five thousand three hundred 
 francs, four thousand of which belonged to Madame 
 Descoings and were merely a life annuity. The Des- 
 coings made an allowance of six hundred a }*ear to 
 Bixiou, whom she had acknowledged as her grandson 
 during the last few months, also six hundred to Joseph ; 
 the rest of her income, together with that of Agathe, 
 was spent for the household wants. All their savings 
 were by this time eaten up. 
 
 "Make 3'ourselves easy," said the lieutenant-colonel. 
 "I'll find a situation and put you to no expense ; all I 
 need for the present is board and lodging." 
 
 Agathe kissed her son, and Madame Descoings slipped 
 a hundred francs into his hand to pay for his losses of 
 the night before. In ten days the furniture was sold, the 
 appartement given up, and the change in Agathe's do- 
 mestic arrangements accomplished with a celerit}* seldom 
 seen outside of Paris. During these ten days, Philippe 
 regularly decamped after breakfast, came back for din- 
 ner, was off again for the evening, and only got home 
 about midnight to go to bed. He contracted certain 
 habits half mechanically, and the}' soon became rooted 
 in him ; he got his boots blacked on the Pont Neuf for 
 the two sous it would have cost him to go by the Pont 
 des Arts to the Palais-Royal, where he consumed regu- 
 larly two glasses of brandy while reading the newspa- 
 pers, — an occupation which employed him till midday ; 
 after that he sauntered along the rue Vivienne to the 
 cafe Minerve, where the Liberals congregated, and 
 where he phTyed at billiards with a number of old com- 
 rades. While winning and losing, Philippe swallowed 
 four or five more glasses of divers liquors, and smoked 
 ten or a dozen cigars in going and coming- and idling 
 
The Two Brothers. 53 
 
 along the streets. In the evening, after consuming a 
 few pipes at the Hollandais smoking-rooms, he would 
 go to some gambling-place towards ten o'clock at night. 
 The waiter handed him a card and a pin ; he always in- 
 quired of certain well-seasoned players about the chances 
 of the red or the black, and staked ten francs when the 
 lucky moment seemed to come; never playing more 
 than three times, win or lose. If he won, which usually 
 happened, he drank a tumbler of punch and went home 
 to his garret ; but by that time he talked of smashing 
 the ultras and the Bourbon body-guard, and trolled out, 
 as he mounted the staircase, "We watch to save the 
 Empire ! " His poor mother, hearing him, used to think 
 "How gay Philippe is to-night!" and then she would 
 creep up and kiss him, without complaining of the fetid 
 odo^ of the punch, and the brandy, and the pipes. 
 
 "You ought to be satisfied with me, my dear mother," 
 he said, towards the end of January ; "I lead the 
 most regular of lives." 
 
 The colonel had dined five times at a restaurant with 
 some of his army comrades. These old soldiers were 
 quite frank with each other on the state of their own 
 affairs, all the while talking of certain hopes which they 
 based on the building of a submarine vessel, expected to 
 bring about the deliverance of the Emperor. Among 
 these former comrades, Philippe particularly liked an 
 old captain of the dragoons of the Guard, named Girou- 
 deau, in whose company he had seen his first service. 
 This friendship with the late dragoon led Philippe into 
 completing what Rabelais called "the devil's equipage ; " 
 and he added to his drams, and his tobacco, and his 
 play, a " fourth wheel." 
 
 One evening at the beginning of February, Giroudeau 
 
54 The Ttvo Brothers. 
 
 took Philippe after dinner to the Gaite, occupying a 
 free box sent to a theatrical journal belonging to his 
 nephew Finot, in whose office Giroucleau was cashier 
 and secretary. Both were dressed after the fashion of 
 the Bonapartist officers who now belonged to the Con- 
 stitutional Opposition ; they wore ample overcoats with 
 square collars, buttoned to the chin and coming down 
 to their heels, and decorated with the rosette of the 
 Legion of honor ; and they carried malacca canes with 
 loaded knobs, which they held by strings of braided 
 leather. The late troopers had just (to use one of 
 their own expressions) " made a bout of it," and were 
 mutually unbosoming their hearts as the}' entered the 
 box. Through the fumes of a certain number of bot- 
 tles and various glasses of various liquors, Giroudeau 
 pointed out to Philippe a plump and agile little ballet- 
 girl whom he called Florentine, whose good graces and 
 affection, together with the box, belonged to him as the 
 representative of an all-powerful journal. 
 
 "But," said Philippe, " I should like to know how 
 far her good graces go for such an iron-gra}' old trooper 
 as .you." 
 
 "Thank God," replied Giroudeau, "I've stuck to 
 the traditions of our glorious uniform. I have never 
 wasted a farthing upon a woman in my life." 
 
 "What's that?" said Philippe, putting a finger on 
 his left eye. 
 
 " That is so," answered Giroudeau. "But, between 
 ourselves, the newspaper counts for a good deal. To- 
 morrow, in a couple of lines, we shall advise the 
 managers to let Mademoiselle Florentine dance a par- 
 ticular step, and so forth. Faith, my dear boy, I'm 
 uncommonly lucky ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 55 
 
 " Well! " thought Philippe; "if this worthy Girou- 
 dean, with a skull as polished as my knee, forty-eight 
 years, a big stomach, a face like a ploughman, and a 
 nose like a potato, can get a ballet-girl, I ought to be 
 the lover of the first actress in Paris. Where does one 
 find such luck?" he said aloud. 
 
 "I'll show you Florentine's place to-night. My 
 Dulcinea only earns fifty francs a month at the thea- 
 tre," added Giroudeau, "but she is very prettily set 
 up, thanks to an old silk dealer named Cardot, who 
 gives her five hundred francs a month." 
 
 " Well, but — ? " exclaimed the jealous Philippe. 
 
 " Bah ! " said Giroudeau ; " true love is blind." 
 
 When the play was over Giroudeau took Philippe to 
 Mademoiselle Florentine's appartement, which was close 
 to the theatre, in the rue de Crussol. 
 
 " We must behave ourselves," said Giroudeau. 
 " Florentine's mother is here. You see, I have n't the 
 means to pay for one, so the worth}' woman is really 
 her own mother. She used to be a concierge, but she's 
 not without intelligence. Call her Madame ; she makes 
 a point of it." 
 
 Florentine happened that night to have a friend with 
 her, — a certain Marie Godeschal, beautiful as an 
 angel, cold as a danseuse, and a pupil of Vestris, who 
 foretold for her a great choregraphic destiny. Ma- 
 demoiselle Godeschal, anxious to make her first ap- 
 pearance at the Panorama-Dramatique under the name 
 of Mariette, based her hopes on the protection and 
 influence of a first gentleman of the bedchamber, to 
 whom Vestris had promised to introduce her. Vestris, 
 still green himself at this period, did not think his pu- 
 pil sufficiently trained to risk the introduction. The 
 
56 The Two Brothers. 
 
 ambitious girl did, in the end, make her pseudonym 
 of Mariette famous ; and the motive of her ambition, it 
 must be said, was praiseworthy. She had a brother, a 
 clerk in DervihVs law office. Left orphans and very 
 poor, and devoted to each other, the brother and sister 
 had seen life such as it is in Paris. The one wished to 
 be a lawyer that he might support his sister, and he lived 
 on ten sous a day ; the other had coldly resolved to be a 
 dancer, and to profit b}- her beauty as much as by her 
 legs that she might buy a practice for her brother. 
 Outside of their feeling for each other, and of their 
 mutual life and interests, everything was to them, as it 
 once was to the Romans and the Hebrews, barbaric, 
 outlandish, and hostile. This generous affection, which 
 nothing ever lessened, explained Mariette to those who 
 knew her intimatel}'. 
 
 The brother and sister were living at this time on the 
 eighth floor of a house in the Vieille rue du Temple. 
 Mariette had begun her studies when she was ten years 
 old ; she was now just sixteen. Alas ! for want of 
 becoming clothes, her beauty, hidden under a coarse 
 shawl, dressed in calico, and ill-kept, could only be 
 guessed by those Parisians who devote themselves to 
 hunting grisettes and the quest of beauty in misfor- 
 tune, as she trotted past them with mincing step, 
 mounted on iron pattens. Philippe fell in love with 
 Mariette. To Mariette, Philippe was commander of the 
 dragoons of the Guard, a staff-officer of the Emperor, a 
 young man of twenty-seven, and above all, the means 
 of proving herself superior to Florentine b} r the evident 
 superiority of Philippe over Giroudeau. Florentine 
 and Giroudeau, the one to promote his comrade's hap- 
 piness, the other to get a protector for her friend, 
 
The Two Brothers. 57 
 
 pushed Philippe and Mariette into a mariage en de- 
 trempe, — a Parisian term which is equivalent to " mor- 
 ganatic marriage," as applied to royal personages. 
 Philippe when they left the house revealed his poverty 
 to Giroudeau, but the old roue reassured him. 
 
 "I'll speak to my nephew Finot," he said, "You 
 see, Philippe, the reign of phrases and quill-drivers 
 is upon us ; we may as well submit. To-day, scrib- 
 blers are paramount. Ink has ousted gunpowder, 
 and talk takes the place of shot. After all, these 
 little toads of editors are pretty good fellows, and very 
 clever. Come and see me to-morrow at the newspaper 
 office ; b} r that time I shall have said a word for you to 
 raj nephew. Before long 30U '11 have a place on some 
 journal or other. Mariette, who is taking 30U at this 
 moment (don't deceive yourself) because she literally 
 has nothing, no engagement, no chance of appearing 
 on the stage, and I have told her that you are going 
 on a newspaper like myself, — Mariette will try to 
 make you believe she is loving you for yourself ; and 
 you will believe her ! Do as I do, — keep her as long 
 as you can. I was so much in love with Florentine 
 that I begged Finot to write her up and help her to a 
 debut ; but my nephew replied, ; You say she has 
 talent ; well, the da\ T after her first appearance she 
 will turn her back on you.' Oh, that 's Finot all over ! 
 You '11 find him a knowing one." 
 
 The next day, about four o'clock, Philippe went to 
 the rue de Sentier, where he found Giroudeau in the 
 entresol, — caged like a wild beast in a sort of hen-coop 
 with a sliding panel ; in which was a little stove, a little 
 table, two little chairs, and some little logs of wood. 
 This establishment bore the magic words, Subscription 
 
58 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Office, painted on the door in black letters, and the 
 word Cashier, written by hand and fastened to the grat- 
 ing of the cage. Along the wall that lay opposite to 
 the cage, was a bench, where, at this moment, a one- 
 armed man was breakfasting, who was called Coloquinte 
 by Giroudeau, doubtless from the Egyptian colors of 
 his skin. 
 
 "A pretty hole ! " exclaimed Philippe, looking round 
 the room. "In the name of thunder! what are you 
 doing here, you who charged with poor Colonel Chabert 
 at Eylau ? You — a gallant officer ! " 
 
 " Well, yes ! broom ! broum ! — a gallant officer keep- 
 ing the accounts of a little newspaper," said Giroudeau, 
 settling his black silk skull-cap. " Moreover, I'm the 
 working editor of all that rubbish," he added, pointing 
 to the newspaper itself. 
 
 "And I, who went to Egypt, I'm obliged to stamp 
 it," said the one-armed man. 
 
 "Hold 3'our tongue, Coloquinte," said Giroudeau. 
 "You are in presence of a hero who carried the Em- 
 peror's orders at the battle of Monte reau." 
 
 Coloquinte saluted. " That 's where I lost my missing 
 arm ! " he said. 
 
 "Coloquinte, look after the den. I'm going up to 
 see my nephew." 
 
 The two soldiers mounted to the fourth floor, where, 
 in an attic room at the end of a passage, the}' found a 
 young man with a cold light eye, lying on a dirty sofa. 
 The representative of the press did not stir, though he 
 offered cigars to his uncle and his uncle's friend. 
 
 " My good fellow," said Giroudeau in a soothing and 
 humble tone, " this is the gallant cavalry officer of the 
 Imperial Guard of whom I spoke to you." 
 
The Two Brothers. 59 
 
 "Eh! well?" said Finot, eying Philippe, who, like 
 Giroudeau, lost all his assurance before the diplomatist 
 of the press. 
 
 44 My dear boy," said Giroudeau, trying to pose as an 
 uncle, " the colonel has just returned from Texas." 
 
 44 Ah ! you were taken in by that affair of the Champ 
 d'Asile, were you ? Seems to me you were rather young 
 to turn into a Soldier-laborer." 
 
 The bitterness of this jest will only be understood by 
 those who remember the deluge of engravings, screens, 
 clocks, bronzes, and plaster-casts produced hy the idea 
 of the Soldier-laborer, a splendid image of Napoleon and 
 his heroes, which afterwards made its appearance on the 
 stage in vaudevilles. That idea, however, obtained a 
 national subscription ; and we still find, in the depths 
 of the provinces, old wall-papers which bear the effigy 
 of the Soldier-laborer. If this }'oung man had not been 
 Giroudeau's nephew, Philippe would have boxed his 
 ears. 
 
 "Yes, I was taken in by it; I lost my time, and 
 twelve thousand francs to boot," answered Philippe, 
 trying to force a grin. 
 
 44 You are still fond of the Emperor? " asked Finot. 
 
 44 He is my god," answered Philippe Bridau. 
 
 4 'You are a Liberal?" 
 
 44 1 shall always belong to the Constitutional Opposi- 
 tion. Oh Foy ! oh Manuel ! oh Laffitte ! what men they 
 are ! They '11 rid us of these others, — these wretches, 
 who came back to France at the heels of the enenry." 
 
 44 Well," said Finot coldly, " you ought to make some- 
 thing out of 3'our misfortunes ; for you are the victim of 
 the Liberals, my good fellow. Stay a Liberal, if you 
 really value your opinions, but threaten the party with 
 
60 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the follies in Texas which you are ready to show up. You 
 never got a farthing of the national subscription, did 
 you? Well, then you hold a fine position: demand an 
 account of that subscription. I 'IT tell you how you can 
 do it. A new Opposition journal is just starting, under 
 the auspices of the deputies of the Left ; you shall be the 
 cashier, with a salaiy of three thousand francs. A per- 
 manent place. All you want is some one to go security 
 for you in twenty thousand francs ; find that, and you 
 shall be installed within a week. I '11 advise the Lib- 
 erals to silence 30U by giving you the place. Mean- 
 time, talk, threaten, — threaten loudly." 
 
 Giroudeau let Philippe, who was profuse in his thanks, 
 go down a few steps before him, and then he turned back 
 to say to his nephew, "Well, you are a queer fellow! 
 you keep me here on twelve hundred francs — " 
 
 " That journal won't live a year," said Finot. " I 've 
 got something better for you." 
 
 "Thunder!" cried Philippe to Giroudeau. "He's 
 no fool, that nephew of yours. I never once thought of 
 making something, as he calls it, out of my position." 
 
 That night at the cafe Lemblin and the cafe Minerve 
 Colonel Philippe fulminated against the Liberal party, 
 which had raised subscriptions, sent heroes to Texas, 
 talked hypocritically of Soldier-laborers, and left them 
 to starve, after taking the money they had put into it, 
 and keeping them in exile for two years. 
 
 "I am going to demand an account of the moneys 
 collected by the subscription for the Champ d'Asile," he 
 said to one of the frequenters of the cafe, who repeated 
 it to the journalists of the Left. 
 
 Philippe did not go back to the rue Mazarin ; he went 
 toMariette and told her of his forthcoming appointment 
 
The Two Brothers. 61 
 
 on a newspaper with ten thousand subscribers, in which 
 her choregraphic claims should be warmly advanced. 
 
 Agathe and Madame Descoings waited up for Phil- 
 ippe in fear and trembling, for the Due de Berry had just 
 been assassinated. The colonel came home a few min- 
 utes after breakfast ; and when his mother showed her 
 uneasiness at his absence, he grew angry and asked if he 
 were not of age. 
 
 " In the name of thunder, what's all this ! here have 
 I brought you some good news, and you both look like 
 tombstones. The Due de Berry is dead, is he? — well, 
 so much the better! that's one the less, at any rate. 
 As for me, I am to be cashier of a newspaper, with a 
 salary of three thousand francs, and there you are, out 
 of all your anxeties on my account." 
 
 "Is it possible?" cried Agathe. 
 
 " Yes ; provided you can go security for me in twenty 
 thousand francs ; you need only deposit 3-our shares in 
 the Funds, you will draw the interest all the same." 
 
 The two widows, who for nearly two months had been 
 desperatel}' anxious to find out what Philippe was about, 
 and how he could be provided for, were so overjoyed 
 at this prospect that the}' gave no thought to their other 
 catastrophes. That evening, the Grecian sages, old 
 Du Bruel, Claparon, whose health was failing, and the 
 inflexible Desroches were unanimous ; they all advised 
 Madame Bridau to go security for her son. The new 
 journal, which fortunately was started before the assas- 
 sination of the Due de Berry, just escaped the blow 
 which Monsieur Decazes then launched at the press. 
 Madame Bridau's shares in the Funds, representing 
 thirteen hundred francs' interest, were transferred as 
 security for Philippe, who was then appointed cashier. 
 
62 The Two Brothers. 
 
 That good son at once promised to pay one hundred 
 francs every month to the two widows, for his board and 
 lodging, and was declared by both to be the best of 
 sons. Those who had thought ill of him now con- 
 gratulated Agathe. 
 
 " We were unjust to him," they said. 
 
 Poor Joseph, not to be behind his brother in generos- 
 fty, resolved to pay for his own support, and succeeded. 
 
The Two Brothers. 63 
 
 IV. 
 
 Three months later, the colonel, who ate and drank 
 enough for four men, finding fault with the food and 
 compelling the poor widows, on the score of his pay- 
 ments, to spend much money on their table, had not 
 yet paid down a single penny. His mother and Ma- 
 dame Descoings were unwilling, out of delicacj', to re- 
 mind him of his promise. The year went by without 
 one of those coins which Leon Gozlan so vigorously 
 calls " tigers with five claws " finding its wa} T from 
 Philippe's pocket to the household purse. It is true 
 that the colonel quieted his conscience on this score by 
 seldom dining at home. 
 
 " Well, he is happy," said his mother; " he is easy 
 in mind ; he has a place." 
 
 Through the influence of a feuilleton, edited by Ver- 
 non, a friend of Bixiou, Finot, and Giroudeau, Mariette 
 made her appearance, not at the Panorama-Dramatique 
 but at the Porte-Saint-Martin, where she triumphed 
 beside the famous Begrand. Among the directors of 
 the theatre was a rich and luxurious general officer, 
 in love with an actress, for whose sake he had made 
 himself an impresario. In Paris, we frequently meet 
 with men so fascinated with actresses, singers, or 
 ballet-dancers, that they are willing to become directors 
 of a theatre out of love. This officer knew Philippe 
 and Giroudeau. Mariette's first appearance, heralded 
 already by Finot's journal and also by Philippe's, was 
 
G4 The Tivo Brothers. 
 
 promptly arranged by the three officers ; for there seems 
 to be solidarity among the passions in a matter of folly. 
 
 The mischievous Bixiou was not long in revealing to 
 his grandmother and the devoted Agathe that Philippe, 
 the cashier, the hero of heroes, was in love with Mari- 
 ette, the celebrated ballet-dancer at the Porte-Saint- 
 Martin. The news was a thunder-clap to the two 
 widows ; Agathe's religious principles taught her to 
 think that all women on the stage were brands in the 
 burning ; moreover, she thought, and so did Madame 
 Descoings, that women of that kind dined off gold, 
 drank pearls, and wasted fortunes. 
 
 " Now do you suppose," said Joseph to his mother, 
 " that my brother is such a fool as to spend his money 
 on Mariette? Such women only ruin rich men." 
 
 " They talk of engaging Mariette at the Opera," said 
 Bixiou. " Don't be worried, Madame Bridau ; the dip- 
 lomatic body often comes to Porte-Saint-Martin, and 
 that handsome girl won't stay long with your son. I 
 did hear that an ambassador was madl}' in love with 
 her. By the bye, another piece of news ! Old Claparon 
 is dead, and his son, who has become a banker, has 
 ordered the cheapest kind of funeral for him. That 
 fellow has no education ; the}' would n't behave like that 
 in China." 
 
 Philippe, prompted by mercenary motives, proposed 
 to Mariette that she should marry him ; but she, know- 
 ing herself on the eve of an engagement at the Grand 
 Opera, refused the offer, either because she guessed 
 the colonel's motive, or because she saw how impor- 
 tant her independence would be to her future fortune. 
 For the remainder of this year, Philippe never came 
 more than twice a month to see his mother. Where 
 
The Two Brothers. 65 
 
 was he? Either at his office, or the theatre, or with 
 Mariette. No light whatever as to his conduct reached 
 the household in the rue Mazarin. Giroudeau, Finot, 
 Bixiou, Vernon, Lousteau, saw him leading a life of 
 pleasure. Philippe shared the gay amusements of Tul- 
 lia, a leading singer at the Opera, of Florentine, who 
 took Mariette's place at the Porte-Saint-Martin, of 
 Florine and Matifat, Coralie and Cam u sot. After four 
 o'clock, when he left his office, until midnight, he 
 amused himself; some party of pleasure had usually 
 been arranged the night before, — a good dinner, a 
 card-party, a supper by some one or other of the set. 
 Philippe was in his element. 
 
 This carnival, which lasted eighteen months, was not 
 altogether without its troubles. The beautiful Mariette 
 no sooner appeared at the Opera, in Januaiy, 1821, 
 than she captured one of the most distinguished dukes 
 of the court of Louis XVIII. Philippe tried to make 
 head against the peer, and b} r the month of April he 
 was compelled 03- his passion, notwithstanding some luck 
 at cards, to dip into the funds of which he was cashier. 
 By May he had taken eleven hundred francs. In that 
 fatal month Mariette started for London, to see what 
 could be done with the lords while the temporary opera 
 house in the Hotel Choiseul, rue Lepelletier, was being 
 prepared. The luckless Philippe had ended, as often 
 happens, in loving Mariette notwithstanding her flagrant 
 infidelities ; she herself had never thought him anything 
 but a dull-minded, brutal soldier, the first rung of a 
 ladder on which she never intended to remain long. 
 So, foreseeing the time when Philippe would have spent 
 all his money, she captured other journalistic support 
 which released her from the necessity of depending on 
 
6G The Two Brothers. 
 
 him ; nevertheless, she did feel the peculiar gratitude 
 that class of women acknowledge towards the first man 
 who smooths their way, as it were, among the difficulties 
 and horrors of a theatrical career. 
 
 Forced to let his terrible mistress go to London with- 
 out him, Philippe went into winter quarters, as he called 
 it, — that is, he returned to his attic room in his moth- 
 er's appartement. He made some gloomy reflections as 
 he went to bed that night, and when he got up again. He 
 was conscious within himself of the inability to live other- 
 wise than as he had been living the last } T ear. The luxur}* 
 that surrounded Mariette, the dinners, the suppers, the 
 evenings in the side-scenes, the animation of wits and 
 journalists, the sort of racket that went on around him, 
 the delights that tickled both his senses and his vanity, 
 — such a life, found only in Paris, and offering daily the 
 charm of some new thing, was now more than habit, — 
 it had become to Philippe as much a necessity as his 
 tobacco or his brandy. He saw plainly that he could 
 not live without these continual enjoyments. The idea 
 of suicide came into his head ; not on account of the 
 deficit which must soon be discovered in his accounts, 
 but because he could no longer live with Mariette in the 
 atmosphere of pleasure in which he had disported him- 
 self for over a year. Full of these gloomy thoughts, he 
 entered for the first time his brother's painting- room, 
 where he found the painter in a blue blouse, copying a 
 picture for a dealer. 
 
 " So that's how pictures are made," said Philippe, 
 by way of opening the conversation. 
 
 u No,'* said Joseph, " that is how the}' are copied." 
 
 " How much do they pay you for that? " 
 
 u Eh ! never enough ; two hundred and fifty francs. 
 
The Two Brothers. 67 
 
 But T study the manner of the masters and learn a 
 great deal ; I find out the secrets of their method. 
 There's one of my own pictures," he added, pointing 
 with the end of his brudi to a sketch with the colors 
 still moist. 
 
 44 How much do you pocket in a year? " 
 
 44 Unfortunately, I am known only to painters. 
 Schinner backs me ; and he has got me some work at 
 the Chateau de Presles, where I am going in October 
 to do some arabesques,, panels, and other decorations, 
 for which the Comte de Seriz} 7 , no doubt, will pay well. 
 With such trifles and with orders from the dealers, I 
 may manage to earn eighteen hundred to two thousand 
 francs a year over and above the working expenses. 
 I shall send that picture to the next exhibition ; if it 
 hits the public taste, my fortune is made. My friends 
 think well of it." 
 
 44 1 don't know anything about such things," said 
 Philippe, in a subdued voice which caused Joseph to 
 turn and look at him. 
 
 44 What is the matter?" said the artist, seeing that 
 his brother was very pale. 
 
 4 4 1 should like to know how long it would take } T ou 
 to paint my portrait ? " 
 
 44 If I worked steadily, and the weather were clear, I 
 could finish it in three or four da}'S." 
 
 44 That 's too long ; I have only one day to give you. 
 My poor mother loves me so much that I wished to 
 leave her my likeness. We will say no more about 
 it." 
 
 44 Why ! are yow going away again ? " 
 
 44 1 am going never to return," replied Philippe with 
 an air of forced gayety. 
 
68 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Look here, Philippe, what is the matter? If it is 
 anything serious, I am a man and not a ninn}*. I am ac- 
 customed to hard struggles, and if discretion is needed, 
 I have it." 
 
 " Are you sure?" 
 
 " On my honor." 
 
 " You will tell no one, no matter who?" 
 
 " No one." 
 
 " Well, I am going to blow my brains out." 
 
 " You ! — are you going to fight a duel?" 
 
 "lain going to kill myself." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " 1 have taken eleven hundred francs from the funds 
 in my hands ; I have got to send in my accounts to- 
 morrow morning. Half my security is lost ; our poor 
 mother will be reduced to six hundred francs a year. 
 That would be nothing ! I could make a fortune for 
 her later ; but I am dishonored ! I cannot live under 
 dishonor — " 
 
 " You will not be dishonored if it is paid back. To 
 be sure, you will lose your place, and you will only have 
 the five hundred francs a year from your cross ; but 
 you can live on five hundred francs." 
 
 "Farewell!" said Philippe, running rapidly down- 
 stairs, and not waiting to hear another word. 
 
 Joseph left his studio and went down to breakfast 
 with his mother ; but Philippe's confession had taken 
 away his appetite. He took Madame Descoings aside 
 and told her the terrible news. The old woman made 
 a frightened exclamation, let fall the saucepan of milk 
 she had in her hand, and flung herself into a chair. 
 Agathe rushed in ; from one exclamation to another 
 the mother gathered the fatal truth. 
 
The Two Brothers. 69 
 
 " He! to fail in honor! the son of Bridau take the 
 money that was trusted to him ! " 
 
 The widow trembled in every limb ; her ej'es dilated 
 and then grew fixed ; she sat down and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 4 4 Where is he?" she cried amid her sobs. u Per- 
 haps he has flung himself into the Seine." 
 
 44 You must not give up all hope," said Madame 
 Descoings, 44 because a poor lad has met with a bad 
 woman who has led him to do wrong. Dear me ! we 
 see that every day. Philippe has had such misfor- 
 tunes ! he has had so little chance to be happy and 
 loved that we ought not to be surprised at his passion 
 for that creature. All passions lead to excess. My 
 own life is not without reproach of that kind, and yet 
 I call myself an honest woman. A single fault is not 
 vice ; and after all, it is only those who do nothing that 
 are never deceived." 
 
 ' Agathe's despair overcame her so much that Joseph 
 and the Descoings were obliged to lessen Philippe's 
 wrong-doing by assuring her that such things happened 
 in all families. 
 
 44 But he is twenty-eight years old," cried Agathe ; 
 44 he is no longer a child." 
 
 Terrible revelation of the inward thought of the poor 
 woman on the conduct of her son. 
 
 44 Mother, I assure you he thought only of }our suffer- 
 ing and of the wrong he had done you," said Joseph. 
 
 44 Oh, nry God ! let him come back to me, let him 
 live, and I will forgive all," cried the poor mother, to 
 whose mind a horrible vision of Philippe dragged dead 
 out of the river presented itself. 
 
 Gloomy silence reigned for a short time. The day 
 
70 The Two Brothers. 
 
 went by with cruel alternations of hope and fear ; all 
 three ran to the window at the least sound, and gave 
 way to every sort of conjecture. While the family were 
 thus grieving, Philippe was quietly getting matters in 
 order at his office. He had the audacity to give in his 
 accounts with a statement that, fearing some accident, he 
 had retained eleven hundred francs at his own house for 
 safe keeping. The scoundrel left the office at five 
 o'clock, taking five hundred francs more from the desk, 
 and coolly went to a gambling-house ; which he had not 
 entered since his connection with the paper, for he knew 
 veiy well that a cashier must not be seen to frequent 
 such a place. The fellow was not wanting in acumen. 
 His past conduct proved that he derived more from his 
 grandfather Rouget than from his virtuous sire, Bridau. 
 Perhaps he might have made a good general ; but in 
 private life, he was one of those utter scoundrels who shel- 
 ter their schemes and their evil actions behind a screen 
 of strict legality, and the privacy of the family roof. 
 
 At this conjuncture Philippe maintained his coolness. 
 He won at first, and gained as much as six thousand 
 francs ; but he let himself be dazzled by the idea of 
 getting out of his difficulties at one stroke. He left the 
 trente-et-quarante, hearing that the black had come up 
 sixteen times at the roulette table, and was about to 
 put five thousand francs on the red, when the black 
 came up for the seventeenth time. The colonel then 
 put a thousand francs on the black and won. In spite 
 of this remarkable piece of luck, his head grew weary ; 
 he felt it, though he continued to play. But that divin- 
 ing sense which leads a gambler, and which comes in 
 flashes, was already failing him. Intermittent percep- 
 tions, so fatal to all gamblers, set in. Lucidity of 
 
The Two Brothers. 71 
 
 mind, like the rays of the sun, can have no effect except 
 by the continuity of a direct line ; it can divine only on 
 condition of not breaking that line ; the curvettings of 
 chance bemuddle it. Philippe lost all. After such a 
 strain, the careless mind as well as the bravest weakens. 
 When Philippe went home that night he was not thinking 
 of suicide, for he had never realty meant to kill himself; 
 he no longer thought of his lost place, nor of the sacri- 
 ficed securit}', nor of his mother, nor of Mariette, the 
 cause of his ruin ; he walked along mechanically. 
 When he got home, his mother in tears, Madame Des- 
 coings, and Joseph, all fell on his neck and kissed him 
 and brought him joyfully to a seat by the fire. 
 
 " Bless me ! " thought he, ** the threat has worked." 
 
 The brute at once assumed an air suitable to the 
 occasion ; all the more easily, because his ill-luck at 
 cards had deeply depressed him. Seeing her atrocious 
 Benjamin so pale and woe-begone, the poor mother 
 knelt beside him, kissed his hands, pressed them to her 
 heart, and gazed at him for a long time with eyes 
 swimming in tears. 
 
 "Philippe," she said, in a choking voice, "promise 
 not to kill yourself, and all shall be forgotten." 
 
 Philippe looked at his sorrowing brother and at 
 Madame Descoings, whose eyes were full of tears, and 
 thought to himself, " They are good creatures." Then 
 he took his mother in his arms, raised her and put 
 her on his knee, pressed her to his heart and whis- 
 pered as he kissed her, " For the second time, you give 
 me life." 
 
 The Descoings managed to serve an excellent dinner, 
 and to add two bottles of old wine with a little liqueur 
 des ties, a treasure left over from her former business. 
 
72 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Agathe," she said at dessert, "we must let him 
 smoke his cigars," and she offered some to Philippe. 
 
 These two poor creatures fancied that if they let the 
 fellow take his ease, he would like his home and sta}- in 
 it ; both, therefore, tried to endure his tobacco-smoke, 
 though each loathed it. That sacrifice was not so much 
 as noticed by Philippe. 
 
 On the morrow, Agathe looked ten years older. Her 
 terrors calmed, reflection came back to her, and the 
 poor woman had not closed an e3^e throughout that 
 horrible night. She was now reduced to six hundred 
 francs a year. Madame Descoings, like all fat women 
 fond of good eating, was growing heav} r ; her step on 
 the staircase sounded like the chopping of logs ; she 
 might die at airy moment ; with her life, four thousand 
 francs would disappear. What folly to rely on that 
 resource ! What should she do ? What would become 
 of them ? With her mind made up to become a sick- 
 nurse rather than be supported b^y her children, Agathe 
 did not think of herself. But Philippe? what would he 
 do if reduced to live on the five hundred francs of an 
 officer of the Legion of honor? During the past eleven 
 years, Madame Descoings, by giving up three thousand 
 francs a year, had paid her debt twice over, but she still 
 continued to sacrifice her grandson's interests to those 
 of the Bridau family. Though all Agathe's honorable 
 and upright feelings were shocked by this terrible dis- 
 aster, she said to herself: " Poor boy ! is it his fault? 
 He is faithful to his oath. I have done wrong not to 
 many him. If I had found him a wife, he would not 
 have got entangled with this danseuse. He has such a 
 vigorous constitution — " 
 
 Madame Descoings had likewise reflected during the 
 
The Two Brothers. 73 
 
 night as to the best way of saving the honor of the 
 family. At daybreak, she got out of bed and went to 
 her friend's room. 
 
 " Neither you nor Philippe should manage this deli- 
 cate matter," she said. M Our two old friends Du 
 Bruel and Claparon are dead, but we still have Des- 
 roches, who is very sagacious. I'll go and see him 
 this morning. He can tell the newspaper people that 
 Philippe trusted a friend and has been made a victim ; 
 that his weakness in such respects makes him unfit to 
 be a cashier ; what has now happened may happen again, 
 and that Philippe prefers to resign. That will prevent 
 his being turned off. " 
 
 Agathe, seeing that this business lie would save the 
 honor of her son, at an}' rate in the eyes of strangers, 
 kissed Madame Descoings, who went out early to make 
 an end of the dreadful affair. 
 
 Philippe, meanwhile, had slept the sleep of the 
 just. " She is sly, that old woman," he remarked, 
 when his mother explained to him why breakfast was 
 late. 
 
 Old Desroches, the last remaining friend of these 
 two poor women, who, in spite of his harsh nature, 
 never forgot that Bridau had obtained for him his place, 
 fulfilled like an accomplished diplomat the delicate mis- 
 sion Madame Descoings had confided to him. He came 
 to dine that evening with the famil}*, and notified Agathe 
 that she must go the next day to the Treasury, rue 
 Vivienne, sign the transfer of the funds involved, and 
 obtain a coupon for the six hundred francs a year which 
 still remained to her. The old clerk did not leave the 
 afflicted household that night without obliging Philippe 
 to sign a petition to the minister of war, asking for his 
 
74 The Two Brothers. 
 
 reinstatement in the active army. Desroches promised 
 the two women to follow up the petition at the war office, 
 and to profit by the triumph of a certain duke over 
 Philippe in the matter of the danseuse, and so obtain 
 that nobleman's influence. 
 
 " Philippe will be lieutenant-colonel in the Due de 
 Maufrigneuse's regiment within three months," he de- 
 clared, "and you will be rid of him." 
 
 Desroches went away, smothered with blessings from 
 the two poor widows and Joseph. As to the newspaper, 
 it ceased to exist at the end of two months, just as 
 Finot had predicted. Philippe's crime had, therefore, 
 so far as the world knew, no consequences. But 
 Agathe's motherhood had received a deadly wound. 
 Her belief in her son once shaken, she lived in per- 
 petual fear, mingled with some satisfactions, as she saw 
 her worst apprehensions unrealized. 
 
 When men like Philippe, who are endowed with 
 physical courage and }*et are cowardly and ignoble in 
 their moral being, see matters and things resuming their 
 accustomed course about them after some catastrophe in 
 which their honor and decency is wellnigh lost, such 
 family kindness, or any show of friendliness towards 
 them is a premium of encouragement. They count on 
 impunity ; their minds distorted, their passions grati- 
 fied, only prompt them to study how it happened that 
 they succeeded in getting round all social laws; the 
 result is they become alarmingly adroit. 
 
 A fortnight later, Philippe, once more a man of 
 leisure, laz} 7 and bored, renewed his fatal cafe life, — his 
 drams, his long games of billiards embellished with 
 punch, his nightty resort to the gambling-table, where 
 he risked some trifling stake and won enough to pay 
 
The Two Brothers, 75 
 
 for his dissipations. Apparently very economical, the 
 better to deceive his mother and Madame Descoings, he 
 wore a hat that was greasy, with the nap rubbed off at the 
 edges, patched boots, a shabby overcoat, on which the red 
 ribbon scarcely showed so discolored and dirt}' was it by 
 long service at the buttonhole and by the spatterings of 
 coffee and liquors. His buckskin gloves, of a greenish 
 tinge, lasted him a long while ; and he only gave up his 
 satin neckcloth when it was ragged enough to look like 
 wadding. Mariette was the sole object of the fellow's 
 love, and her treacher}^ had greatly hardened his heart. 
 When he happened to win more than usual, or if he 
 supped with his old comrade, Giroudeau, he followed 
 some Venus of the slums, with brutal contempt for the 
 whole sex. Otherwise regular in his habits, he break- 
 fasted and dined at home and came in every night about 
 one o'clock. Three months of this horrible life restored 
 Agathe to some degree of confidence. 
 
 As for Joseph, who was working at the splendid pict- 
 ure to which he afterwards owed his reputation, he lived 
 in his atelier. On the prediction of her grandson Bixiou, 
 Madame Descoings believed in Joseph's future glory, 
 and she showed him every sort of motherly kindness ; 
 she took his breakfast to him, she did his errands, she 
 blacked his boots. The painter was never seen till 
 dinner-time, and his evenings were spent at the Cenacle 
 among his friends. He read a great deal, and gave 
 himself that deep and serious education which only 
 comes through the mind itself, and which all men of 
 talent strive after between the ages of twent}- and thirty. 
 Agathe, seeing very little of Joseph, and feeling no un- 
 easiness about him, lived only for Philippe, who gave her 
 the alternations of fears excited and terrors allayed, 
 
76 The Two Brothers. 
 
 which seem the life, as it were, of sentiment, and to be 
 as necessary to maternit}^ as to love. Desroches, who 
 came once a week to see the widow of his patron and 
 friend, gave her hopes. The Due de Maufrigneuse had 
 asked to have Philippe in his regiment ; the minister of 
 war had ordered an inquiry ; and as the name of Bridau 
 did not appear on any police list, nor on any record at 
 the Palais de Justice, Philippe would be reinstated in 
 the army early in the coming year. 
 
 To arrive at this result, Desroches set all the powers 
 that he could influence in motion. At the prefecture of 
 police he learned that Philippe spent his evenings in a 
 gambling-house ; and he thought it best to tell this fact 
 privately to Madame Descoings, exhorting her keep an 
 eye on the lieutenant-colonel, for one outbreak would 
 imperil all ; as it was, the minister of war was not likely 
 to inquire whether Philippe gambled. Once restored to 
 his rank under the flag of his country, he would perhaps 
 abandon a vice only taken up from idleness. Agathe, 
 who no longer received her friends in the evening, sat 
 in the chimnej'-corner reading her pikers, while 
 Madame Descoings consulted the cards, interpreted her 
 dreams, and applied the rules of the " cabala " to her 
 lottery ventures. This jovial fanatic never missed a 
 single drawing ; she still pursued her tre}*, — which 
 never turned up. It was nearly twent3'-one years old, 
 just approaching its majority ; on this ridiculous idea 
 the old woman now pinned her faith. One of its three 
 numbers had stayed at the bottom of all the wheels ever 
 since the institution of the lottery. Accordingly, Ma- 
 dame Descoings laid heavy stakes on that particular 
 number, as well as on all the combinations of the three 
 numbers. The last mattress remaining to her bed was 
 
The Two Brothers. 77 
 
 the place where she stored her savings ; she unsewed 
 the ticking, pat in from time to time the bit of gold 
 saved from her needs, wrapped carefully in wool, and 
 then sewed the mattress up again. She intended, at 
 the last drawing, to risk all her savings on the different 
 combinations of her treasured trey. 
 
 This passion, so universally condemned, has never 
 been fairly studied. No one has understood this opium 
 of poverty. The lottery, all-powerful fairy of the poor, 
 bestowed the gift of magic hopes. The turn of the wheel 
 which opens to the gambler a vista of gold and happi- 
 ness, lasts no longer than a flash of lightning, but the 
 lotteiy gave five days' existence to that magnificent 
 flash. What social power can to-da} T , for the sum of 
 five sous, give us five dajV happiness and launch us 
 ideally into all the joys of civilization? Tobacco, a 
 craving far more immoral than play, destroys the body, 
 attacks the mind, and stupefies a nation ; while the lotteiy 
 did nothing of the kind. This passion, moreover, was 
 forced to keep within limits by the long periods that 
 occurred between the drawings, and by the choice of 
 wheels which each investor individually clung to. 
 Madame Descoings never staked on any but the M wheel 
 of Paris." Full of confidence that the trey cherished 
 for twenty-one years was about to triumph, she now 
 imposed upon herself enormous privations, that she 
 might stake a large amount of savings upon the last 
 drawing of the year. When she dreamed her cabalistic 
 visions (for all dreams did not correspond with the 
 numbers of the lottery), she went and told them to 
 Joseph, who was the sole being who would listen, and 
 not only not scold her, but give her the kindly words 
 with which an artist knows how to soothe the follies of 
 
78 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the mind. All great talents respect and understand a 
 real passion ; the}' explain it to themselves by finding 
 the roots of it in their own hearts or minds. Joseph's 
 idea was, that his brother loved tobacco and liquors, 
 Maman Descoings loved her trey, his mother loved 
 God, Desroches the younger loved lawsuits, Desroches 
 the elder loved angling, — in short, all the world, he 
 said, loved something. He himself loved the beau ideal 
 in all things ; he loved the poetry of Lord B}Ton, the 
 painting of Gericault, the music of Rossini, the novels 
 of Walter Scott. " Eveiy one to his taste, maman," 
 he would say ; " but your trey does hang fire terribly." 
 
 "It will turn up, and you will be rich, and nry little 
 Bixiou as well." 
 
 " Give it all to your grandson," cried Joseph ; " at 
 any rate, do what you like best with it." 
 
 "He}'! when it turns up I shall have enough for 
 everybody. In the first place, }xm shall have a fine 
 atelier ; 3011 sha'n't deprive } T ourself of going to the 
 opera sq as to pay for 3'our models and your colors. 
 Do 30U know, my dear bo}', 30U make me play a pretty 
 shabby part in that picture of 3'ours ? " 
 
 By way of econoim', Joseph had made the Descoings 
 pose for his magnificent picture of a young courtesan 
 taken bj T an old woman to a Doge of Venice. This 
 picture, one of the masterpieces of modern painting, 
 was mistaken by Gros himself for a Titian, and it paved 
 the way for the recognition which the younger artists 
 gave to Joseph's talent in the Salon of 1823. 
 
 "Those who know } T ou know very well what 3011 
 are," he answered gaylj\ "Why need }*ou trouble 
 yourself about those who don't know you?" 
 
 For the last ten yean Madame Descoings had taken 
 
The Two Brothers. 79 
 
 on the ripe tints of a russet apple at Easter. Wrinkles 
 had formed in her superabundant flesh, now grown pal- 
 lid and flabby. Her eyes, full of life, were bright with 
 thoughts that were still young and vivacious, and might 
 be considered grasping ; for there is always something 
 of that spirit in a gambler. Her fat face bore traces of 
 dissimulation and of the mental reservations hidden in 
 the depths of her heart. Her vice necessitated secresy. 
 There were also indications of gluttony in the motion 
 of her lips. And thus, although she was, as we have 
 seen, an excellent and upright woman, the eye might 
 be misled by her appearance. She was an admirable 
 model for the old woman Joseph wished to paint. Co- 
 ralie, a young actress of exquisite beauty who died in 
 the flower of her youth, the mistress of Lucien de Ru- 
 bempre, one of Joseph's friends, had given him the idea 
 of the picture. This noble painting has been called a 
 plagiarism of other pictures, while in fact it was a splen- 
 did arrangement of three portraits. Michel Chrestien, 
 one of his companions at the Cenacle, lent his republi- 
 can head for the senator, to which Joseph added a few 
 mature tints, just as he exaggerated the expression of 
 Madame Deseoings's features. This fine picture, which 
 was destined to make a great noise and bring the art- 
 ist much hatred, jealousj-, and admiration, was just 
 sketched out ; but, compelled as he was to work for a 
 living, he laid it aside to make copies of the old masters 
 for the dealers ; thus he penetrated the secret of their 
 processes, and his brush is therefore one of the best 
 trained of the modern school. The shrewd sense of an 
 artist led him to conceal the profits he was beginning io 
 lay by from his mother and Madame Descoings, aware 
 that each had her road to ruin, — the one in Philippe, 
 
80 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the other in the lottery. This astuteness is seldom 
 wanting among painters ; busy for clays together in the 
 solitude of their studios, engaged in work which, up to 
 a certain point, leaves the mind free, they are in some 
 respects like women, — their thoughts turn about the 
 little events of life, and they contrive to get at their 
 hidden meaning. 
 
 Joseph had bought one of those magnificent chests 
 or coffers of a past age, then ignored by fashion, with 
 which he decorated a corner of his studio, where the light 
 danced upon the bas-reliefs and gave full lustre to a 
 masterpiece of the sixteenth century artisans. He saw 
 the necessity for a hiding-place, and in this coffer he had 
 begun to accumulate a little store of money. With an 
 artist's carelessness, he was in the habit of putting the 
 sum he allowed for his monthly expenses in a skull, 
 which stood on one of the compartments of the coffer. 
 Since his brother had returned to live at home, he found 
 a constant discrepancy between the amount he spent 
 and the sum in this receptacle. The hundred francs a 
 month disappeared with incredible celerity. Finding 
 nothing one day, when he had only spent forty to fifty 
 francs, he remarked for the first time: "My money 
 must have got wings." The next month he paid more 
 attention to his accounts ; but add as he might, like 
 Robert Macaire, sixteen and five are twenty-three, 
 he could make nothing of them. When, for the third 
 time, he found a still more important discrepancy, he 
 communicated the painful fact to Madame Descoings, 
 who loved him, he knew, with that maternal, tender, 
 confiding, credulous, enthusiastic love that he had never 
 had from his own mother, good as she was, — a love as 
 necessary to the early life of an artist as the care of the 
 
" TJie Tivo Brothers. 81 
 
 hen is to her unfledged chickens. To her alone could 
 he confide his horrible suspicions. He was as sure of 
 his friends as he was of himself; and the Descoings, he 
 knew, would take nothing to put in her lottery. At the 
 idea which then suggested itself the poor woman wrung 
 her hands. Philippe alone could have committed this 
 domestic theft. 
 
 "Why didn't he ask me, if he wanted it?" cried Jo- 
 seph, taking a dab of color on his palette and stirring it 
 into the other colors without seeing what he did. " Is 
 it likely I should refuse him?" 
 
 "It is robbing a child ! " cried the Descoings, her 
 face expressing the deepest disgust. 
 
 ** No," replied Joseph, " he is my brother ; my purse 
 is his : but he ought to have asked me." 
 
 "Put in a special sum, in silver, this morning, and 
 don't take anything out," said Madame Descoings. "I 
 shall know who goes into the studio ; and if he is the 
 only one, 3*011 will be certain it is he." 
 
 The next day Joseph had proof of his brother's forced 
 loans upon him. Philippe came to the studio when his 
 brother was out and took the little sum he wanted. 
 The artist trembled for his hidden savings. 
 
 " I '11 catch him at it, the scamp ! " he said, laughing, 
 to Madame Descoings. 
 
 1 ' And you '11 do right : we ought to break him of it. 
 I, too, I have missed little sums out of my purse. Poor 
 bo3 r ! he wants tobacco ; he 's accustomed to it." 
 
 "Poor boy! poor boy!" cried the artist. "I'm 
 rather of Fulgence and Bixiou's opinion : Philippe is a 
 dead-weight on us. He runs his head into riots and 
 has to be shipped to America, and that costs the mother 
 twelve thousand francs ; he can't find anything to do in 
 
 (» 
 
82 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the forests of the New World, and so he comes back 
 again, and that costs twelve thousand more. Under 
 pretence of having carried two words of Napoleon to a 
 general, he thinks himself a great soldier and makes 
 faces at the Bourbons; meantime, what does he do? 
 amuse himself, travel about, see foreign countries ! As 
 for me, I 'm not duped by his misfortunes ; he does n't 
 look like a man who fails to get the best of things ! 
 Somebody finds him a good place, and there he is, lead- 
 ing the life of a Sardanapalus with a ballet-girl, and 
 guzzling the funds of his journal ; that costs the mother 
 another twelve thousand francs ! I don't care two 
 straws for myself, but Philippe will bring that poor 
 woman to beggary. He thinks I 'm of no account be- 
 cause I was never in the dragoons of the Guard ; but 
 perhaps I shall be the one to support that poor dear 
 mother in her old age, while he, if he goes on as he 
 does, will end I don't know how. Bixiou often says to 
 me, l He is a downright rogue, that brother of yours.' 
 Your grandson is right. Philippe will be up to some 
 mischief that will compromise the honor of the family, 
 and then we shall have to scrape up another ten or 
 twelve thousand francs ! He gambles every night ; 
 when he comes home, drunk as a templar, he drops 
 on the staircase the pricked cards on which he marks 
 the turns of the red and black. Old Desroches is try- 
 ing to get him baek into the army, and, on my word of 
 honor, I believe he would hate to serve again. Would 
 you ever have believed that a boy with such heaventy 
 blue eyes and the look of Bayard could turn out such a 
 scoundrel ? " 
 
The Two Brothers. 83 
 
 In spite of the coolness and discretion with which 
 Philippe played his trifling game eveiy night, it hap- 
 pened every now and then that he was what gamblers 
 call "cleaned out." Driven by the irresistible necessity 
 of having his evening stake of ten francs, he plundered 
 the household, and laid hands on his brother's mone}- 
 and on all that Madame Descoings or Agathe left about. 
 Already the poor mother had had a dreadful vision in 
 her first sleep : Philippe entered the room and took 
 from the pockets of her gown all the money he could 
 find. Agathe pretended to sleep, but she passed the 
 rest of the night in tears. She saw the truth only too 
 clearly. " One wrong act is not vice," Madame Des- 
 coings had declared ; but after so many repetitions, vice 
 was unmistakable. Agathe could doubt no longer ; her 
 best-beloved son had neither delicacy nor honor. 
 
 On the morrow of that frightful vision, before Philippe 
 left the house after breakfast, she drew him into her 
 chamber and begged him, in a tone of entreat}*, to ask 
 her for what money he needed. After that, the appli- 
 cations were so numerous that in two weeks Agathe 
 was drained of all her savings. She was literally with- 
 out a penny, and began to think of finding work. The 
 means of earning money had been discussed in the 
 evenings between herself and Madame Descoings, and 
 she had already taken patterns of worsted work to 
 fill in, from a shop called the " Pere de Famille," — an 
 
84 The Two Brothers. 
 
 employment which pays about twent}' sous a daj\ Not- 
 withstanding Agathe's silence on the subject, Madame 
 Descoings had guessed the motive of this desire to earn 
 monej- by women's-work. The change in her appear- 
 ance was eloquent : her fresh face had withered, the skin 
 clung to the temples and the cheek-bones, and the fore- 
 head showed deep lines ; her eyes lost their clearness ; 
 an inward fire was evidently consuming her ; she wept 
 the greater part of the night. A chief cause of these 
 outward ravages was the necessity of hiding her an- 
 guish, her sufferings, her apprehensions. She never 
 went to sleep until Philippe came in ; she listened for 
 his step, she had learned the inflections of his voice, the 
 variations of his walk, the very language of his cane as 
 it touched the pavement. Nothing escaped her. She 
 knew the degree of drunkenness he had reached, she 
 trembled as she heard him stumble on the stairs ; one 
 night she picked up some pieces of gold at the spot where 
 he had fallen. When he had drunk and won, his voice 
 was gruff and his cane dragged ; but when he had lost, 
 his step had something sharp, short, and angry about 
 it ; he hummed in a clear voice, and carried his cane in 
 the air as if presenting arms. At breakfast, if he had 
 won, his behavior was ga} r and even affectionate ; he joked 
 roughly, but still he joked, with Madame Descoings, 
 with Joseph, and with his mother; gloomy, on the con- 
 trary, when he had lost, his brusque, rough speech, his 
 hard glance, and his depression, frightened them. A 
 life of debauch and the abuse of liquors debased, day by 
 day, a countenance that was once so handsome. The 
 veins of the face were swollen with blood, the features 
 became coarse, the eves lost their lashes and grew hard 
 and dry. No longer careful of his person, Philippe 
 
The Two Brothers. 85 
 
 exhaled the miasmas of a tavern and the smell of 
 mudd}' boots, which, to an observer, stamped him with 
 debauchery. 
 
 4 'You ought," said Madame Descoings to Philippe 
 during the last days of December, "you ought to get 
 3'ourself new-clothed from head to foot." 
 
 44 And who is to pa}' for it?" he answered sharply. 
 4 4 My poor mother has n't a sou ; and I have five hun- 
 dred francs a year. It would take my whole year's pen- 
 sion to pay for the clothes ; besides I have mortgaged 
 it for three years — " 
 
 44 What for? " asked Joseph. 
 
 " A debt of honor. Giroudeau borrowed a thousand 
 francs from Florentine to lend me. I am not gorgeous, 
 that's a fact ; but when one thinks that Napoleon is at 
 Saint Helena, and has sold his plate for the means of 
 living, his faithful soldiers can manage to walk upon 
 their bare feet," he said, showing his boots without 
 heels, as lie marched away. 
 
 44 He is not bad," said Agathe, 44 he has good feel- 
 ings." 
 
 " You can love the Emperor and yet dress yourself 
 properly," said Joseph. 44 If he would take any care 
 of himself and his clothes, he would n't look so like a 
 vagabond." 
 
 44 Joseph ! you ought to have some indulgence for 
 your brother," cried Agathe. 4fc You do the things yon 
 like, while he is certainly not in his right place." 
 
 44 What did he leave it for?" demanded Joseph. 
 What can it matter to him whether Louis the Eigh- 
 teenth's bugs or Napoleon's cuckoos are on the flag, if 
 it is the flag of his country? France is France! For 
 my part, I 'd paint for the devil. A soldier ought to 
 
86 The Two Brothers. 
 
 fight, if he is a soldier, for the love of his art. If he 
 had sta} T ed quietly in the arnrv, he would have been a 
 general by this time." 
 
 "You are unjust to him," said Agathe, "30111* father, 
 who adored the Emperor, would have approved of his 
 conduct. However, he has consented to re-enter the 
 army. God knows the grief it has caused your brother 
 to do a thing he considers treachery." 
 
 Joseph rose to return to his studio, but his mother 
 took his hand and said : — 
 
 44 Be good to your brother ; he is so unfortunate." 
 
 When the artist got back to his painting-room, fol- 
 lowed by Madame Descoings, who begged him to hu- 
 mor his mother's feelings, and pointed out to him how 
 changed she was, and what inward suffering the change 
 revealed, they found Philippe there, to their great 
 amazement. 
 
 ••Joseph, my bo3 T ," he said, in an off-hand way, "I 
 want some mone}\ Confound it ! I owe thirty* francs 
 for cigars at my tobacconist's, and I dare not pass the 
 cursed shop till I 've paid it. I 've promised to pay it 
 a dozen times." 
 
 " Well, I like your present wa}* best," said Joseph ; 
 44 take what you want out of the skull." 
 
 " I took all there was last night, after dinner." 
 
 "There was forty-five franes." 
 
 " Yes, that's what I made it," replied Philippe. M I 
 took them ; is there any objection? " 
 
 "No, my friend, no," said Joseph. "If you were 
 rich, I should do the same by you ; only, before taking 
 what I wanted, I should ask 3011 if it were convenient." 
 
 44 It is very humiliating to ask," remarked Philippe ; 
 44 1 would rather see 30U taking as I do, without a 
 
The Two Brothers. 87 
 
 word ; it shows more confidence. In the army, if a 
 comrade dies, and has a good pair of boots, and you 
 have a bad pair, you change, that's all." 
 
 "Yes, but } T ou don't take them while he is living." 
 
 " Oh, what meanness ! " said Philippe, shrugging his 
 shoulders. " Well, so you have n't got any money ? " 
 
 " No," said Joseph, who was determined not to show 
 his hiding-place. 
 
 "In a few days we shall be rich," said Madame 
 Descoings. 
 
 " Yes, you ; you think your trej' is going to turn up 
 on the 2oth at the Paris drawing. You must have put 
 in a fine stake if you think you can make us all rich." 
 
 "A paid-up trey of two hundred francs will give 
 three millions, without counting the couplets and the 
 singles." 
 
 " At fifteen thousand times the stake — yes, you are 
 right ; it is just two hundred you must pay up ! " cried 
 Philippe. 
 
 Madame Descoings bit her lips ; she knew she had 
 spoken imprudently. In fact, Philippe was asking him- 
 self as he went downstairs : — 
 
 1 ' That old witch ! where does she keep her money ? 
 It is as good as lost; I can make a better use of it. 
 With four pools at fifty francs each, I could win two 
 hundred thousand francs, and that's much surer than 
 the turning up of a trey." 
 
 He tried to think where the old woman was likefy to 
 have hid the money. On the days preceding festivals, 
 Agathe went to church and stayed there a long time ; 
 no doubt she confessed and prepared for the commu- 
 nion. It was now the day before Christmas ; Madame 
 Descoings would certainty go out to bu} 7 some dainties 
 
88 The Two Brothers. 
 
 for the reveillon, the midnight meal ; and she might 
 also take occasion to pay up her stake. The lottery 
 was drawn every five days in different localities, at 
 Bordeaux, Lyons, Lille, Strasburg, and Paris. The Paris 
 lottery was drawn on the twenty-fifth of each month, 
 and the lists closed on the twenty-fourth, at midnight- 
 Philippe studied all these points and set himself to 
 watch. He came home at midday ; the Descoings had 
 gone out, and had taken the key of the appartement. 
 But that was no difficulty. Philippe pretended to have 
 forgotten something, and asked the concierge to go her- 
 self and get a locksmith, who lived close by, and who 
 came at once and opened the door. The villain's first 
 thought was the bed ; he uncovered it, passed his hands 
 over the mattress before he examined the bedstead, and 
 at the lower end felt the pieces wrapped up in paper. 
 He at once ripped the ticking, picked out twenty na- 
 poleons, and then, without taking time to sew up the 
 mattress, re-made the bed neatly enough, so that Ma- 
 dame Descoings could suspect nothing. 
 
 The gambler stole off with a light foot, resolving to 
 play at three different times, three hours apart, aud 
 each time for only ten minutes. Thorough-going play- 
 ers, ever since 1786, the time at which public gaming- 
 houses were established, — the true players whom the 
 government dreaded, and w 7 ho ate up, to use a gambling 
 term, the money of the bank, — never played in any other 
 way. But before attaining this measure of experience 
 they lost fortunes. The whole science of gambling- 
 houses and their gains rests upon three things : the 
 impassibility of the bank ; the even results called 
 "drawn games," when half the money goes to the 
 bank ; and the notorious bad faith authorized by the 
 
The Two Brothers. 89 
 
 government, in refusing to hold or pa} T the players 
 stakes except optionally. In a word, the gambling- 
 house, which refuses the game of a rich and cool player, 
 devours the fortune of the foolish and obstinate one, 
 who is carried awa} T by the rapid movement of the 
 machinery of the game. The croupiers at trente et 
 quarante move nearly as fast as the ball. 
 
 Philippe had ended by acquiring the sang-froid of a 
 commanding general, which enables him to keep his 
 eye clear and his mind prompt in the midst of tumult. 
 He had reached that statesmanship of gambling which 
 in Paris, let us sa} T in passing, is the livelihood of thou- 
 sands who are strong enough to look every night into 
 an abyss without getting a vertigo. With his four 
 hundred francs, Philippe resolved to make his fortune 
 that day. He put aside, in his boots, two hundred 
 francs, and kept the other two hundred in his pocket. 
 At three o'clock he went to the gambling- house (which 
 is now turned into the theatre of the Palais-Royal), 
 where the bank accepted the largest sums. He came 
 out half an hour later with seven thousand francs in his 
 pocket. Then he went to see Florentine, paid the five 
 hundred francs which he owed to her, and proposed a 
 supper at the Rocher de Cancale after the theatre. 
 Returning to his game, along the rue de Sentier, he 
 stopped at Giroudeau's newspaper-office to notif\- him 
 of the gala. By six o'clock Philippe had won twent}- 
 five thousand francs, and stopped playing at the end of 
 ten minutes as he had promised himself to do. That 
 night, by ten o'clock, he had won seventy-five thou- 
 sand francs. After the supper, which was magnificent, 
 Philippe, by that time drunk and confident, went back 
 to his play at midnight. In defiance of the rule he 
 
90 The Two Brothers. 
 
 had imposed upon himself, he played for an hour and 
 doubled his fortune. The bankers, from whom, by his 
 system of playing, he had extracted one hundred and 
 fifty thousand francs, looked at him with curiosity. 
 
 "Will he go away now, or will he stay?" they said 
 to each other 03- a glance. " If he stays he is lost." 
 
 Philippe thought he had struck a vein of luck, and 
 stayed. Towards three in the morning, the hundred 
 and fifty thousand francs had gone back to the bank. 
 The colonel, who had imbibed a considerable quantity 
 of grog while playing, left the place in a drunken 
 state, which the cold of the outer air only increased. 
 A waiter from the gambling-house followed him, picked 
 him up, and took him to one of those horrible houses at 
 the door of which, on a hanging lamp, are the words : 
 "Lodgings for the night." The waiter paid for the 
 ruined gambler, who was put to bed, where he remained 
 till Christmas night. The managers of gambling-houses 
 have some consideration for their customers, especially 
 for high players. Philippe woke about seven o'clock in 
 the evening, his mouth parched, his face swollen, and he 
 himself in the grip of a nervous fever. The strength of 
 his constitution enabled him to get home on foot, where 
 meanwhile he had, without willing it, brought mourning, 
 desolation, povert}*, and death. 
 
 The evening before, when dinner was read}', Madame 
 Descoings and Agathe expected Philippe. They waited 
 dinner till seven o'clock. Agathe always went to bed 
 at ten ; but as, on this occasion, she wished to be pres- 
 ent at the midnight mass, she went to lie down as soon 
 as dinner was over. Madame Descoings and Joseph 
 remained alone by the fire in the little salon, which 
 served for all, and the old woman asked the painter to 
 
The Two Brothers. 91 
 
 add up the amount of her great stake, her monstrous 
 stake, on the famous trey, whieh she was to pa} T that 
 evening at the Lotter}* office. She wished to put in for 
 the doubles and singles as well, so as to seize all chances. 
 After feasting on the poetry of her hopes, and pouring 
 the two horns of plenty at the feet of her adopted son, 
 and relating to him her dreams which demonstrated the 
 certainty of success, she felt no other uneasiness than 
 the difficulty of bearing such joy, and waiting from mid- 
 night until ten o'clock of the morrow, when the winning 
 numbers were declared. Joseph, who saw nothing of the 
 four hundred francs necessary to pay up the stakes, asked 
 about them. The old woman smiled, and led him into 
 the former salon, which was now her bed-chamber. 
 
 " You shall see," she said. 
 
 Madame Descoings hastily unmade the bed, and 
 searched for her scissors to rip the mattress ; she put on 
 her spectacles, looked at the ticking, saw the hole, and 
 let fall the mattress. Hearing a sigh from the depths 
 of the old woman's breast, as though she were strangled 
 with a rush of blood to the heart, Joseph instinctively 
 held out his arms to catch the poor creature, and placed 
 her fainting in a chair, calling to his mother to come to 
 them. Agathe rose, slipped on her dressing-gown, and 
 ran in. By the light of a candle, she applied the ordi- 
 nary remedies, — eau-de-cologne to the temples, cold 
 water to the forehead, a burnt feather under the nose, 
 — and presently her aunt revived. 
 
 " They were there this morning ; he has taken them, 
 the monster ! " she said. 
 
 " Taken what?" asked Joseph. 
 
 " I had twenty louis in my mattress ; my savings for 
 two years ; no one but Philippe could have taken them." 
 
92 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " But when ?" cried the poor mother, overwhelmed, 
 " he has not been in since breakfast." 
 
 " I wish I might bs mistaken," said the old woman. 
 "But this morning in Joseph's studio, when I spoke 
 before Philippe of my stakes, I had a presentiment. I 
 did wrong not to go down and take my little all and 
 pay for my stakes at once. I meant to, and I don't 
 know what prevented me. Oh, yes ! — my God ! I 
 went out to huy him some cigars." 
 
 " But," said Joseph, " you left the door locked. Be- 
 sides, it is so infamous, I can't believe it. Philippe 
 could n't have watched you, cut open the mattress, done 
 it deliberatelj*, — no, no ! " 
 
 " I felt them this morning, when I made my bed after 
 breakfast," repeated Madame Descoings. 
 
 Agathe, horrified, went down stairs and asked if 
 Philippe had come in during the da}'. The concierge 
 related the tale of his return and the locksmith. The 
 mother, heart-stricken, went back a changed woman. 
 White as the linen of her chemise, she walked as we 
 might fancy a spectre walks, slowly, noiselessly, moved 
 b} T some superhuman power, and yet mechanically. 
 She held a candle in her hand, whose light fell full 
 upon her face and showed her eyes, fixed with horror. 
 Unconsciously, her hands by a desperate movement 
 had dishevelled the hair about her brow ; and this made 
 her so beautiful with anguish that Joseph stood rooted 
 in awe at the apparition of that remorse, the vision of 
 that statue of terror and despair. 
 
 " M3' aunt," she said, "take my silver forks and 
 spoons, I have enough to make up the sum ; I took your 
 money for Philippe's sake ; I thought I could put it back 
 before you missed it. Oh ! I have suffered much." 
 
The Two Brothers. 93 
 
 She sat down. Her dry, fixed eyes wandered a 
 little 
 
 4 .' It was he who did it," whispered the old woman to 
 Joseph. 
 
 '* No, no," cried Agathe ; " take my silver plate, sell 
 it ; it is useless to me ; we can eat with yours." 
 
 She went to her room, took the box which contained 
 the plate, felt its light weight, opened it, and saw a 
 pawnbroker's ticket. The poor mother uttered a 
 dreadful c^. Joseph and the Descoings ran to her, 
 saw the empt\ T box, and her noble falsehood was of no 
 avail. All three were silent, and avoided looking at 
 each other ; but the next moment, 03- an almost frantic 
 gesture, Agathe laid her finger on her lips as if to en- 
 treat a secrecy no one desired to break. They returned 
 to the salon, and sat beside the fire. 
 
 " Ah ! my children," cried Madame Descoings, "lam 
 stabbed to the heart : my trey will turn up, I am cer- 
 tain of it. I am not thinking of mj'self, but of you 
 two. Philippe is a monster," she continued, addressing 
 her niece ; " he does not love you after all that you have 
 done for him. If you do not protect yourself against 
 him he will bring 3 t ou to beggary. Promise me to sell 
 out your Funds and buy a life-annuity. Joseph has a 
 good profession and he can live. If you will do this, 
 dear Agathe, you will never be an expense to Joseph. 
 Monsieur Desroches has just started his son as a notary ; 
 he would take your twelve thousand francs and pay you 
 an annuity." 
 
 Joseph seized his mother's candlestick, rushed up to 
 his studio, and came down with three hundred francs. 
 
 " Here, Maman Descoings ! " he cried, giving her his 
 little store, "it is no business of ours what }*ou do with 
 
94 The Two Brothers. 
 
 your money ; we owe }ou what you have lost, and here 
 it is, almost in full." 
 
 M Take your poor little all ? — the fruit of those priva- 
 tions that have made me so unhappy ! are you mad, 
 Joseph?" cried the old woman, visibly torn between her 
 dogged faith in the coming trey, and the sacrilege of 
 accepting such a sacrifice. 
 
 "Oh! take it if you like," said Agathe, who was 
 moved to tears by this action of her true son. 
 
 Madame Descoings took Joseph by the head, and 
 kissed him on the forehead : — 
 
 " My child," she said, " don't tempt me. I might only 
 lose it. The lottery, you see, is all folly." 
 
 No more heroic words were ever uttered in the hidden 
 dramas of domestic life. It was, indeed, affection 
 triumphant over inveterate vice. At this instant, the 
 clocks struck midnight. 
 
 " It is too late now," said Madame Descoings. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Joseph, "here are jour cabalistic 
 numbers." 
 
 The artist sprang at the paper, and rushed headlong 
 down the staircase to pay the stakes. When he was no 
 longer present, Agathe and Madame Descoings burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " He has gone, the dear love," cried the old gambler ; 
 " but it shall all be his ; he pays his own money." 
 
 Unhappily, Joseph did not know the way to an}- of the 
 lottery-offices, which in those daj*s were as well known 
 to most people as the cigarshops to a smoker in ours. 
 The painter ran along, reading the street names upon 
 the lamps. When he asked the passers-by to show 
 him a lottery - office, he was told they were all closed, 
 except the one under the portico of the Palais-Roy 
 
 ed, 
 
 yal 
 
The Two Brothers. <>5 
 
 which was sometimes kept open a little later. He flew 
 to the Palais-Royal : the office was shut. 
 
 " Two minutes earlier, and you might have paid your 
 stake," said one of the vendors of tickets, whose beat 
 was under the portico, where he vociferated this singu- 
 lar cry: "Twelve hundred francs for forty sous," 
 and offered tickets all paid up. 
 
 By the glimmer of the street-lamp and the lights of 
 the cafe de la Rotonde, Joseph examined these tickets 
 to see if, by chance, any of them bore the Descoings's 
 numbers. He found none, and returned home grieved 
 at having done his best in vain for the old woman, to 
 whom he related his ill-luck. Agathe and her aunt 
 went together to the midnight mass at Saint-Germain- 
 des-Pres. Joseph went to bed. The collation did not 
 take place. Madame Descoings had lost her head ; 
 and in Agathe's heart was eternal mourning. 
 
 The two rose late on Christmas morning. Ten 
 o'clock had struck before Madame Descoings began to 
 bestir herself about the breakfast, which was only ready 
 at half-past eleven. At that hour, the oblong frames 
 containing the winning numbers are hung over the doors 
 of the lottery- offices. If Madame Descoings had paid 
 her stake and held her ticket, she would have gone Iry 
 half-past nine o'clock to learn her fate at a building 
 close to the ministry of Finance, in the rue Neuve-des- 
 Petits Champs, a situation now occupied by the Theatre 
 Ventadour in the place of the same name. On the 
 days when the drawings took place, an observer might 
 watch with curiositj' the crowd of old women, cooks, 
 and old men assembled about the door of this build- 
 ing ; a sight as remarkable as the cue of people about 
 the Treasury on the days when the dividends are paid. 
 
90 The Two Brothers. 
 
 41 Well, here you are, rolling in wealth !" said old 
 Desroches, coming into the room just as the Descoings 
 was swallowing her last drop of coffee. 
 
 44 What do you mean? " cried poor Agathe. 
 
 44 Her trey has turned up," he said, producing the 
 list of numbers written on a bit of paper, such as the 
 officials of the lottery put by hundreds in little wooden 
 bowls on their counters. 
 
 Joseph read the list. Agathe read the list. The 
 Descoings read nothing ; she was struck down as by a 
 thunderbolt. At the change in her face, at the cry she 
 gave, old Desroches and Joseph carried her to her bed. 
 Agathe went for a doctor. The poor woman was 
 seized with apoplex} T , and she only recovered con- 
 sciousness at four in the afternoon ; old Haudry, her 
 doctor, then said that, in spite of this improvement, she 
 ought to settle her worldly affairs and think of her 
 salvation. She herself only uttered two words : — 
 
 " Three millions ! " 
 
 Old Desroches, informed by Joseph, with due reser- 
 vations, of the state of things, related many instances 
 where lottery-players had seen a fortune escape them 
 on the very day when, by some fatality, they had 
 forgotten to pay their stakes ; but he thoroughly under- 
 stood that such a blow might be fatal when it came 
 after twenty 3'ears' perseverance. About five o'clock, 
 as a deep silence reigned in the little appartement, and 
 the sick woman, watched by Joseph and his mother, the 
 one sitting at the foot, the other at the head of her bed, 
 was expecting her grandson Bixiou, whom Desroches had 
 gone to fetch, the sound of Philippe's step and cane 
 resounded on the staircase. 
 
 44 There he is! there he is!" cried the Descoings, 
 
The Two Brothers. 97 
 
 sitting up in bed, and suddenly able to use her para- 
 lyzed tongue. 
 
 Agathe and Joseph were deeply impressed by this 
 powerful effect of the horror which violently agitated 
 the old woman. Their painful suspense was soon ended 
 by the sight of Philippe's convulsed and purple face, 
 his staggering walk, and the horrible state of his eyes, 
 which were deeply sunken, dull, and yet haggard ; he 
 had a strong chill upon him, and his teeth chattered. 
 
 "Starvation in Prussia!" he cried, looking about 
 him. " Nothing to eat or drink? — and my throat on 
 fire! Well, what's the matter? The devil is always 
 meddling in our affairs. There 's my old Descoings in 
 bed, looking at me with her eyes as big as saucers." 
 
 " Be silent, monsieur! " said Agathe, rising. 4t At 
 least, respect the sorrows you have caused." 
 
 "Monsieur, indeed!" he cried, looking at his 
 mother. " My dear little mother, that won't do. 
 Have you ceased to love }*our son?" 
 
 " Are you worthy of love? Have you forgotten what 
 3 r ou did yesterday ? Go and find yourself another home ; 
 3'ou cannot live with us an\ r longer, — that is, after 
 to-morrow," she added; " for in the state you are in 
 now it is difficult — " 
 
 14 To turn me out, — is that it?" he interrupted. 
 "Ha! are you going to play the melodrama of w The 
 Banished Son ' ? Well done ! is that how you take 
 things? You are all a pretty set ! What harm have I 
 done? I've cleaned out the old woman's mattress. 
 What the devil is the good of money kept in wool? 
 Do you call that a crime ? Did n't she take twenty thou- 
 sand francs from 3 ou ? We are her creditors, and I 've 
 paid myself as much as I could get, — that 's all." 
 
 7 
 
98 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " My God ! my God!" cried the dying woman, 
 clasping her hands and praying. 
 
 "Be silent!" exclaimed Joseph, springing at his 
 brother and putting his hand before his mouth. 
 
 "To the right about, march! brat of a painter!" 
 retorted Philippe, laying his strong hand on Joseph's 
 head, and twirling him round, as he flung him on a 
 sofa. *' Don't dare to touch the moustache of a 
 commander of a squadron of the dragoons of the 
 Guard ! " 
 
 " She has paid me back all that she owed me," 
 cried Agatlie, rising and turning an angty face to her 
 son ; " and besides, that is my affair. You have killed 
 her. Go away, my son," she added, with a gesture that 
 took all her remaining strength, " and never let me see 
 you again. You are a monster." 
 
 "I kill her?" 
 
 " Her trey has turned up," cried Joseph, " and you 
 stole the mone}' for her stake." 
 
 " Well, if she is dying of a lost trey, it is n't I who 
 have killed her," said the drunkard. 
 
 " Go, go ! " said Agathe. " You fill me with horror ; 
 you have eveiy vice. M3* God ! is this my son ? " 
 
 A hollow rattle sounded in Madame Descoings's 
 throat, increasing Agathe's anger. 
 
 "I love you still, nry mother, — you who are the 
 cause of all my misfortunes," said Philippe. " You 
 turn me out of doors on Christmas-day. What did 
 you do to grandpapa Rouget, to your father, that he 
 should drive you away and disinherit you? If you had 
 not displeased him, we should all be rich now, and I 
 should not be reduced to misery. What did you do to 
 your father, — you who are a good woman ? You see 
 
The Two Brothers. 99 
 
 by your own self, I may be a good fellow and yet be 
 turned out of house and home, — I, the glory of the 
 family — " 
 
 " The disgrace of it ! " cried the Descoings. 
 
 " You shall leave this room, or you shall kill me ! " 
 cried Joseph, springing on his brother with the fury of 
 a lion. 
 
 " My God ! my God ! " cried Agathe, trying to 
 separate the brothers. 
 
 At this moment Bixiou and Haudry the doctor en- 
 tered. Joseph had just knocked his brother over and 
 stretched him on the ground. 
 
 " He is a regular wild beast," he cried. " Don't 
 speak another word, or I'll — " 
 
 "I'll pay you for this ! " roared Philippe. 
 
 " A family explanation," remarked Bixiou. 
 
 " Lift him up," said the doctor, looking at him. 
 " He is as ill as Madame Descoings ; undress him and 
 put him to bed ; get *>ff his boots." 
 
 "That's easy to say," cried Bixiou, "but they 
 must be cut off; his legs are swollen." 
 
 Agathe took a pair of scissors. When she had cut 
 down the boots, which in those daj T s were worn outside 
 the clinging trousers, ten pieces of gold rolled on the 
 floor. 
 
 "There it is, — her mone}'," murmured Philippe. 
 " Cursed fool that I was, I forgot it. I too have 
 missed a fortune." 
 
 He was seized with a horrible delirium of fever, and 
 began to rave. Joseph, assisted by old Desroches, 
 who had come back, and b} T Bixiou, carried him to his 
 room. Doctor Haudry was obliged to write a line to 
 the Hopital de la Charite and borrow a strait- waistcoat ; 
 
100 The Two Brothers. 
 
 for the delirium ran so high as to make him fear that 
 Philippe might kill himself, — he was raving. At nine 
 o'clock calm was restored. The Abbe Loraux and 
 Desroches endeavored to comfort Agathe, who never 
 ceased to weep at her aunt's bedside. She listened to 
 them in silence, and obstinately shook her head ; 
 Joseph and the Descoings alone knew the extent and 
 depth of her inward wound. 
 
 " He will learn to do better, mother," said Joseph 
 when Desroches and Bixiou had left. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the widow, " Philippe is right, — my 
 father cursed me : I have no right to — Here, here is 
 your money," she said to Madame Descoings, adding 
 Joseph's three hundred francs to the two hundred 
 found on Philippe. " Go and see if your brother does 
 not need something," she said to Joseph. 
 
 " Will 3 r ou keep a promise made to a dying woman?" 
 asked Madame Descoings, who felt that her mind was 
 failing her. • 
 
 " Yes, aunt." 
 
 " Then swear to me to give your property to young 
 Desroches for a life annuity. M.y income ceases at 
 my death; and from what you have just said, I know 
 you will let that wretch wring the last farthing out of 
 you." 
 
 " I swear it, aunt." 
 
 The old woman died on the 31st of December, five 
 days after the terrible blow which old Desroches had 
 so innocently given her. The five hundred francs — 
 the only money in the household — were barely enough 
 to pay for her funeral. She left a small amount of 
 silver and some furniture, the value of which Madame 
 Bridau paid over to her grandson Bixiou. Reduced to 
 
The Two Brothers. 101 
 
 eight hundred francs' annuity paid to her by }'oung 
 Desroches, who had bought a business without clients, 
 and himself took the capital of twelve thousand francs, 
 Agathe gave up her appartement on the third floor, and 
 sold all her superfluous furniture. When, at the end of 
 a month, Philippe seemed to be convalescent, his mother 
 coldly explained to him that the costs of his illness had 
 taken all her ready money, that she should be obliged 
 in future to work for her living, and she urged him, 
 with the utmost kindness, to re-enter the arm} 7 and 
 support himself. 
 
 " You might have spared me that sermon," said 
 Philippe, looking at his mother with an eye that was 
 cold from utter indifference. "I have seen all along 
 that neither you nor my brother love me. I am alone 
 in the world ; I like it best ! " 
 
 " Make yourself worthy of our affection," answered 
 the poor mother, struck to the very heart, " and we 
 will give it back to you — " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " he cried, interrupting her. 
 
 He took his old hat, rubbed white at the edges, stuck 
 it over one ear, and went downstairs whistling. 
 
 " Philippe ! where are you going without any money ?" 
 cried his mother, who could not repress her tears. 
 "Here, take this — " 
 
 She held out to him a hundred francs in gold, wrapped 
 up in paper. Philippe came up the stairs he had just 
 descended, and took the money. 
 
 " Well ; won't you kiss me?" she said, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 He pressed his mother in his arms, but without the 
 warmth of feeling which was all that could give, value 
 to the embrace. 
 
102 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Where shall you go? " asked Agathe. 
 
 4 'To Florentine, Giroudeau's mistress. Ah! they 
 are real friends ! " he answered brutally. 
 
 He went away. Agathe turned back with trembling 
 limbs, and failing eyes, and aching heart. She fell 
 upon her knees, prayed God to take her unnatural 
 child into His own keeping, and abdicated her woful 
 motherhood. 
 
The Two Brothers. 103 
 
 VI. 
 
 By February, 1822, Madame Bridau had settled into 
 the attic room recently occupied b} r Philippe, which 
 was over the kitchen of her former appartement. The 
 painter's studio and bedroom was opposite, on the other 
 side of the staircase. When Joseph saw his mother 
 thus reduced, he was determined to make her as com- 
 fortable as possible. After his brother's departure he 
 assisted in the re-arrangement of the garret room, to 
 which he gave an artist's touch. He added a rug ; the 
 bed, simple in character but exquisite in taste, had 
 something monastic about it; the walls, hung with a 
 cheap glazed cotton selected with taste, of a color 
 which harmonized with the furniture which was newly 
 covered, gave the room an air of elegance and nicety. 
 In the hallway he added a double door, with a, portiere 
 to the inner one. The window was shaded by a blind 
 which gave soft tones to the light. If the poor mother's 
 life was reduced to the plainest circumstances that the 
 life of an} r woman could have in Paris, Agathe was at 
 least better off than all others in a like case, thanks to 
 her son. 
 
 To save his mother from the cruel cares of such re- 
 duced housekeeping, Joseph took her every day to dine 
 at a table-d'hote in the rue de Beaune, frequented by 
 well-bred women, deputies, and titled people, where 
 each person's dinner cost ninet}' francs a month. Hav- 
 ing nothing but the breakfast to provide, Agathe took 
 
104 The Two Brothers. 
 
 up for her son the old habits she had formerly had with 
 the father. But in spite of Joseph's pious lies, she 
 discovered the fact that her dinner was costing him 
 nearly a hundred francs a month. Alarmed at such 
 enormous expense, and not imagining that her son 
 could earn much money b} r painting naked women, she 
 obtained, thanks to her confessor, the Abbe Loraux, a 
 place worth seven hundred francs a year in a lottery- 
 office belonging to the Comtesse de Bauvan, the widow 
 of a Chouan leader. The lottery-offices of the govern- 
 ment, the lot, as one might sa\ T , of privileged widows, 
 ordinarily sufficed for the support of the family of each 
 person who managed them. But after the Restora- 
 tion the difficulty of rewarding, within the limits of 
 constitutional government, all the services rendered to 
 the cause, led to the custom of giving to reduced 
 women of title not only one but two lotterj'-offices, 
 worth, usually, from six to ten thousand francs a }ear. 
 In such cases, the widow of a general or nobleman thus 
 " protected" did not keep the lotterj'-office herself; 
 she emplo3*ed a paid manager. When these managers 
 were young men the3 r were obliged to emploj' an as- 
 sistant; for, according to law, the offices had to be 
 kept open till midnight ; moreover, the reports required 
 by the minister of finance involved considerable writ- 
 ing. The Comtesse de Bauvan, to whom the Abbe 
 Loraux explained the circumstances of the widow 
 Bridau, promised, in case her manager should leave, to 
 give the place to Agathe ; meantime she stipulated that 
 the widow should be taken as assistant, and receive a 
 sala^ of six hundred francs. Poor Agathe, who was 
 obliged to be at the office hy ten in the morning, had 
 scarcely time to get her dinner. She returned to her 
 
The Two Brothers. 105 
 
 work at seven in the evening, remaining there till mid- 
 night. Joseph never, for two years, failed to fetch his 
 mother at night, and bring her back to the rue Maza- 
 rin ; and often he went to take her to dinner ; his 
 friends frequently saw him leave the opera or some 
 brilliant salon to be punctually at midnight at the office 
 in the rue Vivienne. 
 
 Agathe soon acquired the monotonous regularity of 
 life which becomes a stay and a support to those who 
 have endured the shock of violent sorrows. In the 
 morning, after doing up her room, in which there were 
 no longer cats and little birds, she prepared the break- 
 fast at her own fire and carried it into the studio, where 
 she ate it with her son. She then arranged Joseph's 
 bedroom, put out the fire in her own chamber, and 
 brought her sewing to the studio, where she sat by the 
 little iron stove, leaving the room if a comrade or a 
 model entered it. Though she understood nothing 
 whatever of art, the silence of the studio suited her. 
 In the matter of art she made not the slightest prog- 
 ress ; she attempted no hypocrisy ; she was utterly 
 amazed at the importance the\ r all attached to color, 
 composition, drawing. When the Cenacle friends or 
 some brother-painter, like Schinner, Pierre Grassou, 
 Leon de Lora, — a very youthful rapin who was called 
 at that time Mistigris, — discussed a picture, she would 
 come back afterwards, examine it attentively, and dis- 
 cover nothing to justify their fine words and their hot 
 disputes. She made her son's shirts, she mended his 
 stockings, she even cleaned his palette, supplied him 
 with rags to wipe his brushes, and kept things in order in 
 the studio. Seeing how much thought his mother gave 
 to these little details, Joseph heaped attentions upon her 
 
106 The Two Brothers. 
 
 in return. If mother and son had no sympathies in the 
 matter of art, they were at least bound together by signs 
 of tenderness. The mother had a purpose. One morn- 
 ing as she was petting Joseph while he was sketching a 
 large picture (finished in after }^ears and never under- 
 stood), she said, as it were, casually and aloud, — 
 
 44 My God ! what is he doing? " 
 
 "Doing? who?" 
 
 44 Philippe." 
 
 "Oh, ah! he's sowing his wild oats; that fellow 
 will make something of himself b} T and by." 
 
 44 But he has gone through the lesson of poverty ; 
 perhaps it was poverty which changed him to what he 
 is. If he were prosperous he would be good — " 
 
 44 You think, my dear mother, that he suffered dur- 
 ing that journey of his. You are mistaken ; he kept 
 carnival in New York just as he does here — " 
 
 44 But if he is suffering at this moment, near to us, 
 would it not be horrible ? " 
 
 44 Yes," replied Joseph. 44 For my part. I will 
 gladly give him some money ; but I don't want to see 
 him ; he killed our poor Descoings." 
 
 44 So," resumed Agathe, 44 you would not be willing 
 to paint his portrait ? " 
 
 44 For you, dear mother, I'd suffer martyrdom. I 
 can make myself remember nothing except that he i3 
 my brother." 
 
 44 His portrait as captain of dragoons on horseback ? M 
 
 44 Yes, I've a copy of a fine horse by Gros and ] 
 have n't any use for it." 
 
 44 Well, then, go and see that friend of his and find 
 out what has become of him." 
 
 44 1 '11 go!" 
 
The Two Brothers. 107 
 
 Agathe rose ; her scissors and work fell at her feet ; 
 she went and kissed Joseph's head, and dropped two 
 tears on his hair. 
 
 " He is your passion, that fellow," said the painter. 
 " We all have our hopeless passions." 
 
 That afternoon, about four o'clock, Joseph went to 
 the rue du Sentier and found his brother, who had taken 
 Giroudeau's place. The old dragoon had been pro- 
 moted to be cashier of a weekty journal established by 
 his nephew. .Although Finot was still proprietor of 
 the other newspaper, which he had divided into shares, 
 holding all the shares himself, the proprietor and editor 
 de visu was one of his friends, named Lousteau, the 
 son of that veiy sub-delegate of Issoudun on whom the 
 Bridaus' grandfather, Doctor Rouget, had vowed ven- 
 geance ; consequently he was the nephew of Madame 
 Hochon. To make himself agreeable to his uncle, 
 Finot gave Philippe the place Giroudeau was quitting ; 
 cutting off, however, half the salary. Moreover, daily, 
 at five o'clock, Giroudeau audited the accounts and car- 
 ried awaj 7 the receipts. Coloquinte, the old veteran, who 
 was the office boy and did errands, also kept an eye on 
 the slippery Philippe ; who was, however, behaving 
 properly. A salary of six hundred francs, and the five 
 hundred of his cross sufficed him to live, all the more 
 because, living in a warm office all da}' and at the theatre 
 on a free pass every evening, he had only to provide 
 himself with food and a place to sleep in. Coloquinte 
 was departing with the stamped papers on his head, 
 and Philippe was brushing his false sleeves of green 
 linen, when Joseph entered. 
 
 " Bless me, here 's the cub ! " cried Philippe. " Well, 
 we '11 go and dine together. You shall go to the opera ; 
 
108 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Florine and Florentine have got a box. I 'm going 
 with Giroudeau ; you shall be of the party, and I '11 
 introduce you to Nathan." 
 
 He took his leaded cane, and moistened a cigar. 
 
 44 I can't accept jour invitation; I am to take our 
 mother to dine at a table d' hote." 
 
 44 Ah ! how is she, the poor, dear woman? " 
 
 M She is pretty well," answered the painter, 44 I have 
 just repainted our father's portrait, and aunt Des- 
 coings's. I have also painted my own, and I should 
 like to give our mother yours, in the uniform of the 
 dragoons of the Imperial Guard." 
 
 44 Very good." 
 
 44 You will have to come and sit." 
 
 44 I'm obliged to be in this hen-coop from nine o'clock 
 till five." 
 
 44 Two Sunda}-s will be enough." 
 
 44 So be it, little man," said Napoleon's staff officer, 
 lighting his cigar at the porter's lamp. 
 
 When Joseph related Philippe's position to his 
 mother, on their way to dinner in the rue de Beaune, 
 he felt her arm tremble in his, and jo} T lighted up her 
 worn face ; the poor soul breathed like one relieved of a 
 heavy weight. The next da}*, inspired by J03* and grati- 
 tude, she paid Joseph a number of little attentions ; 
 she decorated his studio with flowers, and bought him 
 two stands of plants. On the first Sunda} T when Phil- 
 ippe was to sit, Agathe arranged a charming breakfast 
 in the studio. She laid it all out on the table ; not 
 forgetting a flask of brandy, which, however, was 
 only half full. She herself stayed behind a screen, in 
 which she made a little hole. The ex-dragoon sent his 
 uniform the night before, and she had not refrained 
 
 I 
 
The Two Brothers. 109 
 
 from kissing it. When Philippe was placed, in ful> 
 dress, on one of those straw horses, all saddled, which 
 Joseph had hired for the occasion, Agathe, fearing to 
 betray her presence, mingled the soft sound of her tears 
 with the conversation of the two brothers. Philippe 
 posed for two hours before and two hours after break- 
 fast. At three o'clock in the afternoon, he put on his 
 ordinary clothes and, as he lighted a cigar, he proposed 
 to his brother to go and dine together in the Palais- 
 Royal, jingling gold in his pocket as he spoke. 
 
 "No," said Joseph, "it frightens me to see gold 
 about you." 
 
 " Ah ! 3'ou '11 always have a bad opinion of me in this 
 house," cried the colonel in a thundering voice. " Can't 
 I save my money, too?" 
 
 " Yes, }^es ! " cried Agathe, coming out of her hiding- 
 place, and kissing her son. U Let us go and dine with 
 him, Joseph ! " 
 
 Joseph dared not scold his mother. He went and 
 dressed himself; and Philippe took them to the Rocher 
 de Cancale, where he gave them a splendid dinner, the 
 bill for which amounted to a hundred francs. 
 
 " The devil ! " muttered Joseph uneasily ; " with an 
 income of eleven hundred francs you manage, like 
 Ponchard in the 4 Dame Blanche,' to save enough to 
 buy estates." 
 
 " Bah, I'mona run of luck," answered the dragoon, 
 who had drunk enormously. 
 
 Hearing this speech just as they were on the steps of 
 the cafe, and before they got into the carriage to go to 
 the theatre, — for Philippe was to take his mother to the 
 Cirque-Olympique (the only theatre her confessor al- 
 lowed her to visit), — Joseph pin chedJiis mo ther's arm. 
 
110 The Two Brothers. 
 
 'She at once pretended to feel unwell, and refused to go 
 to the theatre ; Philippe accordingly took them back to 
 the rue Mazarin, where, as soon as she was alone with 
 Joseph in her garret, Agathe fell into a gloomy silence. 
 
 The following Sunday Philippe came again. This 
 time his mother was visibly present at the sitting. She 
 served the breakfast, and put several questions to the 
 dragoon. She then learned that the nephew of old 
 Madame Hochon, the friend of her mother, played a 
 considerable part in literature. Philippe and his friend 
 Giroudeau lived among a circle of journalists, actresses, 
 and booksellers, where they were regarded in the light 
 of cashiers. Philippe, who had been drinking kirsch 
 before posing, was loquacious. He boasted that he was 
 about to become a great man. But when Joseph asked 
 a question as to his pecuniary resources he was dumb. 
 It so happened that there was no newspaper on the fol- 
 lowing day, it being a fete, and to finish the picture, 
 Philippe proposed to sit again on the morrow. Joseph 
 told him that the Salon was close at hand, and as he 
 did not have the money to buy two frames for the pic- 
 tures he wished to exhibit, he was forced to procure it 
 by finishing a£opy of a Rubens which had been ordered 
 hy Elie Magus, the picture-dealer. The original be- 
 longed to a wealthy Swiss banker, who had only lent it 
 for ten days, and the next day was the last ; the sitting 
 must therefore be put off till the following Sunday. 
 
 " Is that it? " asked Philippe, pointing to a picture 
 by Rubens on an easel. 
 
 "Yes," replied Joseph; "it is worth twent}' thou- 
 sand francs. That 's what genius can do. It will take me 
 all to-morrow to get the tones of the original and make 
 the copy look so old it can't be distinguished from it." 
 
The Two Brothers. Ill 
 
 " Adieu, mother," said Philippe, kissing Agathe. 
 ''Next Sunday, then." 
 
 The next day Elie Magus was to come for his copy. 
 Joseph's friend, Pierre Grassou, who was working for 
 the same dealer, wanted to see it when finished. To 
 play him a trick, Joseph, when he heard his knock, put 
 the copy, which was varnished with a special glaze of 
 his own, in place of the original, and put the original 
 on his easel. Pierre Grassou was completely taken in ; 
 and then amazed and delighted at Joseph's success. 
 
 '   Do you think it will deceive old Magus ? " he said 
 to Joseph. 
 
 " We shall see," answered the latter. 
 
 The dealer did not come as he had promised. It was 
 getting late ; Agathe dined that day with Madame Des- 
 roches, who had lately lost her husband, and Joseph 
 proposed to Pierre Grassou to dine at his table d'hote. 
 As he went out he left the key of his studio with the 
 concierge. 
 
 An hour later Philippe appeared and said to the con- 
 cierge, — 
 
 "lam to sit this evening; Joseph will be in soon, 
 and I will wait for him in the studio." 
 
 The woman gave him the key ; Philippe went up- 
 stairs, took the copy, thinking it was the original, and 
 went down again ; returned the key to the concierge 
 with the excuse that he had forgotten something, and 
 hurried off to sell his Rubens for three thousand francs. 
 He had taken the precaution to conve}* a message from 
 his brother to Elie Magus, asking him not to call till 
 the following day. 
 
 That evening when Joseph returned, bringing his 
 mother from Madame Desroches's, the concierge told 
 
112 The Two Brothers. 
 
 him of Philippe's freak, — how he had called intending 
 to wait, and gone away again immediately. 
 
 "I am ruined — unless he has had the delicac}' to 
 take the copy," cried the painter, instantly suspecting the 
 theft. He ran rapidly up the three flights and rushed 
 into his studio. "God be praised!" he ejaculated. 
 " He is, what he always has been, a vile scoundrel." 
 
 Agathe, who had followed Joseph, did not understand 
 what he was saying ; but when her son explained what 
 had happened, she stood still, with the tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 44 Have I but one son? " she said in a broken voice. 
 
 " We have never yet degraded him to the eyes of 
 strangers," said Joseph; "but we must now warn the 
 concierge. In future we shall have to keep the keys 
 ourselves. I '11 finish his blackguard face from memory ; 
 there 's not much to do to it." 
 
 ' ' Leave it as it is ; it will pain me too much ever to 
 look at it," answered the mother, heart-stricken and 
 stupefied at such wickedness. 
 
 Philippe had been told how the money for this copy 
 was to be expended ; moreover he knew the abyss into 
 which he would plunge his brother through the loss of 
 the Rubens ; but nothing restrained him. After this 
 last crime Agathe never mentioned him ; her face ac- 
 quired an expression of cold and concentrated and bit- 
 ter despair ; one thought took possession of her mind. 
 
 ik Some day," she said to herself, " we shall hear of 
 a Bridau in the police-courts." 
 
 Two months later, as Agathe was about to start for 
 her office, an old officer, who announced himself as a 
 friend of Philippe on urgent business, called on Madame 
 Bridau, who happened to be in Joseph's studio. 
 
The Two Brothers. 118 
 
 When Giroudeau gave his name, mother and son 
 trembled, and none the less because the ex-dragoon had 
 the face of a tough old sailor of the worst type. His 
 fishy gray eyes, his piebald moustache, the remains of 
 his shaggy hair fringing a skull that was the color of 
 fresh butter, all gave an indescribably debauched and 
 libidinous expression to his appearance. He wore an 
 old iron-gray overcoat decorated with the red ribbon of 
 an officer of the Legion of honor, which met with diffi- 
 cult}- over a gastronomic stomach in keeping with a 
 mouth that stretched from ear to ear, and a pair of 
 powerful shoulders. The torso was supported b}- a 
 spindling pair of legs, while the rubicund tints on the 
 cheek-bones bore testimony to a rollicking life. The 
 lower part of the cheeks, which were deeply wrinkled, 
 overhung a coat-collar of velvet the worse for wear. 
 Among other adornments, the ex-dragoon wore enor- 
 mous gold rings in his ears. 
 
 " What a noceur!" thought Joseph, using a popular 
 expression, meaning a u loose fish," which had lately 
 passed into the ateliers. 
 
 44 Madame," said Finot's uncle and cashier, "your 
 son is in so unfortunate a position that his friends find 
 it absolutely necessary to ask you to share the some- 
 what heavy expense which he is to them. He can no 
 longer do his work at the office ; and Mademoiselle 
 Florentine, of the Porte-Saint-Martin, has taken him to 
 lodge with her, in a miserable attic in the rue de Ven- 
 dome. Philippe is dying ; and if you and his brother 
 are not able to pay for the doctor and medicines, we 
 shall be obliged, for the sake of curing him, to have 
 him taken to the hospital of the Capuchins. For three 
 hundred francs we would keep him where he is. But he 
 
 8 
 
114 The Two Brothers. 
 
 must have a nurse ; for at night, when Mademoiselle 
 Florentine is at the theatre, he persists in going out, 
 and takes things that are irritating and injurious to his 
 malady and its treatment. As we are fond of him, this 
 makes us really very unhappy. The poor fellow has 
 pledged the pension of his cross for the next three 
 years ; he is temporarily displaced from his office, and 
 he has literally nothing. He will kill himself, madame, 
 unless we can put him into the private asylum of Doc- 
 tor Dubois. It is a decent hospital, where they will take 
 him for ten francs a day. Florentine and I will pay 
 half, if you will pay the rest ; it won't be for more than 
 two months." 
 
 "Monsieur, it is difficult for a mother not to be eter- 
 nally grateful to you for 3'our kindness to her son," re- 
 plied Agathe ; M but this son is banished from my heart, 
 and as for money, I have none. Not to be a burden 
 on m3 T son whom you see here, who works day and 
 night and deserves all the love his mother can give him, 
 I am the assistant in a lotteiy-office — at my age ! " 
 
 "And 3'ou, young man," said the old dragoon to 
 Joseph; "can't 3-011 do as much for 3*our brother as 
 a poor dancer at the Porte-Sainte-Martin and an old 
 soldier?" 
 
 "Look here!" said Joseph, out of patience; "do 
 3*011 want me to tell you in artist language what I think 
 of your visit? Well, you have come to swindle us on 
 false pretences." 
 
 ' ' To-morrow 3~our brother shall go to the hospital." 
 
 " And he will do ver3* well there," answered Joseph. 
 " If I were in a like case, I should go there too." 
 
 Giroudeau withdrew, much disappointed, and also 
 realty mortified at being obliged to send to a hospital 
 
The Two Brothers. 115 
 
 a man wlio had carried the Emperor's orders at the bat- 
 tle of Montereau. Three months later, at the end of 
 Jul}-, as Agathe one morning was crossing the Pont 
 Neuf to avoid paying a sou at the Pont des Arts, she 
 saw, coming along 03- the shops of the Quai de l'Ecole, 
 a man bearing all the signs of second-class poverty, 
 who, she thought, resembled Philippe. In Paris, there 
 are three distinct classes of poverty. First, the poverty 
 of the man who preserves appearances, and to whom a 
 future still belongs ; this is the poverty of young men, 
 artists, men of the world, momentarily unfortunate. 
 The outward signs of their distress are not visible, ex- 
 cept under the microscope of a close observer. These 
 persons are the equestrian order of poverty ; they con- 
 tinue to drive about in cabriolets. In the second order 
 we find old men who have become indifferent to every- 
 thing, and, in June, put the cross of the Legion of honor 
 on alpaca overcoats ; that is the poverty of small in- 
 comes, — of old clerks, who live at Sainte-Perine and 
 care no longer about their outward man. Then comes, 
 in the third place, poverty in rags, the poverty of the 
 people, the poverty that is poetic ; which Callot, Ho- 
 garth, Murillo, Charlet, Raffet, Gavarni, Meissonier, 
 Art itself adores and cultivates, especially during the 
 carnival. The man in whom poor Agathe thought she 
 recognized her son was astride the last two classes of 
 poverty. She saw the ragged neck-cloth, the scurfy 
 hat, the broken and patched boots, the threadbare coat, 
 whose buttons had shed their mould, leaving the empty 
 shrivelled pod dangling in congruity with the torn pockets 
 and the dirty collar. Scraps of flue were in the creases 
 of the coat, which showed plainly the dust that filled it. 
 The man drew from the pockets of his seam-rent iron- 
 
116 The Two Brothers. 
 
 gray trousers a pair of hands as black as those of a 
 mechanic. A knitted woollen waistcoat, discolored by 
 use, showed below the sleeves of his coat, and above 
 the trousers, and no doubt served instead of a shirt. 
 Philippe wore a green silk shade with a wire edge over 
 his eyes ; his head, which was nearty bald, the tints of 
 his skin, and his sunken face too plainly revealed that 
 he was just leaving the terrible Hopital du Midi. His 
 blue overcoat, whitened at the seams, was still decorated 
 with the ribbon of his cross ; and the passers-bj T looked 
 at the hero, doubtless some victim of the government, 
 with curiosity and commiseration ; the rosette attracted 
 notice, and the fiercest "ultra" was jealous for the 
 honor of the Legion. In those da3's, however much 
 the government endeavored to bring the Order into dis- 
 repute by bestowing its cross right and left, there were 
 not fifty-three thousand persons decorated. 
 
 Agathe trembled through her whole being. If it were 
 impossible to love this son any longer, she could still 
 suffer for him. Quivering with this last expression of 
 motherhood, she wept as she saw the brilliant staff 
 officer of the Emperor turn to enter a tobacconist's and 
 pause on the threshold ; he had felt in his pocket and 
 found nothing. Agathe left the bridge, crossed the quai 
 rapidly, took out her purse, thrust it into Philippe's 
 hand, and fled away as if she had committed a crime. 
 After that, she ate nothing for two days ; before her 
 was the horrible vision of her son dying of hunger in 
 the streets of Paris. 
 
 " When he has spent all the mone} r in my purse, who 
 will give him airy?" she thought. "Giroudeau did not 
 deceive us ; Philippe is just out of that hospital." 
 
 She no longer saw the assassin of her poor aunt, the 
 
The Two Brothers. 117 
 
 scourge of the family, the domestic thief, the gambler, 
 the drunkard, the low liver of a bad life ; she saw onl}* 
 the man recovering from illness, yet doomed to die of 
 starvation, the smoker deprived of his tobacco. At 
 forty-seven years of age she grew to look like a woman 
 of seventy. Her eyes were dimmed with tears and pray- 
 ers. Yet it was not the last grief this son was to bring 
 upon her ; her worst apprehensions were destined to be 
 realized. A conspiracy of officers was discovered at the 
 heart of the army, and articles from the "Moniteur" 
 giving details of the arrests were hawked about the 
 streets. 
 
 In the depths of her cage in the lottery-office of the 
 rue Vivienne, Agathe heard the name of Philippe Bri- 
 dau. She fainted, and the manager, understanding 
 her trouble and the necessit\ r of taking certain steps, 
 gave her leave of absence for two weeks. 
 
 " Ah ! my friend," she said to Joseph, as she went to 
 bed that night, " it is our severity which drove him to it." 
 
 "I'll go and see Desroches," answered Joseph. 
 
 While the artist was confiding his brother's affairs to 
 the younger Desroches, — who by this time had the re- 
 putation of being one of the keenest and most astute 
 lawyers in Paris, and who, moreover, did sundry ser- 
 vices for personages of distinction, among others for des 
 Lupeaulx, then secretar}' of a ministry, — Giroudeau 
 called upon the widow. This time, Agathe believed him. 
 
 M Madame," he said, " if 3-011 can produce twelve 
 thousand francs, your son will be set at libert} r for 
 want of proof. It is necessary to bu3 T the silence of 
 two witnesses." 
 
 " I will get the money," said the poor mother, with- 
 out knowing how or where. 
 
118 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Inspired by this danger, she wrote to her godmother, 
 old Madame Hochon, begging her to ask Jean-Jacques 
 Rouget to send her the twelve thousand francs and save 
 his nephew Philippe. If Rouget refused, she entreated 
 Madame Hochon to lend them to her, promising to re- 
 turn them in two years. By return of courier, she re- 
 ceived the following letter : — 
 
 My dear girl : Though your brother has an income of 
 not less than forty thousand francs a year, without counting 
 the sums he has laid by for the last seventeen years, and which 
 Monsieur Hochon estimates at more than six hundred thou- 
 sand francs, he will not give one penny to nephews whom he has 
 never seen. As for me, you know I cannot dispose of a far- 
 thing while my husband lives. Hochon is the greatest miser 
 in Issoudun. I do not know what he does with his money ; 
 he does not give twenty francs a year to his grandchildren. 
 As for borrowing the money, I should have to get his signa- 
 ture, and he would refuse it. I have not even attempted to 
 speak to your brother, who lives with a concubine, to whom 
 he is a slave. It is pitiable to see how the poor man is treated 
 in his own home, when he might have a sister and nephews 
 to take care of him. 
 
 I have hinted to you several times that your presence at 
 Issoudun might save your brother, and rescue a fortune of 
 forty, perhaps sixty, thousand francs a year from the claws of 
 that slut ; but you either do not answer nie, or you seem never 
 to understand my meaning. So to-day 1 am obliged to write 
 without epistolary circumlocution. I feel for the misfortune 
 which has overtaken you, but, my dearest, I can do no more 
 than pity you. And this is why: Hochon, at eighty -five years 
 of age, takes four meals a day, eats a salad with hard-boiled 
 eggs every night, and frisks about like a rabbit. I shall have 
 spent my whole life — for he will live to write my epitaph — 
 without ever having had twenty francs in my purse. If you 
 will come to Issoudun and counteract the influence of that 
 
The Two Brothers. 119 
 
 concubine over your brother, you must stay with me, for there 
 are reasons why Rouget cannot receive you in his own house ; 
 but even then, I shall have hard work to get my husband to 
 let me have you here. However, you can safely come ; I can 
 make him mind me as to that. I know a way to get what 
 I want out of him ; I have only to speak of making my will. 
 It seems such a horrid thing to do that I do not often have 
 recourse to it ; but for you, dear Agathe, I will do the im- 
 possible. 
 
 I hope your Philippe will get out of his trouble; and T beg 
 you to employ a good lawyer. In any case, come to Issoudun 
 as soon as you can. Remember that your imbecile of a 
 brother at fifty-seven is an older and weaker man than Mou- 
 sieur Hochon. So it is a pressing matter. People are talk- 
 ing already of a will that cuts off your inheritance; but 
 Monsieur Hochon says there is still time to get it revoked. 
 
 Adieu, my little Agathe; may God help you! Believe in 
 the love of your godmother, 
 
 Maximilienne Hochon, nee Lousteau. 
 
 P. S. Has my nephew, Etienne, who writes in the news- 
 papers and is intimate, they tell me, with your son Philippe, 
 been to pay his respects to you? But come at once to Issou- 
 dun, and we will talk over things. 
 
 This letter made a great impression on Agathe, who 
 showed it, of course, to Joseph, to whom she had 
 been forced to mention Giroudeau's proposal. The 
 artist, who grew wary when it concerned his brother, 
 pointed put to her that she ought to tell everything to 
 Desroches. 
 
 Conscious of the wisdom of that advice, Agathe went 
 with her son the next morning, at six o'clock, to find 
 Desroches at his house in the rue de Bussy. The 
 lawyer, as cold and stern as his late father, with a sharp 
 voice, a rough skin, implacable ej^es, and the visage oi 
 
120 The Two Brothers. 
 
 a fox as he licks his lips of the blood of chickens, 
 bounded like a tiger when he heard of Giroudeau's visit 
 and proposal. 
 
 "And pray, mere Bridau," he cried, in his little 
 cracked voice, " how long are you going to be duped 
 b} T your cursed brigand of a son ? Don't give him a far- 
 thing. Make yourself eas}-, I '11 answer for Philippe. 
 I should like to see him brought before the Court of 
 Peers ; it might save his future. You are afraid he will 
 be condemned ; but I say, may it please God his law} T er 
 lets him be convicted. Go to Issoudun, secure the 
 propertj- for }X)ur children. If you don't succeed, if 
 your brother has made a will in favor of that woman, 
 and you can't make him revoke it, — well then, at least 
 get all the evidence 3011 can of undue influence, and I'll 
 institute proceedings for 3*011. But you are too honest 
 a woman to know how to get at the bottom facts of such 
 a matter. I '11 go myself to Issoudun in the holida3'S, 
 — if I can." 
 
 That " go mj-self " made Joseph tremble in his skin. 
 Desroches winked at him to let his mother go down- 
 stairs first, and then the lawyer detained the young man 
 for a single moment. 
 
 '* Your brother is a great scoundrel ; he is the cause 
 of the discovery of this conspirac}', — intentionally or 
 not I can't say, for the rascal is so si}' no one can 
 find out the exact truth as to that. Fool or traitor, — 
 take your choice. He will be put under the surveillance 
 of the police, nothing more. You need n't be uneas}- ; 
 no one knows this secret but myself. Go to Issoudun 
 with your mother. You have good sense ; try to save 
 the property." 
 
 "Come, my poor mother, Desroches is right," said 
 
The Two Brothers. 121 
 
 Joseph, rejoining Agathe on the staircase. "I have 
 sold my two pictures, let us start for Berry ; you have 
 two weeks' leave of absence." 
 
 After writing to her godmother to announce their ar- 
 rival, Agathe and Joseph started the next evening for 
 their trip to Issoudun, leaving Philippe to his fate. 
 The diligence rolled through the rue d' Enter toward the 
 Orleans highroad. When Agathe saw the Luxembourg, 
 to which Philippe had been transferred, she could not 
 refrain from saying, — 
 
 "If it were not for the Allies he would never be 
 there ! " 
 
 Many sons would have made an impatient gesture 
 and smiled with pity ; but the artist, who was alone with 
 his mother in the coupe, caught her in his arms and 
 pressed her to his heart, exclaiming : — 
 
 M Oh, mother! you are a mother just as Raphael 
 was a painter. And you will always be a fool of a 
 mother ! " 
 
 Madame Bridau's mind, diverted before long from 
 her griefs by the distractions of the journey, began to 
 dwell on the purpose of it. She re-read the letter of 
 Madame Hochon, which had so stirred up the lawyer 
 Desroches. Struck with the words t; concubine " and 
 kt slut," which the pen of a septuagenarian as pious as 
 she was respectable had used to designate the woman 
 now in process of getting hold of Jean-Jacques Rouget's 
 property, struck also with the word " imbecile" applied 
 to Rouget himself, she began to ask herself how, by her 
 presence at Issoudun, she was to save the inheritance. 
 Joseph, poor disinterested artist that he was, kuew 
 little enough about the Code, and his mother's last re- 
 mark absorbed his mind. 
 
122 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Before our friend Desroches sent us off to protect 
 our rights, he ought to have explained to us the means 
 of doing so," he exclaimed. 
 
 u So far as my poor head, which whirls at the thought 
 of Philippe in prison, — without tobacco, perhaps, and 
 about to appear before the Court of Peers ! — leaves me 
 any distinct memory," returned Agathe, " I think 
 young Desroches said we were to get evidence of undue 
 influence, in case my brother has made a will in favor 
 of that — that — woman." 
 
 " He is good at that, Desroches is," cried the painter. 
 " Bah ! if we can make nothing of it I '11 get him to 
 come himself." 
 
 44 Well, don't let us trouble our heads uselessly," 
 said Agathe. " When we get to Issoudun my godmother 
 will tell us what to do." 
 
 This conversation, which took place just after Madame 
 Bridau and Joseph changed coaches at Orleans and en- 
 tered the Sologne, is sufficient proof of the incapacity 
 of the painter and his mother to play the part the inex- 
 orable Desroches had assigned to them. 
 
 In returning to Issoudun after thirty years' absence, 
 Agathe was about to find such changes in its manners 
 and customs that it is necessary to sketch, in a few 
 words, a picture of that town. Without it, the reader 
 would scarcely understand the heroism displayed by 
 Madame Hochon in assisting her goddaughter, or the 
 strange situation of Jean-Jacques Rouget. Though 
 Doctor Rouget had taught his son to regard Agathe in 
 the light of a stranger, it was certainly a somewhat ex- 
 traordinary thing that for thirty years a brother should 
 have given no signs of life to a sister. Such a silence 
 was evidently caused by peculiar circumstances, and 
 
The Two Brothers. 123 
 
 any other sister and nephew than Agathe and Joseph 
 would long ago have inquired into them. There is, 
 moreover, a certain connection between the condition of 
 the city of Issoudun and the interests of the Bridau 
 family, which can only be seen as the story goes on. 
 
124 The Two Brothers. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Issoudun, be it said without offence to Paris, is one 
 of the oldest cities in France. In spite of the historical 
 assumption which makes the emperor Probus the Noah 
 of the Gauls, Caesar speaks of the excellent wine of 
 Champ-Fort (de Campo Forti) still one of the best 
 vintages of Issoudun. Rigord writes of this city in 
 language which leaves no doubt as to its great popula- 
 tion and its immense commerce. But these testimonies 
 both assign a much lesser age to the city than its ac- 
 tual antiquit}' demands. In fact, the excavations lately 
 undertaken by a learned archaeologist of the place, Mon- 
 sieur Armand Peremet, have brought to light, under the 
 celebrated tower of Issoudun, a basilica of the fifth 
 century, probablj* the only one in France. This church 
 preserves, in its very materials, the sign-manual of an 
 anterior civilization ; for its stones came from a Roman 
 temple which stood on the same site. 
 
 Issoudun, therefore, according to the researches of 
 this antiquary, like other cities of France whose ancient 
 or modern autonym ends in Dun (dunum) bears in its 
 very name the certificate of an autochthonous existence. 
 The word Dun, the appanage of all dignity consecrated 
 b} r Druidical worship, proves a religious and military 
 settlement of the Celts. Beneath the Dun of the Gauls 
 must have lain the Roman temple to Isis. From that 
 comes, according to Chaumon, the name of the cit\', Is- 
 sous-Dun, — Is being the abbreviation of Isis. Richard 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 1 25 
 
 Cceur-de-lion undoubtedly built the famous tower (in 
 which he coined money) above the basilica of the fifth 
 centuiy, — the third monument of the third religion of 
 this ancient town. He used the church as a neces- 
 sary foundation, or stay, for the raising of the ram- 
 part ; and he preserved it by covering it with feudal 
 fortifications as with a mantle. Issoudun was at that 
 time the seat of the ephemeral power of the Routiers 
 and the Cottereaux, adventurers and free-lances, whom 
 Hemy II. sent against his son Richard, at the time of 
 his rebellion as Comte de Poitou. 
 
 The history of Aquitaine, which was not written by 
 the Benedictines, will probably never be written, because 
 there are no longer Benedictines : thus we are not able 
 to light up these archaeological tenebrae in the history 
 of our manners and customs on every occasion of their 
 appearance. There is another testimon} 7 to the ancient 
 importance of Issoudun in the conversion into a canal 
 of the Tournemine, a little stream raised several feet 
 above the level of the Theols which surrounds the 
 town. This is undoubtedly the work of Roman genius. 
 Moreover, the suburb which extends from the castle in 
 a northerly direction is intersected by a street which for 
 more than two thousand years has borne the name of 
 the rue de Rome ; and the inhabitants of this suburb, 
 whose racial characteristics, blood, and physiognomy 
 have a special stamp of their own, call themselves 
 descendants of the Romans. The}' are nearly all vine- 
 growers, and display a remarkable inflexibilit} T of man- 
 ners and customs, due, undoubtedly, to their origin, — 
 perhaps also to their victory over the Cottereaux and 
 the Routiers, whom they exterminated on the plain of 
 Charost in the twelfth centur}\ 
 
126 The Two Brothers. 
 
 After the insurrection of 1830, France was too agi- 
 tated to pa} T much attention to the rising of the vine- 
 growers of Issoudun ; a terrible affair, the facts of 
 which have never been made public, — for good rea- 
 sons. In the first place, the bourgeois of Issoudun 
 refused to allow the military to enter the town. Thej- . 
 followed the use and wont of the bourgeoisie of the 
 Middle Ages and declared themselves responsible for 
 their own city. The government was obliged to yield 
 to a sturdy people backed up by seven or eight thou- 
 sand vine-growers, who had burned all the archives, also 
 the offices of "indirect taxation," and had dragged 
 through the streets a customs officer, crying out at 
 every street lantern, " Let us hang him here! " The 
 poor man's life was saved from these madmen b} r the 
 national guard, who took him to prison on pretext of 
 drawing up his indictment. The general in command 
 only entered the town by virtue of a compromise made 
 with the vine-growers ; and it needed some courage to 
 go among them. At the moment when he showed him- 
 self at the hotel-de-ville, a man from the faubourg de 
 Rome slung a volant round his neck (the volant is a 
 huge pruning-hook fastened to a pole, with which they 
 trim trees) crying out, "No more clerks, or there's an 
 end to compromise ! " The fellow would have taken off 
 that honored head, left untouched by sixteen years of 
 war, had it not been for the hasty intervention of one of 
 the leaders of the revolt, to whom a promise had been 
 made that the Chambers should be asked to suppress 
 the excisemen. 
 
 In the fourteenth century, Issoudun still had six- 
 teen or seventeen thousand inhabitants, remains of a 
 population double that number in the time of Kigord. 
 
The Two Brothers. 127 
 
 Charles VII. possessed a mansion which still exists, and 
 was known, as late as the eighteenth century, as the 
 Maison du Roi. This town, then a centre of the woollen 
 trade, supplied that commodity to the greater part of 
 Europe, and manufactured on a large scale blankets, 
 hats, and the excellent Chevreautin gloves. Under 
 Louis XIV., Issoudun, the birthplace of Baron and 
 Bourdaloue, was always cited as a city of elegance and 
 good society, where the language was correctlj' spoken. 
 The curate Poupard, in his History of Sancerre, men- 
 tions the inhabitants of Issoudun as remarkable among 
 the other Berrichons for subtlety and natural wit. To- 
 da}', the wit and the splendor have alike disappeared. 
 Issoudun, whose great extent of ground bears witness 
 to its ancient importance, has now barely twelve thou- 
 sand inhabitants, including the vine-dressers of four 
 enormous suburbs, — those of Saint-Paterne, Vilatte, 
 Rome, and Alouette, which are really small towns. The 
 bourgeoisie, like that of Versailles, are spread over the 
 length and breadth of the streets. Issoudun still holds 
 the market for the fleeces of Berry ; a commerce now 
 threatened by improvements in the stock which are be- 
 ing introduced everywhere except in Berry. 
 
 The vineyards of Issoudun produce a wine which is 
 drunk throughout the two departments, and which, if 
 manufactured as Burgundy and Gascony manufacture 
 theirs, would be oneof the best wines in France. Alas, 
 4> to do as our fathers did," with no innovations, is the 
 law of the land. Accordingly, the vine-growers continue 
 to leave the refuse of the grape in the juice during its 
 fermentation, which makes the wine detestable, when it 
 might be a source of ever-springing wealth, and an in- 
 dustry for the community. Thanks to the bitterness 
 
128 The Tivo Brothers. 
 
 which the refuse infuses into the wine, and which, they 
 say, lessens with age, a vintage will keep a century. 
 This reason, given by the vine-grower in excuse for his 
 obstinacy, is of sufficient importance to oenology to be 
 made public here ; Guillaume le Breton lias also pro- 
 claimed it in some lines of his " Philippide." 
 
 The decline of Issoudun is explained by this spirit of 
 sluggishness, sunken to actual torpor, which a single 
 fact will illustrate. When the authorities were talking 
 of a highroad between Paris and Toulouse, it was nat- 
 ural to think of taking it from Vierzon to Chateauroux 
 by wa}' of Issoudun. The distance was shorter than to 
 make it, as the road now is, through Vatan. But the 
 leading people of the neighborhood and the city council 
 of Issoudun (whose discussion of the matter is said 
 to be recorded), demanded that it should go by Vatan, 
 on the ground that if the highroad went through their 
 town, provisions would rise in price and they might 
 be forced to pay thirty sous for a chicken. The only 
 analogy to be found for this proceeding is in the wilder 
 parts of Sardinia, a land once so rich and populous, 
 now so deserted. When Charles Albert, with a praise- 
 worthy intention of civilization , wished to unite Sassari. 
 the second capital of the island, with Cagliari by a mag- 
 nificent highway (the only one ever made in that wild 
 waste b} r name Sardinia), the direct line lay through 
 Bornova, a district inhabited by a lawless people, all 
 the more like our Arab tribes because the} r are de- 
 scended from the Moors. Seeing that they were about 
 to fall into the clutches of civilization, the savages of 
 Bornova, without taking the trouble to discuss the mat- 
 ter, declared their opposition to the road. The govern- 
 ment took no notice of it. The first engineer who came 
 
The Two Brothers. 129 
 
 to survey it, got a ball through his head, and died on 
 his level. No action was taken on this murder, but the 
 road made a circuit which lengthened it by eight miles ! 
 
 The continual lowering of the price of wines drunk in 
 the neighborhood, though it may satisfy the desire of 
 the bourgeoisie of Issoudun for cheap provisions, is 
 leading the way to the ruin of the vine-growers, who 
 are more and more burdened with the costs of cultiva- 
 tion and the taxes ; just as the ruin of the woollen trade 
 is the result of the non-improvement in the breeding of 
 sheep. Country-folk have the deepest horror of change ; 
 even that which is most conducive to their interests. In 
 the countiy, a Parisian meets a laborer who eats an 
 enormous quantity of bread, cheese, and vegetables ; he 
 proves to him that if he would substitute for that diet 
 a certain portion of meat, he would be better fed, 
 at less cost ; that he could work more, and would not 
 use up his capital of health and strength so quickly. 
 The Berrichon sees the correctness of the calculation, 
 but he answers, " Think of the gossip, monsieur." 
 "Gossip, what do }~ou mean ? " "Well, 3-es, what would 
 people say of me?" "He would be the talk of the 
 neighborhood," said the owner of the property on which 
 this scene took place ; " they would think him as rich as 
 a tradesman. He is afraid of public opinion, afraid of 
 being pointed at, afraid of seeming ill or feeble. That 's 
 how we all are in this region." Many of the bourgeoisie 
 utter this phrase with feelings of inward pride. 
 
 While ignorance and custom are invincible in the 
 country regions, where the peasants are left very much 
 to themselves, the town of Issoudun itself has reached 
 a state of complete social stagnation. Obliged to meet 
 the decadence of fortunes by the practice of sordid econ- 
 
130 The Two Brothers. 
 
 omy, each family lives to itself. Moreover, society is 
 permanently deprived of that distinction of classes which 
 gives character to manners and customs. There is no 
 opposition of social forces, such as that to which the 
 cities of the Italian States in the Middle Ages owed their 
 vitality. There are no longer any nobles in Issoudun. 
 The Cottereaux, the Routiers, the Jacquerie, the relig- 
 ious wars and the Revolution did away with the nobility. 
 The town is proud of that triumph. Issoudun has re- 
 peatedly refused to receive a garrison, always on the plea 
 of cheap provisions. She has thus lost a means of inter- 
 course with the age, and she has also lost the profits aris- 
 ing from the presence of troops. Before 1756, Issoudun 
 was one of the most delightful of all the garrison towns. 
 A judicial drama, which occupied for a time the atten- 
 tion of France, the feud of a lieutenant-general of the 
 department with the Marquis de Chapt, whose son, an 
 officer of dragoons, was put to death, — justly perhaps, 
 yet traitorously, for some affair of gallantly, — deprived 
 the town from that time forth of a garrison. The sojourn 
 of the forty-fourth demi-brigade, imposed upon it during 
 the civil war, was not of a nature to reconcile the inhabi- 
 tants to the race of warriors. 
 
 Bourges, whose population is yearly decreasing, is 
 a victim of the same social malady. Vitality is leaving 
 these communities. Undoubtedly, the government is to 
 blame. The duty of an administration is to discover 
 the wounds upon the body-politic, and remedy them by 
 sending men of energy to the diseased regions, with 
 power to change the state of things. Alas, so far from 
 that, it approves and encourages this ominous and fatal 
 tranquillity. Besides, it ma} T be asked, how could the 
 government send new administrators and able magis- 
 
The T.vo Brothers. 131 
 
 trates? Who, of such men, is willing to bun- himself 
 in the arrondissements, where the good to be done is 
 without glory? If, by chance, some ambitious stranger 
 settles there, he soon falls into the inertia of the region, 
 and tunes himself to the dreadful key of provincial life. 
 Issoudun would have benumbed Napoleon. 
 
 As a result of this particular characteristic, the arron- 
 dissement of Issoudun was governed, in 1822, by men 
 who all belonged to Berry. The administration of power 
 became either a nullhy- or a farce, — except in certain 
 cases, naturally very rare, which by their manifest impor- 
 tance compelled the authorities to act. The procureur du 
 roi, Monsieur Mouilleron, was cousin to the entire com- 
 munit} r , and his substitute belonged to one of the families 
 of the town. The judge of the court, before attaining 
 that digntty -, was made famous by one of those provincial 
 sayings which put a cap and bells on a man's head for 
 the rest of his life. As he v ended his summing-up of all 
 the facts of an indictment, he looked at the accused and 
 said : " My poor Pierre ! the thing is as plain as day ; 
 3'our head will be cut off. Let this be a lesson to yoa." 
 The commissary of police, holding that office since the 
 Restoration, had relations throughout the arrondisse- 
 ment. Moreover, not onl} T was the influence of religion 
 null, but the curate himself was held in no esteem. 
 
 It was this bourgeoisie, radical, ignorant, and loving 
 to anno}' others, which now related tales, more or less 
 comic, about the relations of Jean-Jacques Rouget with 
 his servant-woman. The children of these people went 
 none the less to Sunday- school, and were as scrupu- 
 lously prepared for their communion : the schools were 
 kept up all the same ; mass was said ; the taxes were 
 paid (the sole thing that Paris exacts of the provinces), 
 
132 The Two Brothers. 
 
 and the mayor passed resolutions. But all these acts of 
 social existence were done as mere routine, and thus 
 the laxity of the local government suited admirably 
 with the moral and intellectual condition of the gov- 
 erned. The events of the following history will show 
 the effects of this state of things, which is not as 
 unusual in the provinces as might be supposed. Man}' 
 towns in France, more particularly in the South, are like 
 Issoudun. The condition to which the ascendency of 
 the bourgeoisie has reduced that local capital is one 
 which will spread over all France, and even to Paris, if 
 the bourgeois continues to rule the exterior and interior 
 policy of our county. 
 
 Now, one word of topography. Issoudun stretches, 
 north and south, along a hillside which rounds towards 
 the highroad to Chateauroux. At the foot of the hill, 
 a canal, now called the ' ' Riviere forcee " whose waters 
 are taken from the Theols, was constructed in former 
 times, when the town was flourishing, for the use of 
 manufactories or to flood the moats of the rampart. 
 The " Riyiere forcee" forms an artificial arm of a 
 natural river, the Tournemine, which unites with several 
 other streams beyond the suburb of Rome. These little 
 threads of running water and the two rivers irrigate a 
 tract of wide-spreading meadow-land, enclosed on all 
 sides by little yellowish or white terraces dotted with 
 black speckles ; for such is the aspect of the vineyards 
 of Issoudun during seven months of the year. The vine- 
 growers cut the plants down yearly, leaving only an 
 ugly stump, without support, sheltered by a barrel. 
 The traveller arriving from Vierzon, Vatan, or Chateau- 
 roux, his eyes weary with monotonous plains, is agree- 
 ably surprised by the meadows of Issoudun, — the oasis 
 
The Two Brothers. 133 
 
 of this part of Berry, which supplies the inhabitants 
 with vegetables throughout a region of thirty miles in 
 circumference. Below the suburb of Rome, lies a vast 
 tract entirely covered w r ith kitchen-gardens, and divided 
 into two sections, which bear the name of upper and 
 lower Baltan. A long avenue of poplars leads from 
 the town across the meadows to an ancient convent 
 named Frapesle, whose English gardens, quite unique 
 in that arrondisseraent, have received the ambitious 
 name of Tivoli. Loving couples whisper their vows in 
 its alleys of a Suncla}^. 
 
 Traces of the ancient grandeur of Issoudun of course 
 reveal themselves to the eyes of a careful observer ; and 
 the most suggestive are the divisions of the town. The 
 chateau, formerly almost a town itself with its walls and 
 moat, is a distinct quarter which can only be entered, 
 even at the present da}*, through its ancient gateways, — 
 by means of three bridges thrown across the arms of the 
 two rivers, — and has all the appearance of an ancient 
 city. The ramparts show, in places, the formidable 
 strata of their foundations, on which houses have now 
 sprung up. Above the chateau, is the famous tower of 
 Issoudun, once the citadel. The conqueror of the city, 
 which laj' around these two fortified points, had still 
 to gain possession of the tower and the castle ; and pos- 
 session of the castle did not insure that of the tower, or 
 citadel. 
 
 The suburb of Saint-Paterne, which lies in the shape 
 of a palette beyond the tower, encroaching on the meadow- 
 lands, is so considerable that in the very earliest ages it 
 must have been part of the city itself. This opinion 
 derived, in 1822, a sort of certainty from the then 
 existence of the charming church of Saint-Paterne. 
 
134 The Two Brothers. 
 
 recently pulled down by the heir of the individual who 
 bought it of the nation. This church, one of the finest 
 specimens of the Romanesque that France possessed, 
 actually perished without a single drawing being made 
 of the portal, which was in perfect preservation* The 
 only voice raised to save this monument of a past art 
 found no echo, either in the town itself or in the de- 
 partment. Though the castle of Issoudun has the 
 appearance of an old town, with its narrow streets and 
 its ancient mansions, the city itself, properly so called, 
 which was captured ai?d burned at different epochs, 
 notably during the Fronde, when it was laid in ashes, 
 has a modern air. Streets that are spacious in compar- 
 ison with those of other towns, and well-built houses 
 form a striking contrast to the aspect of the citadel, — a 
 contrast that has won for Issoudun, in certain geogra- 
 phies, the epithet of " pretty." 
 
 In a town thus constituted, without the least activity, 
 even business activity, without a taste for art, or for 
 learned occupations, and where everybody stayed in the 
 little round of his or her own home, it w T as likely to 
 happen, and did happen under the Restoration in 1816 
 when the war was over, that many of the }oung men of 
 the place had no career before them, and knew not 
 where to turn for occupation until they could marry or 
 inherit the property of their fathers. Bored in their 
 own homes, these young fellows found little or no dis- 
 traction elsewhere in the city ; and as, in the language 
 of that region, "youth must shed its cuticle " they sowed 
 their wild oats at the expense of the town itself. It was 
 difficult to carry on such operations in open day, lest the 
 perpetrators should be recognized ; for the cup of their 
 misdemeanors once filled, they were liable to be arraigned 
 
The Two Brothers. 135 
 
 at their next peccadillo before the police courts ; and 
 they therefore judiciously selected the night time for 
 the performance of their mischievous pranks. Thus it 
 was that among the traces of divers lost civilizations, 
 a vestige of the spirit of drolleiy that characterized the 
 manners of antiquity burst into a final flame. 
 
 The young men amused themselves very much as 
 Charles IX. amused himself with his courtiers, or 
 Henry V. of England and his companions, or as in 
 former times young men were wont to amuse them- 
 selves in the provinces. Having once banded together 
 for purposes of mutual help, to defend each other and 
 invent amusing tricks, there presently developed among 
 them, through the clash of ideas, that spirit of malicious 
 mischief which belongs to the period of youth and may 
 even be observed among animals. The confederation, 
 in itself, gave them the mimic delights of the mystery of 
 an organized conspiracy. They called themselves the 
 "Knights of Idleness." During the day these young 
 scamps were youthful saints ; they all pretended to 
 extreme quietness ; and, in fact, they habitually slept 
 late after the nights on which they had been playing 
 their malicious pranks. The ''Knights" began with 
 mere commonplace tricks, such as unhooking and chang- 
 ing signs, ringing bells, flinging casks left before one 
 house into the cellar of the next with a crash, rousing 
 the occupants of the house by a noise that seemed to 
 their frightened ears like the explosion of a mine. In 
 Issoudun, as in many country towns, the cellar is en- 
 tered by an opening near the door of the house, covered 
 \Vith a wooden scuttle, secured by strong iron hinges 
 and a padlock. 
 
 In 1816, these modern Bad Boys had not altogether 
 
136 The Two Brothers. 
 
 given up such tricks as these, perpetrated in the prov- 
 inces hy all young lads and gamins. But in 1817 the 
 Order of Idleness acquired a Grand Master, and distin- 
 guished itself by mischief which, up to 1823, spread 
 something like terror in Issoudun, or at least kept the 
 artisans and the bourgeoisie perpetually uneasy. 
 
 This leader was a certain Maxence Gilet, commonly 
 called Max, whose antecedents, no less than his youth 
 and his vigor, predestined him for such a part. Max- 
 ence Gilet was supposed by all Issoudun to be the nat- 
 ural son of the sub-delegate Lousteau, that brother of 
 Madame Hochon whose gallantries had left memories 
 behind them, and who, as we have seen, drew down 
 upon himself the hatred of old Doctor Rouget about 
 the time of Agathe's birth. But the friendship which 
 bound the two men together before their quarrel was 
 so close that, to use an expression of that region and 
 that period, "they willingly walked the same road." 
 Some people said that Maxence was as likely to be the 
 son of the doctor as of the sub-delegate ; but in fact 
 he belonged to neither the one nor the other, — his 
 father being a charming dragoon officer in garrison 
 at Bourges. Nevertheless, as a result of their enmity, 
 and very fortunately for the child, Rouget and Lousteau 
 never ceased to claim his paternity. 
 
 Max's mother, the wife of a poor sabot-maker in 
 the Rome suburb, was possessed, for the perdition of 
 her soul, of a surprising beaut}', a Trasteverine beautj", 
 the only property which she transmitted to her son. 
 Madame Gilet, pregnant with Maxence in 1788, had 
 long desired that blessing, which the town attributed to 
 the gallantries of the two friends, — probably in the 
 hope of setting them against each other. Gilet, an old 
 
The Two Brothers. 137 
 
 drunkard with a triple throat, treated his wife's mis- 
 conduct with a collusion that is not uncommon among 
 the lower classes. To make sure of protectors for her 
 son, Madame Gilet was careful not to enlighten his 
 reputed fathers as to his parentage. In Paris, she 
 would have turned out a millionnaire ; at Issoudun she 
 lived sometimes at her ease, more often miserably, and, 
 in the long run, despised. Madame Hochon, Lous- 
 teau's sister, paid sixty francs a year for the lad's 
 schooling. This liberality, which Madame Hochon was 
 quite unable to practise on her own account because of 
 her husband's stinginess, was naturally attributed to her 
 brother, then living at Sancerre. 
 
 When Doctor Rouget, who certainly was not lucky 
 in sons, observed Max's beauty, he paid the board of the 
 4t }oung rogue," as he called him, at the seminary, up 
 to the year 1805. As Lousteau died in 1800, and the 
 doctor apparently obe3*ed a feeling of vanity in paying 
 the lad's board until 1805, the question of the paternity 
 was left forever undecided. Maxence Gilet, the butt 
 of many jests, was soon forgotten, — and for this reason : 
 In 1806, a year after Doctor Rouget's death, the lad, 
 who seemed to have been created for a venturesome 
 life, and was moreover gifted with remarkable vigor 
 and agility, got into a series of scrapes which more or 
 less threatened his safety. He plotted with the grand- 
 sons of Monsieur Hochon to worry the grocers of the 
 city ; he gathered fruit before the owners could pick it, 
 and made nothing of scaling walls. He had no equal 
 at bodily exercises, he played base to perfection, and 
 could have outrun a hare. With a keen eye worthy of 
 Leather-stocking, he loved hunting passionately. His 
 time was passed in firing at a mark, instead of stud3'- 
 
138 The Two Brothers. 
 
 log ; and he spent the money extracted from the old 
 doctor in buying powder and ball for a wretched pistol 
 that old Gilet, the sabot-maker, hatl given him. Dur- 
 ing the autumn of 1806, Maxence, then seventeen, 
 committed an involuntary murder, by frightening in the 
 dusk a young woman who was pregnant, and who came 
 upon him suddenly while stealing fruit in her garden. 
 Threatened with the guillotine by Gilet, who doubt- 
 less wanted to get rid of him, Max fled to Bourges, met 
 a regiment then on its way to Egypt, and enlisted. 
 Nothing came of the death of the young woman. 
 
 A young fellow of Max's character was sure to dis- 
 tinguish himself, and in the course of three campaigns 
 he did distinguish himself so highly that he rose to be a 
 captain, his lack of education helping him strenuously. 
 In Portugal, in 1809, he was left for dead in an English 
 battery, into which his compan}* had penetrated without 
 being able to hold it. Max, taken prisoner by the 
 English, was sent to the Spanish hulks at the island of 
 Cabrera, the most horrible of all stations for prisoners 
 of war. His friends begged that he might receive the 
 cross of the Legion of honor and the rank of major ; but 
 the Emperor was then in Austria, and he reserved his 
 favors for those who did brilliant deeds under his own 
 eye : he did not like officers or men who allowed them- 
 selves to be taken prisoner, and he was, moreover, much 
 dissatisfied with affairs in Portugal. Max was held at 
 Cabrera from 1810 to 1814. 1 During those years he 
 
 1 The cruelty of the Spaniards to the French prisoners at Ca- 
 brera was very great. In the spring of 1811, II. M. brig "Min- 
 orca," Captain Wormeley, was sent by Admiral Sir Charles 
 Cotton, then commanding the Mediterranean fleet, to make a re- 
 port of their condition. As she Beared the island, the wretched 
 
The Two Brothers. 189 
 
 became utterly demoralized, for the hulks were like the 
 galleys, minus crime and infancy. At the outset, to 
 maintain his personal free will, and protect himself 
 against the corruption which made that horrible prison 
 unworthy of a civilized people, the handsome young- 
 captain killed in a duel (for duels were fought on those 
 hulks in a space scarcely six feet square) seven bullies 
 among his fellow-prisoners, thus ridding the islanH of 
 their tyranny to the great joy of the other victims. 
 After this, Max reigned supreme on his hulk, thanks to 
 the wonderful ease and address with which he handled 
 weapons, to his bodily strength, and also to his extreme 
 cleverness. 
 
 But he, in turn, committed arbitrary acts ; there were 
 those who curried favor with him, and worked his will, 
 and became his minions. In that school of misery, 
 where bitter minds dreamed only of vengeance, where 
 the sophistries hatched in such brains were laying up, 
 inevitably, a store of evil thoughts, Max became utterly 
 demoralized. He listened to the opinions of those who 
 longed for fortune at any price, and did not shrink from 
 the results of criminal actions, provided the\ T were done 
 without discovery. When peace was proclaimed, in April, 
 
 prisoners swam out to meet her. They were reduced to skin and 
 bone ; many of them were naked ; and their miserable condition 
 so moved the seamen of the " Minorca" that they came aft to the 
 quarter-deck, and asked permission to subscribe three days' ra- 
 tions for the relief of the sufferers. Captain Wormeley carried 
 away some of the prisoners; and his report to Sir Charles Cotton, 
 being sent to the Admiralty, was made the basis of a remonstrance 
 on the part of the British government with Spain on the subject of 
 its cruelties. Sir Charles Cotton despatched Captain Wormeley a 
 second time to Cabrera with a good many head of live cattle, and 
 a large supply of other provisions. — Tr. 
 
140 The Two Brothers. 
 
 1814, he left the island, depraved though still innocent. 
 On his return to Issoudun he found his father and 
 mother dead. Like others who give way to their 
 passions and make life, as they call it, short and sweet, 
 the Gilets had died in the almshouse in the utmost pov- 
 erty. Immediately after his return, the news of Napo- 
 leon's landing at Cannes spread through France ; Max 
 could do no better than go to Paris and ask for his rank 
 as major and for his cross. The marshal who was at 
 that time minister of war remembered the brave con- 
 duct of Captain Gilet in Portugal. He put him in the 
 Guard as captain, which gave him the grade of major 
 in the infantry ; but he could not get him the cross. 
 4 'The Emperor says that you will know how to win it 
 at the first chance," said the marshal. In fact, the 
 Emperor did put the brave captain on his list for deco- 
 ration the evening after the fight at Fleurus, where 
 Gilet distinguished himself. 
 
 After the battle of Waterloo Max retreated to the 
 Loire. At the time of the disbandment, Marshal Feltre 
 refused to recognize Max's grade as major, or his claim 
 to the cross. The soldier of Napoleon returned to Is- 
 soudun in a state of exasperation that ma}' well be con- 
 ceived ; he declared he would not serve without either 
 rank or cross. The war-office considered these condi- 
 tions presumptuous in a young man of twenty-five with- 
 out a name, who might, if they were granted, become a 
 colonel at thirty. Max accordingly sent in his resigna- 
 tion. The major — for among themselves Bonapartists 
 recognized the grades obtained in 1815 — thus lost the 
 pittance called half-pay which was allowed to the offi- 
 cers of the army of the Loire. But all Issoudun was 
 roused at the sight of the brave young fellow left with 
 
The Two Brothers. 141 
 
 only twenty napoleons in his possession ; and the mayor 
 gave him a place in his office with a salary of six hun- 
 dred francs. Max kept it a few months, then gave it 
 up of his own accord, and was replaced hy a captain 
 named Carpentier, who, like himself, had remained 
 faithful to Napoleon. 
 
 By this time Gilet had become grand master of the 
 Knights of Idleness, and was leading a life which lost 
 him the good- will of the chief people of the town ; who, 
 however, did not openly make the fact known to him, 
 for he was violent and much feared by all, even by the 
 officers of the old army who, like himself, had refused to 
 serve under the Bourbons, and had come home to plant 
 their cabbages in Berry. The little affection felt for 
 the Bourbons among the natives of Issoudun is not sur- 
 prising when we recall the history which we have just 
 given. In fact, considering its size and lack of impor- 
 tance, the little place contained more Bonapartists than 
 an\ T other town in France. These men became, as is 
 well known, nearly all Liberals. 
 
 In Issoudun and its neighborhood there were a dozen 
 officers in Max's position. These men admired him 
 and made him their leader, — with the exception, how- 
 ever, of Carpentier, his successor, and a certain Mon- 
 sieur Mignonnet, ex-captain in the artillery of the 
 Guard. Carpentier, a cavalry officer risen from the 
 ranks, had married into one of the best families in 
 the town, — the Borniche-Herau. Mignonnet, brought 
 up at the Ecole Polytechnique, had served in a corps 
 which held itself superior to all others. In the Imperial 
 armies there were two shades of distinction among the 
 soldiers themselves. A majority of them felt a con- 
 tempt for the bourgeois, the ''civilian," fully equal to 
 
142 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the contempt of nobles for their serfs, or conquerors for 
 the conquered. Such men did not always observe the 
 laws of honor in their dealings with civilians ; nor did 
 they much blame those who rode rough-shod over the 
 bourgeoisie. The others, and particularly the artillery, 
 perhaps because of its republicanism, never adopted the 
 doctrine of a militaiy France and a civil France, the 
 tendency of which was nothing less than to make two 
 nations. So, although Major Potel and Captain Renard, 
 two officers living in the Rome suburb, were friends 
 to Maxence Gilet "through thick and thin," Major 
 Mignonnet and Captain Carpentier took sides with 
 the bourgeoisie, and thought his conduct unworthy of 
 a man of honor. 
 
 Major Mignonnet, a lean little man, full of dignit}', 
 busied himself with the problems which the steam-engine 
 requires us to solve, and lived in a modest way, taking 
 his social intercourse with Monsieur and Madame Car- 
 pentier. His gentle manners and ways, and his scien- 
 tific occupations won him the respect of the whole town ; 
 and it was frequently said of him and of Captain Car- 
 pentier that they were ''quite another thing" from Ma- 
 jor Potel and Captain Renard, Maxence, and other 
 frequenters of the cafe Militaire, who retained the 
 soldierly manners and the defective morals of the 
 Empire. 
 
 At the time when Madame Bridau returned to Issou- 
 dun, Max was excluded from the society of the place. 
 He showed, moreover, proper self-respect in- never pre- 
 senting himself at the clubhand in never complaining of 
 the severe reprobation that was shown him ; although 
 he was the handsomest, the most elegant, an$ the best 
 dressed man in the place, spent a great deal of money, 
 
The Two Brothers. 143 
 
 and kept a horse, — a thing as amazing at Tssouclun as 
 the horse of Lord Byron at Venice. We are now to see 
 how it was that Maxenee, poor and without apparent 
 means, was able to become the dandy of the town. The 
 shameful conduct which earned him the contempt of 
 all scrupulous or religious persons was connected with 
 the interests which brought Agathe and Joseph to 
 Issoudun. 
 
 Judging by the audacity of his bearing, and the ex- 
 pression of his face, Max cared little for public opinion ; 
 he expected, no doubt, to take his revenge some day, 
 and to lord it over those who now condemned him. 
 Moreover, if the bourgeoisie of Issoudun thought ill 
 of him, the admiration he excited among the common 
 people counterbalanced their opinion ; his courage, his 
 dashing appearance, his decision of character, could not 
 fail to please the masses, to whom his degradation was, 
 for the most part, unknown, and indeed the bourgeoisie 
 themselves scarcely suspected its extent. Max played 
 a role at Issoudun which was something like that of 
 the blacksmith in the u Fair Maid of Perth ; " he was the 
 champion of Bonapartism and the Opposition ; they 
 counted upon him as the burghers of Perth counted 
 upon Smith on great occasions. A single incident will 
 put this hero and victim of the Hunclred-Dajs into clear 
 relief. 
 
 In 1819, a battalion commanded by royalist officers, 
 young men just out of the Maison-Rouge, passed 
 through Issoudum on its way to go into garrison at 
 Bourges. Not knowing what to do with themselves in 
 so constitutional a place as Issoudun, these young gen- 
 tlemen went to while away the time at the cafe Militaire. 
 In every provincial town there is a military cafe. That 
 
144 The Two Brothers. 
 
 of Issoudun, built on the place d'Armes at an angle of 
 the rampart, and kept t>3 T the widow of an officer, was 
 naturally the rendezvous of Bonapartists, chiefly officers 
 on half-pay, and others who shared Max's opinions, to 
 whom the politics of the town allowed free expression 
 of their idolatry for the Emperor. Every year, dating 
 from 1816, a banquet was given in Issoudun to com- 
 memorate the anniversary of his coronation. The three 
 royalists who first entered asked for the newspapers, 
 among others, for the " Quotidienne " and the "Dra- 
 peau Blanc." The politics of Issoudun, especially those 
 of the cafe Militaire, did not allow of such royalist jour- 
 nals. The establishment had none but the "Com- 
 merce," — a name which the " Constitutionel " was 
 compelled to adopt for several 3'ears after it was sup- 
 pressed by the government. But as, in its first issue 
 under the new name, the leading article began with 
 these words, " Commerce is essentially constitutional," 
 people continued to call it the "Constitutionel," the 
 subscribers all understanding the sly play of words 
 which begged them to pay no attention to the label, %s 
 the wine would be the same. 
 
 The fat landlady replied from her seat at the desk 
 that she did not take those papers. " What papers do 
 you take then?" said one of the officers, a captain. 
 The waiter, a little fellow in a blue cloth jacket, with 
 an apron of coarse linen tied over it, brought the 
 " Commerce." 
 
 " Is that your paper? Have 3*011 no other? " 
 " No," said the waiter, " that 's the only one." 
 The captain tore it up, flung the pieces on the floor, 
 and spat upon them, calling out, — 
 " Bring dominos ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 145 
 
 In ten minutes the news of the insult offered to the 
 Constitutional Opposition and the Liberal party, in 
 the supersacred person of its revered journal, which 
 attacked priests with the courage and the wit we all 
 remember, spread throughout the town and into the 
 houses like light itself; it was told and repeated from 
 place to place. One phrase was on everybody's lips, — 
 
 4 'Let us tell Max!" 
 
 Max soon heard of it. The royalist officers were 
 still at their game of dominos when that hero entered 
 the cafe, accompanied by Major Potel and Captain 
 Renard, and followed by at least thirty young men, 
 curious to see the end of the affair, most of whom re- 
 mained outside in the street. The room was soon full. 
 
 44 Waiter, my newspaper," said Max, in a quiet voice. 
 
 Then a little comedy was played. The fat hostess, 
 with a timid and conciliatory air, said, " Captain, I 
 have lent it ! " 
 
 44 Send for it," cried one of Max's friends. 
 
 41 Can't you do without it?" said the waiter; "we 
 have not got it." 
 
 The young royalists were laughing and casting side- 
 long glances at the new-comers. 
 
 14 The}- have torn it up ! " cried a youth of the town, 
 looking at the feet of the young royalist captain. 
 
 44 Who has dared to destroy that paper? " demanded 
 Max, in a thundering voice, his eyes flashing as he rose 
 with his arms crossed. 
 
 44 And we spat upon it," replied the three young offi- 
 cers, also rising, and looking at Max. 
 
 44 You have insulted the whole town!" said Max, 
 turning livid. 
 
 44 Well, what of that? " asked the youngest officer. 
 10 
 
146 . The Two Brothers. 
 
 With a dexterity, quickness, and audacity which the 
 young men did not foresee, Max slapped the face of the 
 officer nearest to him, saying, — 
 
 " Do you understand French?" 
 
 They fought near by, in the allee de Frapesle, three 
 against three ; for Potel and Renard would not allow 
 Max to deal with the officers alone. Max killed his 
 man. Major Potel wounded his so severely, that the 
 unfortunate 3'oung man, the son of a good family, died 
 in the hospital the next da}'. As for the third, he got 
 off with a sword cut, after wounding his adversary, 
 Captain Renard. The battalion left for Bourges that 
 night. This affair, which was noised throughout Berry, 
 set Max up definitely as a hero. 
 
 The Knights of Idleness, who were all }T>ung, the eld- 
 est not more than twent3'-five years old, admired Max- 
 ence. Some among them, far from sharing the prudery 
 and the strict notions of their families concerning his con- 
 duct, envied his present position and thought him fortu- 
 nate. Under such a leader, the Order did great things. 
 After the month of Ma}', 1817, never a week passed that 
 the town was not thrown into an uproar by some new piece 
 of mischief. Max, as a matter of honor, imposed certain 
 conditions upon the Knights. Statutes were drawn up. 
 These young demons grew as vigilant as the pupils of 
 Amoros, — bold as hawks, agile at all exercises, clever 
 and strong as criminals. They trained themselves in 
 climbing roofs, scaling houses, jumping and walking 
 noiselessly, mixing mortar, and walling up doors. They 
 collected an arsenal of ropes, ladders, tools, and dis- 
 guises. After a time the Knights of Idleness attained 
 to the beau-ideal of malicious mischief, not only as 
 to the accomplishment but, still more, in the invention 
 
The Two Brothers. 147 
 
 of their pranks. They came at last to possess the gen- 
 ius for evil that Panurge so much delighted in ; which 
 provokes laughter, and covers its victims with such 
 ridicule that the}' dare not complain. Naturally, these 
 sons of the good families of Issoudun possessed and 
 obtained information in their households, which gave 
 them the ways and means for the perpetration of their 
 outrages. 
 
 Sometimes the young devils incarnate lay in ambush 
 along the Grand'rue or the Basse rue, two streets which 
 are, as it were, the arteries of the town, into which 
 man}' little side streets open. Crouching, with their 
 heads to the wind, in the angles of the wall and at the 
 corners of the streets, at the hour when all the house- 
 holds were hushed in their first sleep, they called to 
 each other in tones of terror from ambush to ambush 
 along the whole length of the town : k ' What 's the mat- 
 ter?" c; What is it?"' till the repeated cries woke up 
 the citizens, w r ho appeared in their shirts and cotton 
 night-caps, with lights in their hands, asking questions 
 of one another, holding the strangest colloquies, and 
 exhibiting the queerest faces. 
 
 A certain poor bookbinder, who was very old, be- 
 lieved in hobgoblins. Like most provincial artisans, he 
 worked in a small basement shop. The Knights, dis- 
 guised as devils, invaded the place in the middle of 
 the night, put him into his own cutting-press, and left 
 him shrieking to himself like the souls in hell. The 
 poor man roused the neighbors, to whom he related the 
 apparitions of Lucifer ; and as they had no means of un- 
 deceiving him, he was driven nearly insane. 
 
 In the middle of a severe winter, the Knights took 
 down the chimney of the collector of taxes, and built it 
 
148 The Two Brothers. 
 
 up again in one night apparently as it was before, with- 
 out making the slightest noise, or leaving the least 
 trace of their work. But the)' so arranged the inside 
 of the chimney as to send all the smoke into the house. 
 The collector suffered for two months before he found 
 out why his chimney, which had alwa}s drawn so well, 
 and of which he had often boasted, played him such 
 tricks ; he was then obliged to build a new one. 
 
 At another time, they put three trusses of hay dusted 
 with brimstone, and a quantity of oiled paper down the 
 chimney of a pious old woman who was a friend of 
 Madame Hochon. In the morning, when she came to 
 light her fire, the poor creature, who was very gentle 
 and kindly, imagined she had started a volcano. The 
 fire-engines came, the whole population rushed to her 
 assistance. Several Knights were among the firemen, 
 and they deluged the old woman's house, till they bad 
 frightened her with a flood, as much as the}' had terri- 
 fied her with the fire. She was made ill with fear. 
 
 When they wished to make some one spend the 
 night under arms and in mortal terror, they wrote an 
 anon}'mous letter warning him that he was about to 
 be robbed ; then they stole softlj T , one by one, round 
 the walls of his house, or under his windows, whistling 
 as if to call each other. 
 
 One of their famous performances, which long amused 
 the town, where in fact it is still related, w r as to write 
 a letter to all the heirs of a miserty old lady who was 
 likely to leave a large property, announcing her death, 
 and requesting them to be promptly on hand when the 
 seals were affixed. Eight}' persons arrived from Vatan, 
 Saint-Florent, Vierzon and the neighboring country, 
 all in deep mourning, — widows with sons, children with 
 
The Two Brothers. 149 
 
 their fathers ; some in carrioles, some in wicker gigs, 
 others in dilapidated carts. Imagine the scene between 
 the old woman's servant and the first arrivals ! and the 
 consultations among the notaries ! It created a sort of 
 riot in Issoudun. 
 
 At last, one day the sub-prefect woke up to a sense 
 that this state of things was all the more intolerable be- 
 cause it seemed impossible to find out who was at the 
 bottom of it. Suspicion fell on several }'oung men ; 
 but as the National Guard was a mere name in Issou- 
 dun, and there was no garrison, and the lieutenant 
 of police had only eight gendarmes under him, so that 
 there were no patrols, it was impossible to get any 
 proof against them. The sub-prefect was immediately 
 posted in the " order of the night," and considered 
 thenceforth fair game. This functionary made a prac- 
 tice of breakfasting on two fresh eggs. He kept chick- 
 ens in his yard, and added to his mania for eating fresh 
 eggs that of boiling them himself. Neither his wife 
 nor his servant, in fact no one, according to him, knew 
 how to boil an egg properly ; he did it watch in hand, 
 and boasted that he carried off' the palm of egg-boiling 
 from all the world. For two }ears he had boiled his 
 eggs with a success which earned him many witticisims. 
 But now, every night for a whole month, the eggs were 
 taken from his hen-house, and hard-boiled eggs substi- 
 tuted. The sub-prefect was at his wits' end, and lost 
 his reputation as the sous-prefet a Vceuf. Finalty he 
 was forced to breakfast on other things. Yet he never 
 suspected the Knights of Idleness, whose trick had 
 been cautiously played. After this, Max managed to 
 grease the sub-prefect's stoves every night with an oil 
 which sent forth so fetid a smell that it was impossible 
 
150 The Two Brothers. 
 
 for any one to sta} T in the house. Even that was not 
 enough ; his wife, going to mass one morning, found her 
 shawl glued together on the inside with some tenacious 
 substance, so that she was obliged to go without it. 
 The sub-prefect finally asked for another appointment. 
 The cowardly submissiveness of this officer had much to 
 do with firmly establishing the weird and comic author- 
 ity of the Knights of Idleness. 
 
 Beyond the rue des Minimes and the place Misere, a 
 section of a quarter was at that time enclosed between 
 an arm of the M Riviere* forcee " on the lower side and 
 the ramparts on the other, beginning at the place 
 d' Amies and going as far as the pottery market. 
 This irregular square is filled with poor-looking houses 
 crowded one against the other, and divided here and 
 there by streets so narrow that two persons cannot 
 walk abreast. This section of the town, a sort of cour 
 des Miracles, was occupied by poor people or persons 
 working at trades that were little remunerative. — a 
 population living in hovels, and buildings called pictu- 
 resquely by the familiar term of " blind houses." From 
 the earliest ages this has no doubt been an accursed 
 quarter, the haunt of evil-doers ; in fact one thoroughfare 
 is named '* the street of the Executioner." For more 
 than five centuries it has been customary for the exe- 
 cutioner to have a red door at the entrance of his house. 
 The assistant of the executioner of Chateauroux still 
 lives there, — if we are to believe public rumor, for the 
 townspeople never see him : the vine-dressers alone 
 maintain an intercourse with this mysterious being, who 
 inherits from his predecessors the gift of curing wounds 
 and fractures. In the days when Issoudun assumed 
 the airs of a capital city the women of the town made 
 
The Two Brothers. 151 
 
 this section of it the scene of their wanderings. Here 
 came the second-hand sellers of things that look as if 
 the}' never could find a purchaser, old-clothes dealers 
 whose wares infected the air; in short, it was the ren- 
 dezvous of that apocryphal population which is to be 
 found in nearly all such purlieus of a city, where two 
 or three Jews have gained an ascendene}'. 
 
 At the corner of one of these gloomy streets in the 
 livelier half of the quarter, there existed from 1815 to 
 1823, and perhaps later, a public-house kept by a 
 woman commonly called Mere Cognette. The house 
 itself was tolerably well built, in courses of white stone, 
 with the intermediary spaces filled in with ashlar and 
 cement, one store}' high with an attic above. Over the 
 door was an enormous branch of pine, looking as though 
 it were cast in Florentine bronze. As if this symbol 
 were not explanatory enough, the eye was arrested by 
 the blue of a poster which was pasted over the doorway, 
 and on which appeared, above the words " Good Beer 
 of Mars," the picture of a soldier pouring out, in the 
 direction of a very decolletee woman, a jet of foam 
 which spurted in an arched line from the pitcher to the 
 glass which she was holding towards him ; the whole 
 of a color to make Delacroix swoon. 
 
 The ground-floor was occupied by an immense hall 
 serving both as kitchen and dining-room, from the beams 
 of which hung, suspended by huge nails, the provisions 
 needed for the custom of such a house. Behind this hall 
 a winding staircase led to the upper storey ; at the foot 
 of the staircase a door led into a low, long room lighted 
 from one of those little provincial courts, so narrow, 
 dark, and sunken between tall houses, as to seem like 
 the flue of a chimney. Hidden by a shed, and con- 
 
152 The Two Brothers. 
 
 cealed from all eyes by walls, this low room was the 
 place where the Bad B03-S of Issoudun held their plen- 
 ary court. Ostensibly, Pere Cognet boarded and lodged 
 the country-people on market-days ; secretly, he was 
 landlord to the Knights of Idleness. This man, who 
 was formerly groom in a rich household, had ended by 
 marrying La Cognette, a cook in a good family. The 
 suburb of Rome still continues, like Italy and Poland, 
 to follow the Latin custom of putting a feminine termi- 
 nation to the husband's name and giving it to the 
 wife. 
 
 By uniting their savings Pere Cognet and his spouse 
 had managed to buy their present house. La Cognette, 
 a woman of forty, tall and plump, with the nose of a 
 Roxelane, a swarthy skin, jet-black hair, brown eyes 
 that were round and lively, and a general air of mirth 
 and intelligence, was selected b}- Maxence Gilet, on 
 account of her character and her talent for cookery, as 
 the Leonarde of the Order. Pere Cognet might be 
 about fifty-six years old ; he was thick-set, very much 
 under his wife's rule, and, according to a witticism 
 which she was fond of repeating, he only saw things 
 with a good e}e — for he was blind of the other. In 
 the course of seven years, that is, from 1816 to 1823, 
 neither wife nor husband had betrayed in the smallest 
 particular what went on nightly at their house, or who 
 they were that shared in the plot ; thej- felt the live- 
 liest regard for all the Knights ; their devotion was 
 absolute. But this may seem less creditable if we 
 remember that self-interest was the security of their 
 affection and their silence. No matter at what hour of 
 the night the Knights dropped in upon the tavern, the 
 moment they knocked in a certain way Pere Cognet, 
 
The Two Brothers. 153 
 
 recognizing the signal, got up, lit the fire and the can- 
 dles, opened the door, and went to the cellar for a par- 
 ticular wine that was laid in expressly for the Order ; 
 while La Cognette cooked an excellent supper, eaten 
 either before or after the expeditions, which were 
 usually planned the previous evening or in the course 
 of the preceding day. 
 
154 The Two Brothers. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 While Joseph and Madame Bridau were journeying 
 from Orleans to Issoudun, the Knights of Idleness 
 perpetrated one of their best tricks. An old Spaniard, 
 a former prisoner of war, who after the peace had 
 remained in the neighborhood, where he did a small 
 business in grain, came early one morning to market, 
 leaving his empty cart at the foot of the tower of 
 Issoudun. Maxence, who arrived at a rendezvous of 
 the Knights, appointed on that occasion at the foot 
 of the tower, was soon assailed with the whispered 
 question, "What are we to do to-night?" 
 
 "Here's Pere Fario's cart," he answered. "I 
 nearly cracked my shins over it. Let us get it up on 
 the embankment of the tower in the first place, and 
 we '11 make up our minds afterwards." 
 
 When Richard Cceur-de-Lion built the tower of 
 Issoudun he raised it, as we have said, on the ruins 
 of the basilica, which itself stood above the Roman 
 temple and the Celtic Dun. These ruins, each of 
 which represents a period of several centuries, form a 
 mound big with the monuments of three distinct ages. 
 The tower is, therefore, the apex of a cone, from which 
 the descent is equalty steep on all sides, and which is 
 only approached by a series of steps. To give in a 
 few words an idea of the height of this tower, we may 
 compare it to the obelisk of Luxor on its pedestal. 
 The pedestal of the tower of Issoudun, which hid 
 
The Two Brothers. 155 
 
 within its breast such archaeological treasures, was 
 eighty feet high on the side towards the town. In an 
 hour the cart was taken off its wheels and hoisted, 
 piece by piece, to the top of the embankment at the 
 foot of the tower itself, — a work that was somewhat 
 like that of the soldiers who carried the artillery over 
 the pass of the Grand Saint-Bernard. The cart was 
 then remounted on its wheels, and the Knights, 
 by this time hungry and thirsty, returned to Mere 
 Cognette's, where the}' were soon seated round the 
 table in the low room, laughing at the grimaces Fario 
 would make when he came after his barrow in the 
 morning. 
 
 The Knights, naturally, did not pla} r such capers 
 eveiy night. The genius of Sganarelle, Mascarille, 
 and Scapin combined would not have sufficed to invent 
 three hundred and sixty-five pieces of mischief a 3'ear. 
 In the first place, circumstances were not always pro- 
 pitious : sometimes the moon shone clear, or the last 
 prank had greatly irritated their betters ; then one or 
 another of their number refused to share in some pro- 
 posed outrage because a relation was involved. But if 
 the scamps were not at Mere Cognette's every night, 
 they always met during the day, enjoying together the 
 legitimate pleasures of hunting, or the autumn vin- 
 tages and the winter skating. Among this assemblage 
 of twenty youths, all of them at war with the social 
 somnolence of the place, there were some who were 
 more closely allied than others to Max, and who made 
 him their idol. A character like his often fascinates 
 other youths. The two grandsons of Madame Hochon 
 — Francois Hochon and Baruch Borniche — were his 
 henchmen. These 3'oung fellows, accepting the gen- 
 
156 The Two Brothers. 
 
 eral opinion of the left-handed parentage of Lonsteau, 
 looked upon Max as their cousin. Max, moreover, 
 was liberal in lending them mone}' for their pleasures, 
 which their grandfather Hochon refused ; he took them 
 hunting, let them see life, and exercised a much greater 
 influence over them than their own family. Thej' were 
 both orphans, and were kept, although each had at- 
 tained his majority, under the guardianship of Monsieur 
 Hochon, for reasons which will be explained when Mon- 
 sieur Hochon himself comes upon the scene. 
 
 At this particular moment Francois and Baruch (we 
 will call them by their Christian names for the sake of 
 clearness) were sitting, one on each side of Max, at 
 the middle of a table that was rather ill lighted b}' the 
 fuliginous gleams of four tallow candles of eight to the 
 pound. A dozen to fifteen bottles of various wines had 
 just been drunk, for only eleven of the Knights were 
 present. Baruch — whose name indicates pretty clearly 
 that Calvinism still kept some hold on Issoudun — 
 said to Max, as the wine was beginning to unloose all 
 tongues, — 
 
 M You are threatened in your stronghold." 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " asked Max. 
 
 " Wiry, my grandmother has had a letter from 
 Madame Bridau, who is her goddaughter, saying that 
 she and her son are coming here. My grandmother 
 has been getting two rooms read}' for them." 
 
 "What's that to me?" said Max, taking up his 
 glass and swallowing the contents at a gulp with a 
 comic gesture. 
 
 Max was then thirty-four years old. A candle 
 standing near him threw a gleam upon his soldierly 
 face, lit up his brow, and brought out admirably his 
 
The Two Brothers. 157 
 
 clear skin, his ardent eyes, his black and slightly curling 
 hair, which had the brilliancy of jet. The hair grew vigor- 
 ous^ upward from the forehead and temples, sharply 
 defining those five black tongues which our ancestors 
 used to call the " five points." Notwithstanding this 
 abrupt contrast of black and white, Max's face was very 
 sweet, owing its charm to an outline like that which 
 Raphael gave to the faces of his Madonnas, and to a 
 well-cut mouth whose lips smiled graciously, giving an 
 expression of countenance which Max had made dis- 
 tinctively his own. The rich coloring which blooms on 
 a Berrichon cheek added still further to his look of 
 kindly good-humor. When he laughed heartily, he 
 showed thirt\'-two teeth worth}' of the mouth of a 
 pretty woman. In height about five feet six inches, 
 the 3 r oung man was admirably well-proportioned, — 
 neither too stout nor yet too thin. His hands, carefully 
 kept, were white and rather handsome ; but his feet 
 recalled the suburb and the foot-soldier of the Empire. 
 Max would certainly have made a good general of di- 
 vision ; he had shoulders that were worth a fortune to 
 a marshal of France, and a breast broad enough to wear 
 all the orders of Europe. Every movement betra}*ed 
 intelligence ; born with grace and charm, like nearl}* all 
 the children of love, the noble blood of his real father 
 came out in him. 
 
 " Don't you know, Max," cried the son of a former 
 surgeon-major named Goddet — now the best doctor 
 in the town — from the other end of the table, "that 
 Madame Hochon's goddaughter is the sister of Rouget ? 
 If she is coming here with her son, no doubt she means 
 to make sure of getting the property when he dies, and 
 then — good-by to your harvest ! " 
 
158 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Max frowned. Then, with a look which ran from 
 one face to another all round the table, he watched the 
 effect of this announcement on the minds of those 
 present, and again replied, — 
 
 "What's that to me?" 
 
 "But," said Francois, " I should think that if old 
 Rouget revoked his will, — in case he has made one in 
 favor of the Rabouilleuse — " 
 
 Here Max cut short his henchman's speech. " I 've 
 stopped the mouths of people who have dared to meddle 
 with you, m}' dear Francois," he said ; " and is this the 
 way you pay } T our debts? You use a contemptuous 
 nickname in speaking of a woman to whom I am known 
 to be attached." 
 
 Max had never before said as much as this about his 
 relations with the person to whom Francois had just 
 applied a name under which she was known at Issoudun. 
 The late prisoner at Cabrera — the major of the grena- 
 diers of the Guard — knew enough of what honor was 
 to judge rightly as to the causes of the disesteem in 
 which society held him. He had therefore never al- 
 lowed any one, no matter who, to speak to him on the 
 subject of Mademoiselle Flore Brazier, the servant-mis- 
 tress of Jean-Jacques Rouget, so energetically termed a 
 "slut" b} r the respectable Madame Hochon. Every- 
 body knew it was too ticklish a subject with Max, ever 
 to speak of it unless he began it ; and hitherto he had 
 never begun it. To risk his anger or irritate him was 
 altogether too dangerous ; so that even His best friends 
 had never joked him about th£ Rabouilleuse. When 
 they talked of his liaison with the girl before Major 
 Potel and Captain Renard, with whom he lived on in- 
 timate terms, Potel would reply, — 
 
 
The Two Brothers, 159 
 
 44 If he is the natural brother of Jean- Jacques Rouget 
 where else would 3*ou have him live ? " 
 
 44 Besides, after all," added Captain Renard,   the girl 
 is a worthless piece, and if Max does live with her 
 where 's the harm ? " 
 
 After this merited snub, Francois could not at once 
 catch up the thread of his ideas ; but he was still less 
 able to do so when Max said to him, gently, — 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Faith, no ! " cried Francois. 
 
 " You need n't get angry, Max," said 3'oung Goddet ; 
 44 did n't we agree to talk freely to each other at Mere 
 Cognette's? Should n't we all be mortal enemies if we 
 remembered outside what is said, or thought, or done 
 here ? All the town calls Flore Brazier the Rabouilleuse ; 
 and if Francois did happen to let the nickname slip 
 out, is that a crime against the Order of Idleness ? " 
 
 44 No," said Max, 44 but against our personal friend- 
 ship. However, I thought better of it ; I recollected we 
 were in session, and that was why I said 4 Go on.' " 
 
 A deep silence followed. The pause became so em- 
 barrassing for the whole company that Max broke it by 
 exclaiming : — 
 
 41 I'll go on for him [sensation], — for all of you 
 [amazement], — and tell 3-011 what 30U are thinking 
 [profound sensation]. You think that Flore, the 
 Rabouilleuse, La Brazier, the housekeeper of Pere Rou- 
 get, — for they call him so, that old bachelor, who 
 can never have any children ! — you think, I say, that 
 that woman supplies all my wants ever since I canv*> 
 back to Issoudun. If I am able to throw three hundred 
 francs a month to the dogs, and treat you to suppers, — 
 as I do to-night, — and lend money to all of you, 3 T ou 
 
160 The Two Brothers. 
 
 think I get the gold out of Mademoiselle Flore Brazier's 
 purse? Well, yes [profound sensation]. Yes, ten 
 thousand times yes ! Yes, Mademoiselle Brazier is 
 aiming straight for the old man's property." 
 
 " She gets it from father to son," observed Goddet, 
 in his corner. 
 
 "You think," continued Max, smiling at Goddet' s 
 speech, " that I intend to marry Flore when Pere Rou- 
 get dies, and so this sister and her son, of whom I hear 
 to-night for the first time, will endanger my future? " 
 
 " That's just it," cried Francois. 
 
 " That is what every one thinks who is sitting round 
 this table," said Baruch. 
 
 " Well, don't be uneasy, friends," answered Max. 
 " Forewarned is forearmed ! Now then, I address the 
 Knights of Idleness. If, to get rid of these Parisians I 
 need the help of the Order, will you lend me a hand ? 
 Oh ! within the limits we have marked out for our fool- 
 eries," he added hastily, perceiving a general hesita- 
 tion. " Do 3'ou suppose I want to kill them, — poison 
 them ? Thank God I 'm not an idiot. Besides, if the 
 Bridaus succeed, and Flore has nothing but what she 
 stands in, I should be satisfied ; do you understand 
 that? I love her enough to prefer her to Mademoiselle 
 Fichet, — if Mademoiselle Fichet would have me." 
 
 Mademoiselle Fichet was the richest heiress in Issou- 
 dun, and the hand of the daughter counted for much in 
 the reported passion of the younger Goddet for the 
 mother. Frankness of speech is a pearl of such price 
 that all the Knights rose to their feet as one man. 
 
 "You are a fine fellow, Max ! " 
 
 " Well said, Max ; we '11 stand by } T ou ! " 
 
 " A fig for the Bridaus ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 1G1 
 
 "We'll bridle them!" 
 
 "After all, it is only three swains to a shepherdess." 
 
 " The deuce ! Pere Lousteau loved Madame Rouget ; 
 is n't it better to love a housekeeper who is not 
 yoked?" 
 
 " If the defunct Rouget was Max's father, the affair is 
 in the family." 
 
 " Libert}' of opinion now-a-days ! " 
 
 " Hurrah for Max ! " 
 
 u Down with all hypocrites ! " 
 
 " Here 's a health to the beautiful Flore ! " 
 
 Such were the eleven responses, acclamations, and 
 toasts shouted forth by the Knights of Idleness, and 
 characteristic, we may remark, of their excessively re- 
 laxed morality. It is now easy to see what interest 
 Max had in becoming their grand master. By leading 
 the young men of the best families in their follies and 
 amusements, and by doing them services, he meant to 
 create a support for himself when the day for recover- 
 ing his position came. He rose gracefully and waved 
 his glass of claret, while all the others waited eagerly 
 for the coming allocution. 
 
 " As a mark of the ill-will I bear you, I wish you 
 all a mistress who is equal to the beautiful Flore ! As 
 to this irruption of relations, I don't feel any pres- 
 ent uneasiness ; and as to the future, we '11 see what 
 comes — " 
 
 44 Don't let us forget Fario's cart !" 
 
 " Hang it ! that 's safe enough ! " said Goddet. 
 
 "Oh! I '11 engage to settle that business," cried 
 Max. " Be in the market-place early, all of you, and let 
 me know when the old fellow goes for his cart." 
 
 It was striking half-past three in the morning as the 
 11 
 
1G2 The Two Brother*. 
 
 Knights slipped out in silence to go to their homes ; 
 gliding close to the walls of the houses without making 
 the least noise, shod as the}' were in list shoes. Max 
 slowly returned to the place Saint- Jean, situated in the 
 upper part of the town, between the port Saint-Jean 
 and the port Vilatte, the quarter of the rich bourgeoisie. 
 Maxence Gilet had concealed his fears, but the news 
 had struck home. His experience on the hulks at Ca- 
 brera had taught him a dissimulation as deep and thor- 
 ough as his corruption. First, and above all else, the 
 forty thousand francs a 3 T ear from landed property 
 which old Rouget owned was, let it be clearly under- 
 stood, the constituent element of Max's passion for 
 Flore Brazier. By his present bearing it is eas} T to see 
 how much confidence the woman had given him in the 
 financial future she expected to obtain through the in- 
 fatuation of the old bachelor. Nevertheless, the news 
 of the arrival of the legitimate heirs was of a nature to 
 shake Max's faith in Flore's influence. Rouget's sav- 
 ings, accumulating during the last seventeen years, still 
 stood in his own name ; and even if the will, which 
 Flore declared had long been made in her favor, were 
 revoked, these savings at least might be secured b}* 
 putting them in the name of Mademoiselle Brazier. 
 
 u That fool of a girl never told me, in all these seven 
 years, a word about the sister and nephews ! " cried 
 Max, turning from the rue de la Marmouse into the rue 
 l'Avenier. '* Seven hundred and fifty* thousand francs 
 placed with different notaries at Bourges, and Vierzon, 
 and Chateauroux, can't be turned into money and put 
 into the Funds in a week, without everybody knowing it 
 in this gossiping place ! The most important thing is 
 to get rid of these relations ; as soon as they are driven 
 
The Two Brothers. 163 
 
 away we ought to make haste to secure the property. 
 I must think it over." . 
 
 Max was tired. By help of a pass-key, he let him- 
 self into Pere Rouget's house, and went to bed without 
 making any noise, saying to himself, — 
 
 4i To-morrow, my thoughts will be clear." 
 
 It is now necessaiy to relate where the sultana of the 
 place Saint- Jean picked up the nickname of ' b Rabouil- 
 leuse," and how she came to be the quasi- mistress of 
 Jean- Jacques Rouget's home. 
 
 As old Doctor Rouget, the father of Jean-Jacques 
 and Madame Bridau, advanced in years, he began to 
 perceive the nonentity of his son ; he then treated him 
 harshly, tiying to break him into a routine that might 
 serve in place of intelligence. He thus, though uncon- 
 sciously, prepared him to submit to the yoke of the 
 first tyranny that threw its halter over his head. 
 
 Coming home one day from his professional round, 
 the malignant and vicious old man came across a be- 
 witching little girl at the edge of some fields that lay 
 along the avenue de Tivoli. Hearing the horse, the 
 child sprang up from the bottom of one of the many 
 brooks which are to be seen from the heights of Issou- 
 dun, threading the meadow's like ribbons of silver on a 
 green robe. Naiad-like, she rose suddenly on the doc- 
 tor's vision, showing the loveliest virgin head that 
 painters ever dreamed of. Old Rouget, who knew the 
 whole country-side, did not know this miracle of beauty. 
 The child, who was half naked, wore a forlorn little 
 petticoat of coarse woollen stuff, woven in alternate 
 stripes of brown and white, full of holes and very ragged. 
 A sheet of rough writing paper, tied on b} T a shred of 
 osier, served her for a hat. Beneath this paper — cov- 
 
164 The Two Brothers. 
 
 ered with pot-hooks and round O's, from which it derived 
 the name .of " schoolpaper " — the loveliest mass of 
 blonde hair that ever a daughter of Eve could have de- 
 sired, was twisted up, and held in place by a species of 
 comb made to comb out the tails of horses. Her pretty 
 tanned bosom, and her neck, scarcely covered by a 
 ragged fichu which was once a Madras handkerchief, 
 showed edges of the white skin below the exposed and 
 sun-burned parts. One end of her petticoat was drawn 
 between the legs and fastened with a huge pin in front, 
 giving that garment the look of a pair of bathing draw- 
 ers. The feet and the legs, which could be seen through 
 the clear water in which she stood, attracted the e3'e by 
 a delicacy which was worthy of a sculptor of the middle 
 ages. The charming limbs exposed to the sun had 
 a ruddy tone that was not without beauty of its own. 
 The neck and bosom were worthy of being wrapped in 
 silks and cashmeres ; and the nymph had blue eyes 
 fringed with long lashes, whose glance might have made 
 a painter or a poet fall upon his knees. The doctor, 
 enough of an anatomist to trace the exquisite figure, rec- 
 ognized the loss it would be to art if the lines of such a 
 model were destroyed by the hard toil of the fields. 
 
 44 Where do 3011 come from, little girl? I have never 
 seen you before," said the old doctor, then sixty-two 
 years of age. This scene took place in the month of 
 September, 1799. 
 
 44 1 belong in Vatan," she answered. 
 
 Hearing Rouget's voice, an ill-looking man, standing 
 at some distance in the deeper waters of the brook, 
 raised his head. 44 What are you about, Flore?" he 
 said, 44 While you are talking instead of catching, the 
 creatures will get away." 
 
The Two Brothers. 165 
 
 " Why have you come here from Vatan?" continued 
 the doctor, paying no heed to the interruption. 
 
 44 I am catching crabs for my uncle Brazier here." 
 
 Rabouiller is a Berrichon word which admirably de- 
 scribes the thing it is intended to express ; namely, the 
 action of troubling the water of a brook, making it 
 boil and bubble with a branch whose end-shoots spread 
 out like a racket. The crabs, frightened by this opera- 
 ation, which they do not understand, come hastily to 
 the surface, and in their flurry rush into the net the 
 fisher has laid for them .at a little distance. Flore 
 Brazier held her rabouilloir in her hand with the natu- 
 ral grace of childlike innocence. 
 
 44 Has your uncle got permission to hunt crabs? " 
 
 " Hey ! are not we all under a Republic that is one 
 and indivisible? " cried the uncle from his station. 
 
 44 We are under a Directory," said the doctor, " and 
 I know of no law which allows a man to come from 
 Vatan and fish in the territo^ of Issoudun ; " then 
 he said to Flore, " Have you got a mother, little 
 one ! " 
 
 "No, monsieur; and my father is in the asylum at 
 Bourges. He went mad from a sun-stroke he got in the 
 fields." 
 
 44 How much do you earn? " 
 
 " Five sous a day while the season lasts ; I catch 'em 
 as far as the Braisne. In harvest time, I glean ; in 
 winter, I spin." 
 
 ' ' You are about twelve years old ? " 
 
 44 Yes, monsieur." 
 
 11 Do you want to come with me? You shall be well 
 fed and well dressed, and have some pretty shoes." 
 
 44 No, my niece will stay with me ; I am responsible 
 
166 The Two Brothers. 
 
 to God and man for her," said Uncle Brazier who bad 
 come up to them. u Iam her guardian, dVe see? " 
 
 The doctor kept his countenance, and checked a smile 
 which might have escaped most people at the aspect of 
 the man. The guardian wore a peasant's hat, rotted by 
 sun and rain, eaten like the leaves of a cabbage that has 
 harbored several caterpillars, and mended, here and 
 there, with white thread. Beneath the hat was a dark 
 and sunken face, in which the mouth, nose, and eyes, 
 seemed four black spots. His forlorn jacket was a bit 
 of patchwork, and his trousers were of crash towelling. 
 
 u Iam Doctor Rouget," said that individual ; " and as 
 you are the guardian of the child, bring her to my house, 
 in the place Saint- Jean. It will not be a bad day's 
 work for you ; nor for her, either." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, and sure that Uncle 
 Brazier would soon appear with his pretty rabouilleuse, 
 Doctor Rouget set spurs to his horse and returned to 
 Issoudun. He had hardly sat down to dinner, before 
 his cook announced the arrival of the citoyen and citoy- 
 enne Brazier. 
 
 " Sit down," said the doctor to the uncle and niece. 
 
 Flore and her guardian, still barefooted, looked round 
 the doctor's dining-room with wondering eyes ; never 
 having seen its like before. 
 
 The house, which Rouget inherited from the Des- 
 coings estate, stands in the middle of the place Saint- 
 Jean, a so-called square, very long and very narrow, 
 planted with a few sickly lindens. The houses in this 
 part of the town are better built than elsewhere, and 
 that of the Descoings's was one of the finest. It stands 
 opposite to the house of Monsieur Hochon, and has 
 three windows in front on the first storey, and a porte- 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 167 
 
 cochere on the ground-floor which gives entrance to a 
 courtyard, beyond which lies the garden. Under the 
 archway of the porte-cochere is the door of a large hall 
 lighted by two windows on the street. The kitchen is 
 behind this hall, part of the space being used for a 
 staircase which leads to the upper floor and to the 
 attic above that. Beyond the kitchen is a wood-shed 
 and wash-house, a stable for two horses and a coach- 
 house, over which are some little lofts for the storage 
 of oats, ha}^, and straw, where, at that time, the doctor's 
 servant slept. 
 
 The hall which the little peasant and her uncle ad- 
 mired with such wonder is decorated with wooden 
 carvings of the time of Louis XV., painted gra} T , and 
 a handsome marble chimney-piece, over which Flore 
 beheld herself in a large mirror without any upper divi- 
 sion and with a carved and gilded frame. On the pan- 
 elled walls of the room, from space to space, hung 
 several pictures, the spoil of various religious houses, 
 such as the abbe3 r s of Deols, Issoudun, Saint-Gildas, 
 La Pree, Chezal-Benoit, Saint-Sulpice, and the convents 
 of Bourges and Issoudun, which the liberality of our 
 kings had enriched with the precious gift of the glorious 
 works called forth by the Renaissance. Among the 
 pictures obtained by the Descoings and inherited by 
 Rouget, was a Holy Family by Albano, a Saint-Jerome 
 of Domenichino, a Head of Christ by Gian Bellini, a 
 Virgin of Leonardo, a Bearing of the Cross by Titian, 
 which formerly belonged to the Marquis de Belabre 
 (the one who sustained a siege and had his head cut 
 off under Louis XIII.) ; a Lazarus of Paul Veronese, a 
 Marriage of the Virgin by the priest Genois, two church 
 paintings by Rubens, and a replica of a picture by 
 
168 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Perugino, done either by Perugino himself or b}' Raphael ; 
 and finally, two Correggios and one Andrea del Sarto. 
 
 The Descoings had culled these treasures from three 
 hundred church pictures, without knowing their value, 
 and selecting them only for their good preservation. 
 Many were not only in magnificent frames, but some 
 were still under glass. Perhaps it was the beaut}' of 
 the frames and the value of the glass that led the 
 Descoings to retain the pictures. The furniture of the 
 room was not wanting in the sort of luxury we prize 
 in these days, though at that time it had no value in 
 Issoudun. The clock, standing on the mantle-shelf be- 
 tween two superb silver candlesticks with six branches, 
 had an ecclesiastical splendor which revealed the hand of 
 Boulle. The armchairs of carved oak, covered with 
 tapestry-work due to the devoted industry of women 
 of high rank, would be treasured in these days, for 
 each was surmounted with a crown and coat- of- arms. 
 Between the windows stood a rich console, brought 
 from some castle, on whose marble slab stood an im- 
 mense China jar, in which the doctor kept his tobacco. 
 But neither Rouget, nor his son, nor the cook, took the 
 slightest care of all these treasures. They spat upon 
 a hearth of exquisite delicac}-, whose gilded mouldings 
 were now green with verdigris. A handsome chande- 
 lier, partly of semi-transparent porcelain, was peppered, 
 like the ceiling from which it hung, with black speckles, 
 bearing witness to the immunity enjoyed 03- the flies. 
 The Descoings had draped the windows with brocatelle 
 curtains torn from the bed of some monastic prior. To 
 the left of the entrance-door, stood a chest or coffer, 
 worth many thousand francs, which the doctor now used 
 for a sideboard, 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 169 
 
 " Here, Fanchette," cried Rouget to his cook, " bring 
 two glasses ; and give us some of the old wine." 
 
 Fanchette, a big Berrichon countrywoman, who was 
 considered a better cook than even La Cognette, ran in 
 to receive the order with a celerit}- which caid much for 
 the doctor's despotism, and something also for her own 
 curiosity. 
 
 kw What is an acre of vinej'ard worth in your 
 parts ? " asked the doctor, pouring out a glass of wine 
 for Brazier. 
 
 " Three hundred francs in silver." 
 
 ' ' Well, then ! leave 3-our niece here as my servant ; 
 she shall have three hundred francs in wages, and, as 
 you are her guardian, you can take them." 
 
 " Every year ? " exclaimed Brazier, with his eyes as 
 wide as saucers. 
 
 "I leave that to your conscience," said the doctor. 
 " She is an orphan ; up to eighteen, she has no right to 
 what she earns." 
 
 "Twelve to eighteen — that's six acres of vineyard !" 
 said the uncle. " Ay, she's a pretty one, gentle as a 
 lamb, well made and active, and obedient as a kitten. 
 She were the light o' my poor brother's eyes — " 
 
 " I will pay a year in advance," observed the doctor. 
 
 44 Bless me! say two years, and I'll leave her with 
 you, for she '11 be better off with you than with us ; my 
 wife beats her, she can't abide her. There 's none but 
 I to stand up for her, and the little saint of a creature 
 is as innocent as a new-born babe/' 
 
 When he heard the last part of this speech, the doc- 
 tor, struck by the word " innocent," made a sign to the 
 uncle and took him out into the courtyard and from 
 thence to the garden ; leaving the Rabouilleuse at the 
 
170 The Two Brothers. 
 
 table with Fanchette and Jean- Jacques, who immediately 
 questioned her, and to whom she naively related her 
 meeting with the doctor. 
 
 "There now, my little darling, good-b}-," said Uncle 
 Brazier, coming back and kissing Flore on the fore- 
 head ; " you can well say I've made your happiness hy 
 leaving you with this kind and worttry father of the 
 poor ; you must obey him as you would me. Be a good 
 girl, and behave nicely, and do everything he tells 
 
 you." 
 
 "Get the room over mine read}'," said the doctor to 
 Fanchette. " Little Flore — I am sure she is worthy of 
 the name — will sleep there in future. To-morrow, we '11 
 send for a shoemaker and a dressmaker. Put another 
 plate on the table ; she shall keep us company." 
 
 That evening, all Issoudun talked of nothing else than 
 the sudden appearance of the little rabouilleuse in Doc- 
 tor Rouget's house. In that region of satire the nick- 
 name stuck to Mademoiselle Brazier before, during, and 
 after the period of her good fortune. 
 
 The doctor no doubt intended to do with Flore Bra- 
 zier, in a small way, what Louis XV. did in a large 
 one with Mademoiselle de Romans ; but he was too late 
 about it ; Louis XV. was still 3'oung, whereas the doc- 
 tor was in the flower of old age. From twelve to 
 fourteen, the charming little Rabouilleuse lived a life 
 of unmixed happiness. Always well-dressed, and often 
 much better tricked out than the richest girls in Issou- 
 dun, she sported a gold watch and jewels, given by 
 the doctor to encourage her studies, and she had 
 a master who taught her to read, write, and cipher. 
 But the almost animal life of the true peasant had in- 
 stilled into Flore such deep repugnance to the bitter 
 
The Two Brothers. 171 
 
 cup of knowledge, that the doctor stopped her education 
 at that point. His intentions with regard to the child, 
 whom he cleansed, and clothed, and taught, and formed 
 with a care which was all the more remarkable because 
 he was thought to be utterly devoid of tenderness, 
 were interpreted in a variety of ways by the cackling 
 society of the town, whose gossip often gave rise to fatal 
 blunders, like those relating to the birth of Agathe and 
 that of Max. It. is not eas} 7 for the community of a 
 country town to disentangle the truth from the mass of 
 conjecture and contradictory reports to which a single 
 fact gives rise. The provinces insist — as in former 
 days the politicians of the little Provence at the Tuileries 
 insisted — on full explanations, and they usually end by 
 knowing everything. But each person clings to the 
 version of the event which he, or she, likes best ; pro- 
 claims it, argues it, and considers it the only true one. 
 In spite of the strong light cast upon people's lives by 
 the constant spying of a little town, truth is thus often 
 obscured ; and to be recognized, it needs the impar- 
 tiality which historians or superior minds acquire by 
 looking at the subject from a higher point of view. 
 
 " What do you suppose that old gorilla wants at his 
 age with a little girl only fifteen years old?" society 
 was still saying two years after the arrival of the 
 Rabouilleuse. 
 
 "Ah! that's true," they answered, "his days of 
 meny-making are long past." 
 
 " My dear fellow, the doctor is disgusted at the stu- 
 pidity of his son, and he persists in hating his daughter 
 Agathe ; it may be that he has been living a decent 
 life for the last two years, intending to many little 
 Flore ; suppose she were to give him a fine, active, 
 
172 The Two Brothers. 
 
 strapping boy, full of life like Max?" said one of the 
 wise heads of the town. 
 
 "Bah! don't talk nonsense! After such a life as 
 Rouget and Lousteau led from 1770 to 1787, is it likely 
 that either of them would have children at sixty-five 
 3'ears of age ? The old villain has read the Scriptures, 
 if only as a doctor, and he is doing as David did in his 
 old age ; that's all." 
 
 " They say that Brazier, when he is drunk, boasts in 
 Vatan that he cheated him," cried one of those who 
 always believed the worst of people. 
 
 "Good heavens! neighbor; what won't they say at 
 Issoudun ? " 
 
 From 1800 to 1805, that is, for five years, the doctor 
 enjoyed all the pleasures of educating Flore without the 
 annojances which the ambitions and pretensions of 
 Mademoiselle de Romans inflicted, it is said, on Louis 
 le Bien-Aime. The little Rabouilleuse was so satisfied 
 when she compared the life she led at the doctor's with 
 that she would have led at her uncle Brazier's, that she 
 yielded no doubt to the exactions of her master as if she 
 had been an Eastern slave. With due deference to the 
 makers of idyls and to philanthropists, the inhabitants 
 of the provinces have very little idea of certain virtues ; 
 and their scruples are of a kind that is roused by self- 
 interest, and not by any sentiment of the right or the 
 becoming. Raised from infanc}' with no prospect be- 
 fore them but poverty and ceaseless labor, they are led to 
 consider anything that saves them from the hell of hun- 
 ger and eternal toil as permissible, particularly if it is 
 not contrary to any law. Exceptions to this rule are 
 rare. Virtue, socially speaking, is the companion of a 
 comfortable life, and comes only with education. 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 173 
 
 Thus the Rabouilleuse was an object of envy to all 
 the young peasant-girls within a circuit of ten miles, 
 although her conduct, from a religious point of view, 
 was supremely reprehensible. Flore, born in 1787, grew 
 up in the midst of the saturnalias of 1793 and 1798, 
 whose lurid gleams penetrated these country regions, 
 then deprived of priests and faith and altars and relig- 
 ious ceremonies ; where marriage was nothing more than 
 legal coupling, and revolutionary maxims left a deep 
 impression. This was markedly the case at Issoudun, 
 a land where, as we have seen, revolt of all kinds is 
 traditional. In 1802, Catholic worship was scarcely 
 re-established. The Emperor found it a difficult matte- 
 to obtain priests. In 1806, many parishes all over 
 France were still widowed ; so slowly were the clergy, 
 decimated by the scaffold, gathered together again after 
 their violent dispersion. 
 
 In 1802, therefore, nothing was likely to reproach 
 Flore Brazier, unless it might be her conscience ; and 
 conscience was sure to be weaker than self-interest in 
 the ward of Uncle Brazier. If, as everybody chose to 
 suppose, the cynical doctor was compelled by his age 
 to respect a child of fifteen, the Rabouilleuse was none 
 the less considered very "wide awake," a term much 
 used in that region. Still, some persons thought she 
 could claim a certificate of innocence from the cessation 
 of the doctor's cares and attentions in the last two j'ears 
 of his life, during which time he showed her something 
 more than coldness. 
 
 Old Rouget had killed too man}' people not to know 
 when his own end was nigh ; and his notary, finding 
 him on his death-bed, draped as it were, in the mantle 
 of encyclopaedic philosophy, pressed him to make a pro- 
 
174 The Two Brothers. 
 
 vision in favor of the young girl, then seventeen years 
 
 old. 
 
 n So I do," he said, cynically ; " my death sets her 
 
 at liberty." 
 
 This speech paints the nature of the old man. Cov- 
 ering his evil doings with witty sayings, he obtained 
 indulgence for them, in a land where wit is always 
 applauded, — especially when addressed to obvious 
 self-interest. In those words the notary read the con- 
 centrated hatred of a man whose calculations had been 
 balked by Nature herself, and who revenged himself 
 upon the innocent object of an impotent love. This 
 opinion was confirmed to some extent by the obstinate 
 resolution of the doctor to leave nothing to the Rabouil- 
 leuse, saying with a bitter smile, when the notary again 
 urged the subject upon him, — 
 
 " Her beauty will make her rich enough ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Jean-Jacques Rouget did not mourn his father, 
 though Flore Brazier did. The old doctor had made 
 his son extremely unhappy, especially since he came of 
 age, which happened in 1791 ; but he had given the 
 little peasant-girl the material pleasures which are the 
 ideal of happiness to country-folk. When Fanchette 
 asked Flore, after the funeral, M Well, what is to be- 
 come of you, now that monsieur is dead ? " Jean-Jacques's 
 eyes lighted up, and for the first time in his life his 
 dull face grew animated, showed feeling, and seemed to 
 brighten under the rays of a thought. 
 
 "Leave the room," he said to Fanchette, who was 
 clearing the table. 
 
 At seventeen, Flore retained that delicac} T of feature 
 and form, that distinction of beauty which attracted the 
 doctor, and which women of the world know how to 
 preserve, though it fades among the peasant-girls like 
 the flowers of the field. Nevertheless, the tendency to 
 embonpoint, which handsome countrywomen develop 
 when the}' no longer live a life of toil and hardship in 
 the fields and in the sunshine, was already noticeable 
 about her. Her bust had developed. The plump white 
 shoulders were modelled on rich lines that harmoniously 
 blended with those of the throat, already showing a few 
 folds of flesh. But the outline of the face was still 
 faultless, and the chin delicate. 
 
176 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Flore." said Jean-Jacques, in a trembling voice, 
 41 you feel at home in this house?" 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur Jean." 
 
 As the heir was about to make his declaration, he 
 felt his tongue stiffen at the recollection of the dead 
 man, just put away in his grave, and a doubt seized him 
 as to what lengths his father's benevolence might have 
 gone. Flore, who was quite unable even to suspect his 
 simplicity of mind, looked at her future master and 
 waited for a time, expecting Jean- Jacques to go on with 
 what he was saying; but she finally left him without 
 knowing what to think of such obstinate silence. What- 
 ever teaching the Rabouilleuse may have received from 
 the doctor, it was many a long day before she fully 
 understood the character of Jean-Jacques, whose history 
 we now present in a few words. 
 
 At the death of his father, Jacques, then thirty-seven, 
 was as timid and submissive to paternal discipline as a 
 child of twelve years old. That timidity ought to ex- 
 plain his childhood, }outh, and after-life to those who 
 are reluctant to admit the existence of such characters, 
 or such facts as this history relates, — though proofs of 
 them are, alas, common everywhere, even among princes ; 
 for Sophie Dawes was taken by the last of the Condes 
 under worse circumstances than the Rabouilleuse. There 
 are two species of timidity, — the timidity of the mind, 
 and the timidity of the nerves ; a phjsical timidity, and 
 a moral timidity. The one is independent of the other. 
 The body may fear and tremble, while the mind is calm 
 and courageous, or vice versa. This is the key to many 
 moral eccentricities. When the two are united in one 
 man, that man will be a cipher all his life ; such double- 
 sided timidity makes him what we call " an imbecile." 
 
The Two Brothers. 177 
 
 Often fine suppressed qualities are hidden within that 
 imbecile. To this double infirmity we maj', perhaps, owe 
 the lives of certain monks who lived in ecstasy ; for this 
 unfortunate moral and physical disposition is produced 
 quite as much by the perfection of the soul and of the 
 organs, as by defects which are still unstudied. 
 
 The timidity of Jean-Jacques came from a certain 
 torpor of his faculties, which a great teacher or a great 
 surgeon, like Despleins, would have roused. In him, 
 as in the cretins, the sense of love had inherited a 
 strength and vigor which were lacking to his mental 
 qualities, though he had mind enough to guide him in 
 ordinary affairs. The violence of passion, stripped of 
 the ideal in which most young men expend it, only in- 
 creased his timidity. He had never brought himself to 
 court, as the saying is, any woman in Issoudun. Cer- 
 tainly no young girl or matron would make advances 
 to a 3'oung man of mean stature, awkward and shame- 
 faced in attitude ; whose vulgar face, with its flattened 
 features and pallid skin, making him look old before 
 his time, was rendered still more hideous by a pair of 
 large and prominent light-green eyes. The presence of 
 a woman stultified the poor fellow, who was driven 
 by passion on the one hand as violently as the lack of 
 ideas, resulting from his education, held him back on 
 the other. Paralyzed between these opposing forces, 
 he had not a word to say, and feared to be spoken to, 
 so much did he dread the obligation of replying. De- 
 sire, which usually sets free the tongue, only petrified 
 his powers of speech. Thus it happened that Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget was solitary ard sought solitude be* 
 cause there alone he was at his case. 
 
 The doctor had seen, too late for re/nedy, th& havov 
 12 
 
178 The Two Brothers. 
 
 wrought in his son's life b}' a temperament and a char- 
 acter of this kind. He would have been glad to get him 
 married ; but to do that, he must deliver him over to an 
 influence that was certain to become tyrannical, and the 
 doctor hesitated. Was it not practically giving the 
 whole management of the property into the hands of a 
 stranger, some unknown girl? The doctor knew how 
 difficult it was to gain true indications of the moral 
 character of a woman from an} T stud}' of a young girl. 
 So, while he continued to search for a daughter-in-law 
 whose sentiments and education offered some guar- 
 antees for the future, he endeavored to push his son 
 into the ways of avarice ; meaning to give the poor 
 fool a sort of instinct that might eventually take the 
 place of intelligence. 
 
 He trained him, in the first place, to mechanical 
 habits of life ; and instilled into him fixed ideas as 
 to the investment of his revenues : and he spared 
 him the chief difficulties of the management of a for- 
 tune, b}' leaving his estates all in good order, and 
 leased for long periods. Nevertheless, a fact which 
 was destined to be of paramount importance in the life 
 of the poor creature escaped the notice of the wily old 
 doctor. Timidity is a good deal like dissimulation, and 
 is equally secretive. Jean-Jacques was passionately in 
 love with the Rabouilleuse. Nothing, of course, could 
 be more natural. Flore was the only woman who lived 
 in the bachelor's presence, the only one he could see at 
 his ease ; and at all hours he secretly contemplated her 
 and watched her. To him, she was the light of his pa- 
 ternal home ; she gave him, unknown to herself, the 
 only pleasures that brightened his youth. Far from be- 
 ing jealous of his father, he rejoiced in the education the 
 
The Two Brothers. 179 
 
 old man was giving to Flore : would it not make her all 
 he wanted, a woman easy to win, and to whom, there- 
 fore, he need pay no court? The passion, observe, 
 which is able to reflect, gives even to ninnies, fools, and 
 imbeciles a species of intelligence, especially in youth. 
 In the lowest human creature we find an animal instinct 
 whose persistency resembles thought. 
 
 The next day, Flore, who had been reflecting on her 
 master's silence, waited in expectation of some momen- 
 tous communication ; but although he kept near her, 
 and looked at her on the sly with passionate glances, 
 Jean-Jacques still found nothing to sa}\ At last, when 
 the dessert was on the table, he recommenced the scene 
 of the night before. 
 
 " You like your life here?" he said to Flore. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur Jean." 
 
 " Well, stay here then." 
 
 " Thank 3-ou, Monsieur Jean." 
 
 This strange situation lasted three weeks. One night, 
 when no sound broke the stillness of the house, Flore, 
 who chanced to wake up, heard the regular breathing of 
 human lungs outside her door, and was frightened to 
 discover Jean-Jacques, crouched like a dog on the 
 landing. 
 
 u He loves me," she thought; "but he will get the 
 rheumatism if he keeps up that sort of thing." 
 
 The next da}' Flore looked at her master with a cer- 
 tain expression. This mute almost instinctive love had 
 touched her ; she no longer thought the poor ninny so 
 ugly, though his forehead was crowned with pimples 
 resembling ulcers, the signs of a vitiated blood. 
 
 " You don't want to go back and live in the fields, do 
 you ? " said Jean-Jacques when they wore alone. 
 
180 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Why do yon ask me that? " she said, looking at him. 
 
 " To know — " replied Rouget, turning the color of a 
 boiled lobster. 
 
 " Do you wish to send me back? " she asked. 
 
 "No, mademoiselle." 
 
 "Well, what is it you want to know? You have 
 some reason — " 
 
 "Yes, I want to know — " 
 
 "What?" said Flore. 
 
 "You won't tell me?" exclaimed Rouget. 
 
 " Yes I will, on my honor — " 
 
 a Ah! that's it," returned Rouget, with a frightened 
 air. " Are 30U an honest girl? " 
 
 "I'll take my oath — " 
 
 " Are you, truly?" 
 
 " Don't }*ou hear me tell 30U so? " 
 
 " Come; are you the same as you were when your 
 uncle brought you here barefooted ? " 
 
 " A fine question, faith ! " cried Flore, blushing. 
 
 The heir lowered his head and did not raise it again. 
 Flore, amazed at such an encouraging sign from a man 
 who had beon overcome by a fear of that nature, left 
 the room. 
 
 Three days later, at the same hour (for both seemed 
 to regard the dessert as a field of battle), Flore spoke 
 first, and said to her master, — 
 
 " Have you anything against me? " 
 
 "No, mademoiselle," he answered, "No — [a pause] 
 On the contrary." 
 
 "You seemed annoyed the other day to hear I was 
 an honest girl." 
 
 "No, I only wished to know — [a pause] But you 
 would not tell me — " 
 
The Two Brothers. 181 
 
 "On my word ! " she said, "I will tell you the whole 
 truth." 
 
 4 k The whole truth about — my father ? " he asked in 
 a strangled voice. 
 
 " Your father," she said, looking full into her master's 
 e3'e, "was a worthy man — he liked a joke — What 
 of that? — there was nothing in it. But, poor dear man, 
 it was n't the will that was wanting. The truth is, he 
 had some spite against you, I don't know what, and he 
 meant — oh ! he meant }-ou harm. Sometimes he made 
 me laugh ; but there ! what of that ? " 
 
 " Well, Flore," said the heir, taking her hand, " as 
 my father was nothing to you — " 
 
 "What did }'ou suppose he was to me?" she cried, 
 as if offended by some unworthy suspicion. 
 
 "Well, but just listen — " 
 
 "He was my benefactor, that was all. Ah! he 
 would have liked to make me his wife, but — " 
 
 " But," said Rouget, taking the hand which Flore had 
 snatched away from him, "if he was nothing to you 
 you can stay here with me, can't .you? " 
 
 " If you wish it," she said, dropping her eyes. 
 
 ' ' No, no ! if you wish it, 3-ou ! " exclaimed Rouget. 
 "Yes, you shall be — mistress here. All that is here 
 shall be yours ; you shall take care of m} r property, it 
 is almost yours now — for I love you ; I have always 
 loved you since the day you came and stood there — 
 there ! — with bare feet." 
 
 Flore made no answer. When the silence became 
 embarrassing, Jean-Jacques had recourse to a terrible 
 argument. 
 
 " Come," he said, with visible warmth, " wouldn't it 
 be better than returning to the fields ? " 
 
182 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " As you will, Monsieur Jean," she answered. 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of her " as you will," Jean- 
 Jacques got no further. Men of his nature want cer- 
 tainty. The effort that they make in avowing their 
 love is so great, and costs them so much, that they feel 
 unable to go on with it. This accounts for their attach- 
 ment to the first woman who accepts them. We can 
 only guess at circumstances by results. Ten months 
 after the death of his father, Jean-Jacques changed 
 completely ; his leaden face cleared, and his whole 
 countenance breathed happiness. Flore exacted that 
 he should take minute care of his person, and her own 
 vanity was gratified in seeing him well-dressed ; she 
 always stood on the sill of the door, and watched him 
 starting for a walk, until she could see him no longer. 
 The whole town noticed these changes, which had made 
 a new man of the bachelor.. 
 
 4 ' Have you heard the news ? " people said to each 
 other in Issoudun. 
 
 44 What is it?" 
 
 44 Jean- Jacques inherits everything from his father, 
 even the Rabouilleuse." 
 
 44 Don't 3"ou suppose the old doctor was wicked 
 enough to provide a ruler for his son?" 
 
 44 Rouget has got a treasure, that's certain," said 
 everybody. 
 
 44 She 's a sly one ! She is very handsome, and she 
 will make him marry her." 
 
 S 4 What luck that girl has had, to be sure ! " 
 
 44 The luck that only comes to pretty girls." 
 
 44 Ah, bah! do you believe that? look at nvy uncle 
 Borniche-IIerau. You have heard of Mademoiselle 
 Ganivet? she was as ugly as the seven capital sins, but 
 
The Two Brothers. 183 
 
 for all that, she got three thousand francs a 3*ear out of 
 him." 
 
 4k Yes, but that was in 1778." 
 
 M Still, Rouget is making a mistake. His father left 
 him a good forty thousand francs' income, and he ought 
 to many Mademoiselle Herau." 
 
 44 The doctor tried to arrange it, but she would not 
 consent ; Jean-Jacques is so stupid — " 
 
 4 4 Stupid ! why women are very happy with that 
 style of man." 
 
 44 Is your wife happy ? " 
 
 Such was the sort of tattle that ran through Issou- 
 dun. If people, following the use and wont of the 
 provinces, began by laughing at this quasi-marriage, 
 they ended b} T praising Flore for devoting herself to 
 the poor fellow. We now see how it was that Flore 
 Brazier obtained the management of the Rouget house- 
 hold, — from father to son, as } T oung Goddet had said. 
 It is desirable to sketch the history of that management 
 for the edification of old bachelors. 
 
 Fanchette, the cook, was the only person in Issoudun 
 who thought it wrong that Flore Brazier should be 
 queen over Jean-Jacques Rouget and his home. She 
 protested against the immorality of the connection, and 
 took a tone of injured virtue ; the fact being that she 
 was humiliated by having, at her age, a crab-girl for a 
 mistress, — a child who had been brought barefoot into 
 the house. Fanchette owned three hundred francs a 
 year in the Funds, for the doctor had made her invest 
 her savings in that way, and he had left her as much 
 more in an annuitj- ; she could therefore live at her 
 ease without the necessity of working, and she quitted 
 the house nine months after the funeral of her old 
 
184 The Two Brothers. 
 
 master, April 15, 1806. That date may indicate, to a 
 perspicacous observer, the epoch at which Flore Brazier 
 ceased to be an honest girl. 
 
 The Rabouilleuse, clever enough to foresee Fan- 
 chette's probable defection, — there is nothing like the 
 exercise of power for teaching policy, — was already 
 resolved to do without a servant. For six months she 
 had studied, without seeming to do so, the culinarj' op- 
 erations that made Fanchette a cordon-bleu worthy of 
 cooking for a doctor. In the matter of choice living, doc- 
 tors are on a par with bishops. The doctor had brought 
 Fanchette's talents to perfection. In the provinces the 
 lack of occupation and the monotony of existence turn 
 all activity of mind towards the kitchen. People do not 
 dine as luxuriously in the country as they do in Paris, 
 but they dine better ; the dishes are meditated upon and 
 studied. In rural regions we often find some Careme 
 in petticoats, some unrecognized genius able to serve a 
 simple dish of haricot-beans worthy of the nod with 
 which Rossini welcomed a perfectly-rendered measure. 
 
 When studying for his degree in Paris, the doctor 
 had followed a course of chemistry under Rouelle, and 
 had gathered some ideas which he afterwards put to 
 use in the chemistry of cooking. His memory is famous 
 in Issoudun for certain improvements little known out- 
 side of Berry. It was he who discovered that an ome- 
 let is far more delicate when the whites and the yolks 
 are not beaten together with the violence which cooks 
 usually put into the operation. He considered that the 
 whites should be beaten to a froth and the }'olks gentty 
 added b\ r degrees ; moreover a frying-pan should never 
 be used, but a " cagnard" of porcelain or earthenware. 
 The cagnard is a species of thick dish standing on four 
 
The Two Brothers. 185 
 
 feet, so that when it is placed on the stove the air cir- 
 culates underneath and prevents the fire from cracking 
 it. In Touraine the cagnard is called a cauquemarre. 
 Rabelais, I think, speaks of a cauquemarre for cooking 
 cockatrice eggs, thus proving the antiquity of the uten- 
 sil. The doctor had also found a wa} T to prevent the 
 tartness of browned butter ; but this secret, which un- 
 luckily he kept to his own kitchen, has been lost. 
 
 Flore, a born fryer and roaster, two qualities that 
 can never be acquired hy observation nor j T et by labor, 
 soon surpassed Fanchette. In making herself a cordon- 
 bleu she was thinking of Jean-Jacques's comfort ; 
 though she was, it must be owned, tolerably daint}'. 
 Incapable, like all persons without education, of doing 
 an3 r tliing with her brains, she spent her activity upon 
 household matters. She rubbed up the furniture till 
 it shone, and kept everything about the house in a 
 state of cleanliness worthy of Holland. She managed 
 the avalanches of soiled linen and the floods of water 
 that go by the name of " the wash," which was done, 
 according to provincial usage, three times a year. She 
 kept a housewifely eye to the linen, and mended it 
 carefulty. Then, desirous of learning little by little 
 the secrets of the family property, she acquired the 
 very limited business knowledge which Rouget pos- 
 sessed, and increased it by conversations with the 
 notary of the late doctor, Monsieur Heron. Thus in- 
 structed, she gave excellent advice to her little Jean- 
 Jacques. Sure of being always mistress, she was as 
 eager and solicitous about the old bachelor's interests 
 as if the}' had been her own. She was not obliged to 
 guard against the exactions of her uncle, for two 
 months before the doctor's death Brazier died of a fall, 
 
186 The Two Brothers. 
 
 as he was leaving a wine-shop, where, since his rise in 
 fortune, he spent most of his time. Flore had also lost 
 her father : thus she served her master with all the 
 affection which an orphan, thankful to make herself a 
 home and a settlement in life, would naturally feel. 
 
 This period of his life was paradise to poor Jean- 
 Jacques, who now acquired the gentle habits of an 
 animal, trained into a sort of monastic regularitj-. He 
 slept late. Flore, who was up at daybreak attending 
 to her housekeeping, woke him so that he should 
 find his breakfast ready as soon as he had finished 
 dressing. After breakfast, about eleven o'clock, Jean- 
 Jacques went to walk ; talked with the people he met, 
 and came home at three in the afternoon to read the 
 papers, — those of the department, and a journal from 
 Paris which he received three days after publication, 
 well greased b} 7 the thirty hands through which it came, 
 browned by the snuffy noses that had pored over it, 
 and soiled by the various tables on which it had lain. 
 The old bachelor thus got through the day until it was 
 time for dinner ; over that meal he spent as much 
 time as it was possible to give to it. Flore told him 
 the news of the town, repeating the cackle that was 
 current, which she had carefully picked up. Towards 
 eight o'clock the lights were put out. Going to bed 
 earlv is a saving of fire and candles very commonly 
 practised in the provinces, which contributes no doubt 
 to the empt} T -mindedness of the inhabitants. Too much 
 sleep dulls and weakens the brain. 
 
 Such was the life of these two persons during a 
 period of nine years, the great events of which were 
 a few journeys to Bourges, Vierzon, Chateauroux, or 
 somewhat farther, if the notaries of those towns and 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 187 
 
 Monsieur Heron had no investments ready for accept- 
 ance. Rouget lent his money at five per cent on a first 
 mortgage, with release of the wife's rights in case 
 the owner was married. He never lent more than a 
 third of the value of the property, and required notes 
 payable to his order for an additional interest of two 
 and a half per cent spread over the whole duration of 
 the loan. Such were the rules his father had told him 
 to follow. Usu^, that clog upon the ambition of the 
 peasantry, is the destroyer of country regions. This 
 lev} 7 of seven and a half per cent seemed, therefore, so 
 reasonable to the borrowers that Jean-Jacques Rouget 
 had his choice of investments ; and the notaries of the 
 different towns, who got a fine commission for them- 
 selves from clients for whom they obtained money on 
 such good terms, gave due notice to the old bachelor. 
 
 During these nine years Flore obtained in the long 
 run, insensibly and without aiming for it, an absolute 
 control over her master. From the first, she treated 
 him \evy familiarly ; then, without failing in proper 
 respect, she so far surpassed him in superiority of mind 
 and force of character that he became in fact the ser- 
 vant of his servant. Elderly child that he was, he met 
 this mastery half-wa}' by letting Flore take such care of 
 him that she treated him more as a mother would a son ; 
 and he himself ended by clinging to her with the feel- 
 ing of a child dependent on a mother's protection. 
 But there were other ties between them not less tightly 
 knotted. In the first place, Flore kept the house and 
 managed all its business. Jean-Jacques left everything 
 to the crab-girl so completely that life without her would 
 have seemed to him not only difficult, but impossible. 
 In every way, this woman had become the one need of 
 
188 The Two Brothers. 
 
 his existence ; she indulged all his fancies, for she knew 
 them well. He loved to see her bright face always 
 smiling at him, — the only face that had ever smiled upon 
 him, the onh' one to which he could look for a smile. 
 This happiness, a purely material happiness, expressed 
 in the homely words which come readiest to the tongue 
 in a Berrichon household, and visible on the fine coun- 
 tenance - of the j'oiing woman, was like a reflection of his 
 own inward content. The state ink) which Jean-Jacques 
 was thrown when Flore's brightness was clouded over 
 by some passing anno3*ance revealed to the girl her 
 power over him, and, to make sure of it, she sometimes 
 liked to use it. Using such power means, with women 
 of her class, abusing it. The Rabouilleuse, no doubt, 
 made her master pla} T some of those scenes buried in 
 the mysteries of private life, of which Otway gives a 
 specimen in the tragedy of " Venice Preserved," where 
 the scene between the senator and Aquilina is the reali- 
 zation of the magnificently horrible. Flore felt so se- 
 cure of her power that, unfortunately for her, and for 
 the bachelor himself, it did not occur to her to make 
 him marry her. 
 
 Towards the close of 1815, Flore, who was then 
 twenty-seven, had reached the perfect development of 
 her beauty. Plump and fresh, and white as a Norman 
 countrywoman, she was the ideal of what our ancestors 
 used to call " a buxom housewife." Her beauty, al- 
 ways that of a handsome barmaid, though higher in type 
 and better kept, gave her a likeness to Mademoiselle 
 George in her palmj T daj's, setting aside the latter's im- 
 perial dignity. Flore had the dazzling white round 
 arms, the ample modelling, the satiny texture of the 
 skin, the alluring though less rigidly correct outlines of 
 
 8 ot 
 
The Two Brothers. 189 
 
 the great actress. Her expression was one of sweetness 
 and tenderness ; but her glance commanded less respect 
 than that of the noblest Agrippina that ever trod the 
 French stage since the days of Racine : on the contrary, 
 it evoked a vulgar J03-. In 1816 the Rabouilleuse saw 
 Maxence Gilet, and fell in love with him at first sight. 
 Her heart was cleft by the mythological arrow, — ad- 
 mirable description of an effect of nature which the 
 Greeks, unable to conceive the chivalric, ideal, and 
 melancholy love begotten of Christianity, could repre- 
 sent in no other way. Flore was too handsome to be 
 disdained, and Max accepted his conquest. 
 
 Thus, at twenty-eight years of age, the Rabouilleuse 
 felt for the first time a true love, an idolatrous love, the 
 love which includes all ways of loving, — that of Gul- 
 nare and that of Meclora. As soon as the penniless of- 
 ficer found out the respective situations of Flore and 
 Jean-Jacques Rouget, he saw something more desirable 
 than an amourette in an intimac}- with the Rabouilleuse. 
 He asked nothing better for his future prosperity than 
 to take up his abode at Rouget's, recognizing perfectly 
 the feeble nature of the old bachelor. Flore's passion 
 necessarily affected the life and household affairs of her 
 master. For a month the old man, now grown ex- 
 cessively timid, saw the laughing and kindly face of his 
 mistress change to something terrible and gloomy and 
 sullen. He was made to endure flashes of angry temper 
 purposely displaj-ed, precisely like a married man whose 
 wife is meditating an infidelity. When, after some 
 cruel rebuff, he nerved himself to ask Flore the reason 
 of the change, her eyes were so full of hatred, and her 
 voice so aggressive and contemptuous, that the poor 
 creature quailed under them. 
 
190 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " she cried ; " you have neither heart 
 nor soul ! Here 's sixteen years that I have spent my 
 youth in this house, and I have only just found out that 
 you have got a stone there (striking her breast). 
 For two months you have seen before your eyes that 
 brave captain, a victim of the Bourbons, who was cut 
 out for a general, and is down in the depths of poverty, 
 hunted into a hole of a place where there 's no way to 
 make a penn} T of mone\ T ! He 's forced to sit on a stool 
 all day in the mayor's office to earn — what? Six hun- 
 dred miserable francs, — a fine thing, indeed ! And 
 here are 3-011, with six hundred and fifty-nine thousand 
 well invested, and sixty thousand francs' income, — 
 thanks to me, who never spend more than three thou- 
 sand a year, everything included, even m} T own clothes, 
 yes, everj'thing ! — and you never think of offering him 
 a home here, though there 's the second floor empty ! 
 You 'd rather the rats and mice ran riot in it than put 
 a human being there, — and he a lad your father al- 
 waj-s allowed to be his own son ! Do you want to 
 know what you are ? I '11 tell you, — a fratricide ! And 
 I know why, too. You see I take an interest in him, and 
 that provokes you. Stupid as you seem, you have got 
 more spite in } T ou than the spitefullest of men. Well, 
 yes ! I do take an interest in him, and a keen one — " 
 
 4 'But, Flore — " 
 
 " « But, Flore,' indeed ! What 's that got to do with 
 it? You may go and find another Flore (if you can !), 
 for I hope this glass of wine may poison me if I don't 
 get away from" .your dungeon of a house. I have n't, 
 God be thanked ! cost you one penny during the twelve 
 years I 've been with you, and you have had the pleasure 
 of nry company into the bargain. 1 could have earned 
 
The Two Brothers. 191 
 
 my own living anywhere with the work that I 've done 
 here, — washing, ironing, looking after the linen, going 
 to market, cooking, taking care of your interests before 
 everything, slaving myself to death from morning till 
 night, — and this is my reward ! " 
 "But, Flore — " 
 
 44 Oh, yes, ' Flore' ! find another Flore, if } t ou can, at 
 your time of life, fifty-one years old, and getting feeble, 
 — for the way your health is failing is frightful, I know 
 that ! and besides, you are none too amusing — " 
 M But, Flore — " 
 " Let me alone! " 
 
 She' went out, slamming the door with a violence that 
 echoed through the house, and seemed to shake it to 
 its foundations. Jean-Jacques softly opened the door 
 and went, still more softly, into the kitchen where she 
 was muttering to herself. 
 
 44 But, Flore," said the poor sheep, " this is the first 
 time I have heard of this wish of yours ; how do you 
 know whether I will agree to it or not? " 
 
 4k In the first place," she said, " there ought to be a 
 man in the house. Everybody knows you have ten, 
 fifteen, twenty thousand francs here ; if the} 7 came to 
 rob you we should both be murdered. For m} T part, I 
 don't care to wake up some fine morning chopped in 
 quarters, as happened to that poor servant-girl who was 
 silly enough to defend her master. Well ! if the robbers 
 knew there was a man in the house as brave as Caesar 
 and who was n't born yesterda}*, — for Max could swal- 
 low three burglars as quick as a flash, — well, then I 
 should sleep eas\\ People may tell you a lot of stuff, 
 — that I love him, that I adore him, — and some say 
 this and some say that ! Do you know what you ought 
 
192 Tfte Two Brothers. 
 
 to say ? You ought to answer that you know it ; that 
 your father told 3*011 on his deathbed to take care of 
 his poor Max. That will stop people's tongues ; for 
 every stone in Issoudun can tell you he paid Max's 
 schooling — and so! Here's nine years that I have 
 eaten your bread — " 
 
 "Flore, —Flore!" 
 
 44 — and many a one in this town has paid court to 
 me, I can tell you ! Gold chains here, and watches 
 there, — what don't they offer me? - My little Flore,' 
 they say, - why won't 3*ou leave that old fool of a 
 Rouget ' — for that's what they call you. -I leave 
 him ! ' I always answer, - a poor innocent like that? I 
 think I see myself! what would become of him? No, 
 no, where the kid is tethered, let her browse — ' " 
 
 44 Yes, Flore; I've none but you in this world, and 
 3 t ou make me happ3*. If it will give 30U pleasure, 
 my dear, well, we will have Maxence Gilet here ; he 
 can eat with us — " 
 
 44 Heavens ! I should hope so ! " 
 
 14 There, there ! don't get angi'3* — " 
 
 44 Enough for one is enough for two," she answered 
 laughing. 44 1 '11 tell you what you can do, my lamb, 
 if 3'ou realty mean to be kind ; 3*011 must go and 
 walk up and down near the Mayor's office at four 
 o'clock, and manage to meet Monsieur Gilet and invite 
 him to dinner. If he makes excuses, tell him it will 
 give me pleasure ; he is too polite to refuse. And after 
 dinner, at dessert, if he tells 3*ou about his misfortunes, 
 and the hulks and so forth — for 3*ou can easity get him 
 to talk about all that — then 3*ou can make him the offer 
 to come and live here. If he makes any objection, 
 never mind, I shall know how to settle it." 
 
The Two Brothers. 193 
 
 Walking slowly along the boulevard Baron, the old 
 celibate reflected, as much as he had the mind to reflect, 
 over this incident. If he were to part from Flore (the 
 mere thought confused him) where could he find an- 
 other woman ? Should he marry ? At his age he should 
 be married for his money, and a legitimate wife would 
 use him far more cruelly than Flore. Besides, the 
 thought of being deprived of her tenderness, even if it 
 were a mere pretence, caused him horrible anguish. He 
 was therefore as polite to Captain Gilet as he knew how 
 to be. The invitation was given, as Flore had re- 
 quested, before witnesses, to guard the hero's honor 
 from all suspicion. 
 
 A reconciliation took place between Flore and her 
 master ; but from that day forth Jean-Jacques noticed 
 many a trifle that betokened a total change in his mis- 
 tress's affections. For two or three weeks Flore Brazier 
 complained to the tradespeople in the markets, and to 
 the women with whom she gossiped, about Monsieur 
 Rouget's tyranny, — how he had taken it into his head 
 to invite his self-styled natural brother to live with him. 
 No one, however, was taken in by this corned}* ; and 
 Flore was looked upon as a wonderfully clever and 
 artful creature. Old Rouget really found himself very 
 comfortable after Max became the master of his house ; 
 for he thus gained a companion who paid him many at- 
 tentions, without, however, showing any servility. Gilet 
 talked, discussed politics, and sometimes went to walk 
 with Rouget. After Max was fairly installed, Flore did 
 not choose to do the cooking ; she said it spoiled her 
 hands. At the request of the grand master of the Order 
 of the Knights of Idleness, Mere Cognette produced one 
 of her relatives, an old maid whose master, a curate, had 
 
 13 
 
194 The Two Brothers. 
 
 lately died without leaving her anything, — an excellent 
 cook, withal, — who declared she would devote herself 
 for life or death to Max T and Flore. In the name of 
 the two powers, Mere Cognette promised her an annuity 
 of three hundred francs a 3-ear at the end of ten 3-ears, 
 if she served them kn'ally, honestly, and discreetly. 
 The Vedie, as she was called, was noticeable for a face 
 deeply pitted by the small-pox, and correspondingly 
 
 ugly. 
 
 After the new cook had entered upon her duties, the 
 Rabouilleuse took the title of Madame Brazier. She 
 wore corsets ; she had silk, or handsome woollen and 
 cotton dresses, according to the season, expensive neck- 
 erchiefs, embroidered caps and collars, lace ruffles at her 
 throat, boots instead of shoes, and, altogether, adopted 
 a richness and elegance of apparel which renewed the 
 youthful ness of her appearance. She was like a rougli 
 diamond, that needed cutting and mounting by a jew- 
 eller to bring out its full value. Her desire was to do 
 honor to Max. At the end of the first } T ear, in 1817, 
 she brought a horse, st}ied English, from Bourges, for 
 the poor cavalry captain, who was weary of going 
 afoot. Max had picked up in the purlieus of Issou- 
 dun an old lancer of the Imperial Guard, a Pole named 
 Kouski, now very poor, who asked nothing better than 
 to quarter himself in Monsieur Rouget's house as the 
 captain's servant. Max was Kouski's idol, especially 
 after the duel with the three royalists. So, from 1817, 
 the household of the old bachelor was made up of five 
 persons, three of whom were masters, and the expenses 
 advanced to about eight thousand francs a year. 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 195 
 
 X. 
 
 At the time when Madame Bridau returned to Issou- 
 dun to save — as Maitre Desroches expressed it — 
 an inheritance that was seriously threatened, Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget had reached by degrees a condition 
 that was semi-vegetative. In the first place, after 
 Max's instalment, Flore put the table on an episcopal 
 footing. Rouget, thrown in the wa}^ of good living, 
 ate more and still more, enticed by the Vedie's excel- 
 lent dishes. He grew no fatter, however, in spite of 
 this abundant and luxurious nourishment. From day 
 to day he weakened like a worn-out man, — fatigued, 
 perhaps, with the effort of digestion, — and his eyes 
 had dark circles around them. Still, when his friends 
 and neighbors met him in his walks and questioned 
 him about his health, he always answered that he was 
 never better in his life. As he had always been 
 thought extremely deficient in mind, people did not 
 notice the constant lowering of his faculties. His love 
 for Flore was the one thing that kept him alive ; in 
 fact, he existed only for her, and his weakness in her 
 presence was unbounded ; he obeyed the creature's 
 mere look, and watched her movements as a dog 
 watches every gesture of his master. In short, as 
 Madame Hochon remarked, at fifty-seven years of 
 age he seemed older than Monsieur Hochon, an 
 
196 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Every one will suppose, and with reason, that Max's 
 appartement was worthy of so charming a fellow. In 
 fact, in the course of six years our captain had by 
 degrees perfected the comfort of his abode and adorned 
 every detail of it, as much for his own pleasure as for 
 Flore's. But it was, after all, only the comfort and 
 luxury of Issoudun, — colored tiles, rather elegant wall- 
 papers, mahogany furniture, mirrors in gilt frames, 
 muslin curtains with red borders, a bed with a canopy, 
 and draperies arranged as the provincial upholsterers 
 arrange them for a rich bride ; which in the eyes of 
 Issoudun seemed the height of luxury, but are so com- 
 mon in vulgar fashion-plates that even the petty shop- 
 keepers in Paris have discarded them at their weddings. 
 One very unusual thing appeared, which caused much 
 talk in Issoudun, namely, a rush-matting on the stairs, no 
 doubt to muffle the sound of feet. In fact, though Max 
 was in the habit of coming in at daybreak, he never 
 woke any one, and Rouget was far from suspecting 
 that his guest was an accomplice in the nocturnal per- 
 formances of the Knights of Idleness. 
 
 About eight o'clock the next morning, Flore, wear- 
 ing a dressing-gown of some pretty cotton stuff with 
 narrow pink stripes, a lace cap on her head, and her 
 feet in furred slippers, softly opened the door of Max's 
 chamber ; seeing that he slept, she remained standing 
 beside the bed. 
 
 " He came in so late!" she said to herself. " It 
 was half-past three. He must have a good constitution 
 to stand such amusements. Is n't he strong, the dear 
 love ! I wonder what they did last night." 
 
 "Oh, there you are, my little Flore!" said Max, 
 waking like a soldier trained by the necessities of war 
 
The Two Brothers. 197 
 
 to have his wits and his self-possession about him the in- 
 stant that he waked, however suddenly it might happen. 
 
 M You are sleepy ; I '11 go away." 
 
 44 No, stay ; there 's something serious going on." 
 
 44 Were } r ou up to some mischief last night?" 
 
 % 'Ah, bah! It concerns you and me and that old 
 fool. You never told me he had a family ! Well, his 
 family are coming, — coming here, — no doubt to turn 
 us out, neck and crop." 
 
 44 Ah ! I '11 shake him well," said Flore. 
 
 44 Mademoiselle Brazier," said Max gravely, " things 
 are too serious for giddiness. Send me my coffee ; 
 I'll take it in bed, where I'll think over what we had 
 better do. Come back at nine o'clock, and we '11 talk 
 about it. Meantime, behave as if you had heard 
 nothing." 
 
 Frightened at the news, Flore left Max and went to 
 make his coffee ; but a quarter of an hour later, Baruch 
 burst into Max's bedroom, crying out to the grand 
 master, — 
 
 44 Fario is hunting for his barrow ! " 
 
 In five minutes Max was dressed and in the street ; 
 and though he sauntered along with apparent indiffer- 
 ence, he soon reached the foot of the tower embank- 
 ment, where he found quite a collection of people. 
 
 44 What is it?" asked Max, making his way through 
 the crowd and reaching the Spaniard. 
 
 Fario was a withered little man, as ugly as though 
 he were a blue-blooded grandee. His fiery eyes, placed 
 very close to his nose and piercing as a gimlet, would 
 have won him the name of a sorcerer in Naples. He 
 seemed gentle because he was calm, quiet, and slow in 
 his movements ; and for this reason people commonly 
 
198 The Two Brothers. 
 
 called him " goodman Fario." But his skin — the 
 color of gingerbread — and his softness of manner only 
 hid from stupid eyes, and disclosed to observing ones, 
 the half-Moorish nature of a peasant of Granada, 
 which nothing had as yet roused from its phlegmatic 
 indolence. 
 
 44 Are you sure," Max said to him, after listening to his 
 grievance, " that you brought your cart to this place? 
 for, thank God, there are no thieves in Issoudun." 
 
 "Heft it just there — " 
 
 44 If the horse was harnessed to it, has n't he drawn 
 it somewhere ? " 
 
 44 Here 's the horse," said Fario, pointing to the ani- 
 mal, which stood harnessed thirty feet away. 
 
 Max went gravely up to the place where the horse 
 stood, because from there the bottom of the tower at 
 the top of the embankment could be seen, — the crowd 
 being at the foot of the mound. Everybody followed 
 Max, and that was what the rascal wanted. 
 
 44 Has anybody thoughtlessly put a cart in his 
 pocket?" cried Francois. 
 
 " Turn out 3'our pockets, all of 30U ! " said Baruch. 
 
 Shouts of laughter resounded on all sides. Fario 
 swore. Oaths, with a Spaniard, denote the highest 
 pitch of anger. 
 
 44 Was your cart light? " asked Max. 
 
 44 Light ! " cried Fario. 44 If those who laugh at me 
 had it on their feet, their corns would never hurt them 
 again." 
 
 44 Well, it must be devilishly light," answered Max, 
 44 for look there! " pointing to the foot of the tower; 
 44 it has flown up the embankment." 
 
 At these words all eyes were lifted to the spot, and 
 
The Two Brothers. 199 
 
 for a moment there was a perfect uproar in the market- 
 place. Each man pointed at the barrow bewitched, 
 and all their tongues wagged. 
 
 " The devil makes common cause with the inn- 
 keepers," said Goddet to the astonished Spaniard. 
 tk He means to teach 3011 not to leave your cart about 
 in the streets, but to put it in the tavern stables." 
 
 At this speech the crowd hooted, for Fario was 
 thought to be a miser. 
 
 "Come, my good fellow," said Max, "don't lose 
 heart. We '11 go up to the tower and see how yonr 
 barrow got there. Thunder and cannon ! we '11 lend 
 you a hand ! Come along, Baruch. 
 
 "As for you," he whispered to Francois, "get the 
 people to stand back, and make sure there is nobody at 
 the foot of the embankment when you see us at the 
 top." 
 
 Fario, Max, Baruch, and three other knights climbed 
 to the foot of the tower. During the rather perilous 
 ascent Max and Fario noticed that no damage to the 
 embankment, nor even trace of the passage of the 
 barrow, could be seen. Fario began to imagine witch- 
 craft, and lost his head. When they reached the top 
 and examined into the matter, it realty seemed a thing 
 impossible that the cart had got there. 
 
 " How shall I ever get it down?" said the Spaniard, 
 whose little eyes began for the first time to show fear; 
 while his swarthy yellow face, which seemed as if it 
 could never change color, whitened. 
 
 " How ? " said Max. " Why, that 's not difficult." 
 
 And taking advantage of the Spaniard's stupefac- 
 tion, he raised the barrow hy the shafts with his robust 
 arms and prepared to fling it down, calling in thunder- 
 
 IVERSITT 
 
200 The Two Brothers. 
 
 ing tones as it left his grasp, " Look out there, 
 below ! " 
 
 No accident happened, for the crowd, persuaded by 
 Francois and eaten up with curiosit} r , had retired to a 
 distance from which they could see more clearly what 
 went on at the top of the embankment. The cart was 
 dashed to an infinite number of pieces in a very pic- 
 turesque manner. 
 
 14 There ! you have got it down," said Baruch. 
 
 " Ah, brigands ! ah, scoundrels ! " cried Fario ; " per- 
 haps it was you who brought it up here ! " 
 
 Max, Baruch, and their three comrades began to 
 laugh at the Spaniard's rage. 
 
 14 I wanted to do you a service," said Max cooll}', 
 " and in handling the damned thing I came verj* near 
 flinging nryself after it ; and this is how you thank me, 
 is it ? What country do you come from ? " 
 
 " I come from a country where the}' never forgive," 
 replied Fario, trembling with rage. " My cart will be 
 the cab in which you shall drive to the devil ! — unless," 
 he said, suddenly becoming as meek as a lamb, " you 
 will give me a new one." 
 
 "We will talk about that," said Max, beginning to 
 descend. 
 
 When they reached the bottom and met the first 
 hilarious group, Max took Fario by a button of his 
 jacket and said to him, — 
 
 " Yes, my good Fario, I '11 give you a magnificent 
 cart, if you will give me two hundred and fifty francs ; 
 but I won't warrant it to go, like this one, up a tower." 
 
 At this last jest Fario became as cool as though 
 he were making a bargain. 
 
 " Damn it! " he said, " give me the wherewithal to 
 
The Two Brothers. 201 
 
 replace my barrow, and it will be the best use you ever 
 made of old Rouget's money." 
 
 Max turned livid ; he raised his formidable fist to 
 strike Fario ; but Barueh, who knew that the blow 
 would descend on others besides the Spaniard, plucked 
 the latter away like a feather and whispered to Max, — 
 
 " Don't commit such a folly ! " 
 
 The grand master, thus called to order, began to 
 laugh and said to Fario, — 
 
 " If I, by accident, broke your barrow, and you in 
 return try to slander me, we are quits." 
 
 "Not 3'et," muttered Fario. "But I am glad to 
 know what my barrow was worth." 
 
 "Ah, Max, you've found your match!" said a 
 spectator of the scene, who did not belong to the Order 
 of Idleness. 
 
 "Adieu, Monsieur Gilet. I haven't thanked you 
 yet for lending me a hand," cried the Spaniard, as he 
 kicked the sides of his horse and disappeared amid 
 loud hurrahs. 
 
 " We will keep the tires of the wheels for you," 
 shouted a wheelwright, who had come to inspect the 
 damage done to the cart. 
 
 One of the shafts was sticking upright in the ground, 
 as straight as a tree. Max stood by, pale and thought- 
 ful, and deeply annoyed by Fario's speech. For five 
 days after this, nothing was talked of in Issoudun but 
 the tale of the Spaniard's barrow ; it was even fated 
 to travel abroad, as Goddet remarked, — - for it went 
 the round of Berry, where the speeches of Fario and 
 Max were repeated, and at the end of a week the affair, 
 greatly to the Spaniard's satisfaction, was still the talk 
 of the three departments and the subject of endless 
 
202 The Two Brothers. 
 
 gossip. In consequence of the vindictive Spaniard's 
 terrible speech, Max and the Rabouilleuse became the 
 object of certain comments which were merely whis- 
 pered in Issoudun, though they were spoken aloud in 
 Bourges, Vatan, Vierzon, and Chateauroux. Maxence 
 Gilet knew enough of that region of country to guess 
 how envenomed such comments would become. 
 
 44 We can't stop their tongues," he said at last. 
 44 Ah ! I did a foolish thing ! " 
 
 44 Max ! " said Francois, taking his arm. 4k They are 
 coming to-night." 
 
 44 They! Who!" 
 
 44 The Bridaus. M3- grandmother has just had a 
 letter from her goddaughter." 
 
 44 Listen, my boy," said Max in a low voice. 44 I 
 have been thinking deeply of this matter. Neither 
 Flore nor I ought to seem opposed to the Bridaus. If 
 these heirs are to be got rid of, it is for c you Hochons to 
 drive them out of Issoudun. Find out what sort of 
 people they are. To-morrow at Mere Cognette's, after 
 I 've taken their measure, we can decide what is to be 
 done, and how we can set your grandfather against 
 them." 
 
 44 The Spaniard found the flaw in Max's armor," 
 said Baruch to his cousin Francois, as they turned 
 into Monsieur Hochon's house and watched their com- 
 rade entering his own door. 
 
 While Max was thus emploj'ed, Flore, in spite of 
 her friend's advice, was unable to restrain her wrath ; 
 and without knowing whether she would help or hinder 
 Max's plans, she burst forth upon the poor bachelor. 
 When Jean-Jacques incurred the anger of his mistress, 
 the little attentions and vulgar fondlings which were all 
 
The Two Brothers. 203 
 
 his Joy were suddenly suppressed. Flore sent' her 
 master, as the children say, into disgrace. No more 
 tender glances, no more of the caressing little words in 
 various tones with which she decked her conversation, 
 — " my kitten," " my old darling," •*- my bibi," "mj- 
 rat," etc. A "you," cold and sharp and ironically re- 
 spectful, cut like the blade of a knife through the heart 
 of the miserable old bachelor. The M you" was a dec- 
 laration of war. Instead of helping the poor man with 
 his toilet, handing him what he wanted, forestalling his 
 wishes, looking at him with the sort of admiration which 
 all women know how to express, and which, in some 
 cases, the coarser it is the better it pleases, — saying, 
 for instance, " You look as fresh as a rose ! " or, "What 
 health you have!" "How handsome you are, my old 
 Jean ! " — in short, instead of entertaining him with 
 the lively chatter and broad jokes in which he de- 
 lighted, Flore left him to dress alone. If he called her, 
 she answered from the foot of the staircase, " I can't 
 do everything at once ; how can I look after your 
 breakfast and wait upon 3*011 up there? Are not you 
 big enough to dress your own self?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! w*hat have I done to displease her?" 
 the old man asked himself that morning, as he got one 
 of these rebuffs after calling for his shaving-water. 
 
 " Vedie, take up the hot water," cried Flore. 
 
 " Vedie ! " exclaimed the poor man, stupefied with 
 fear of the anger that was crushing him. "Vedie, 
 what is the matter with Madame this morning?" 
 
 Flore Brazier required her master and Vedie and 
 Kouski and Max to call her Madame. 
 
 " She seems to have heard something about 3*011 
 which is n't to 3*0111* credit," answered Vedie, assuming 
 
204 The Two Brothers. 
 
 an air of deep concern. " You are doing wrong, mon- 
 sieur. I 'm only a poor servant-woman, and you may 
 sa} T I have no right to poke my nose into your affairs ; 
 but I do say 30U may search through all the women in 
 the world, like that king in holy Scripture, and you 
 won't find the equal of Madame. You ought to kiss 
 the ground she steps on. Goodness ! if you make her 
 unhappy, you '11 only spoil 30m* own life. There she 
 is, poor thing, with her eyes full of tears." 
 
 Vedie left the poor man utterly cast down ; he 
 dropped into an armchair and gazed into vacanc3 r like 
 the melancholy imbecile that he was, and forgot to shave. 
 These alternations of tenderness and severity worked 
 upon this feeble creature whose onty life was through 
 his amorous fibre, the same morbid effect which great 
 changes from tropical heat to arctic cold produce upon 
 the human body. It was a moral pleuris3', which wore 
 him out like a physical disease. Flore alone could 
 thus affect him ; for to her, and to her alone, he was as 
 good as he was foolish. 
 
 "Well, have n't 30U shaved 3'et? " she said, appear- 
 ing at his door. 
 
 Her sudden presence made the old man start vio- 
 lentty ; and from being pale and cast down he grew red 
 for an instant, without, however, daring to complain of 
 her treatment. 
 
 M Your breakfast is waiting," she added. " You can 
 come down as you are, in dressing-gown and slippers ; 
 for you '11 breakfast alone, I can tell 3*011." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared. 
 To make him breakfast alone was the punishment he 
 dreaded most; he loved to talk to her as he ate his 
 meals. When he got to the foot of the staircase he 
 
The Two Brothers. 205 
 
 was taken with a fit of coughing ; for emotion excited 
 his catarrh. 
 
 "Cough away! " said Flore in the kitchen, without 
 caring whether he heard her or not. " Confound the 
 old wretch ! he is able enough to get over it without 
 bothering others. If he coughs up his soul, it will 
 only be after — " 
 
 Such were the amenities the Rabouilleuse addressed 
 to Rouget when she was angiy. The poor man sat 
 down in deep distress at a corner of the table in the 
 middle of the room, and looked at his old furniture and 
 the old pictures with a disconsolate air. 
 
 " You might at least have put on a cravat," said 
 Flore. " Do you think it is pleasant for people to see 
 such a neck as yours, which is redder and more 
 wrinkled than a turkey's ? " 
 
 "But what have I done?" he asked, lifting his big 
 light-green eyes, full of tears, to his tormentor, and 
 trying to face her hard countenance. 
 
 "What have you done?" she exclaimed. "As if 
 you did n't know? Oh, what a hypocrite ! Your sister 
 Agathe — who is as much your sister as T am sister of 
 the tower of Issoudun, if one 's to believe your father, 
 and who has no claim at all upon you — is coming here 
 from Paris with her son, a miserable two-penny painter, 
 to see you." 
 
 "My sister and my nephews coming to Issoudun!" 
 he said, bewildered. 
 
 "Oh, yes! play the surprised, do; try to make me 
 believe you did n't send for them ! sewing your lies 
 with white thread, indeed! Don't fash 3'ourself; we 
 won't trouble your Parisians — before they set their feet 
 in this house, we shall have shaken the dust of it off 
 
206 The Two Brothers. 
 
 ours. Max and I will be gone, never to return. As 
 for your will, I '11 tear it in quarters under 3'our nose, 
 and to your very beard — do you hear ? Leave your 
 property to your family, if you don't think we are your 
 family : and then see if you '11 be loved for yourself by 
 a lot of people who have not seen you for thirty years, 
 — who in fact have never seen }'ou ! Is it that sort of 
 sister who can take my place? A pinchbeck saint ! " 
 
 44 If that's all, my little Flore," said the old man, " I 
 won't receive my sister, or my nephews. I swear to 
 3'ou this is the first word I have heard of their coming. 
 It is all got up by that Madame Hochon — a sancti- 
 monious old — " 
 
 Max, who overheard old Rouget's words, entered 
 suddenly, and said in a masterful tone, — 
 
 44 What's all this?" 
 
 44 My good Max," said the old man, glad to get the 
 protection of the soldier who, by agreement with Flore, 
 always took his side in a dispute, 44 I swear \)y all that 
 is most sacred, that I now hear this news for the first 
 time. I have never written to m} 7 sister ; my father made 
 me promise not to leave her any of my propert}- ; to 
 leave it to the Church sooner than to her. Well, I 
 won't receive my sister Agathe in this house, or her 
 sons — " 
 
 44 Your father was wrong, m} T dear Jean-Jacques, and 
 Madame Brazier is still more wrong," answered Max. 
 44 Your father no doubt had his reasons, but he is dead, 
 and his hatred should die with him. Your sister is 
 3*our sister, and your nephews are your nephews. You 
 owe it to yourself to welcome them, and you owe it to 
 us as well. What would people say in Issoudun? 
 Thunder! I've got enough upon my shoulders as it 
 
The Two Brothers. 207 
 
 is, without hearing people saj- that we shut you up and 
 don't allow you a will of your own, or that we influence 
 you against 3'our relations and are trying to get hold 
 of your property. The devil take me if I don't pull 
 up stakes and be off, if that sort of calumny is to be 
 flung at me ! the other is bad enough ! Let 's eat our 
 breakfast." 
 
 Flore, who was now as mild as a weasel, helped 
 Veclie to set the table. Old Rouget, full of admiration 
 for Max, took him by both hands and led him into 
 the recess of a window, saying in a low voice : — 
 
 " Ah ! Max, if I had a son, I couldn't love him better 
 than I love you. Flore is right : you two are my real 
 family. You are a man of honor, Max, and what you 
 have just said is true." 
 
 ' \ You ought to receive and entertain yoxxv sister and 
 her son, but not change the arrangements you have 
 made about your property," said Max. "In that way 
 you will do what is right in the eyes of the world, and 
 3 r et keep your promise to your father." 
 
 "Well! my dear loves!" cried Flore, gayly, "the 
 salmi is getting cold. Come, my old rat, here 's a wing 
 for you," she said, smiling on Jean- Jacques. 
 
 At the words, the long-drawn face of the poor crea- 
 ture lost its cadaverous tints, the smile of a Theriaki 
 flickered on his pendent lips ; but he was seized with 
 another fit of coughing ; for the joy of being taken back 
 to favor excited as violent an emotion as the punish- 
 ment itself. Flore rose, pulled a little cashmere shawl 
 from her own shoulders and tfed it round the old man v 
 throat, exclaiming : " How silly to put yourself in such 
 a way about nothing. There, you old goose, that will 
 Jo you good ; it has been next my heart — " 
 
208 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " What a good creature ! " said Rouge t to Max, 
 while Flore went to fetch a black velvet cap to cover 
 the nearly bald head of the old bachelor. 
 
 11 As good as she is beautiful ; " answered Max, "but 
 she is quick-tempered, like all people who carry their 
 hearts in their hands." 
 
 The baldness of this sketch may displease some, who 
 will think the flashes of Flore's character belong to the 
 sort of realism which a painter ought to leave in shadow. 
 Well ! this scene, played again and again with shocking 
 variations, is, in its coarse way and its horrible veracity, 
 the type of such scenes played by women on whatever 
 rung of the social ladder they^ are perched, when an}* 
 interest, no matter what, draws them from their own 
 line of obedience and induces them to grasp at power. 
 In their ej'es, as in those of politicians, all means to 
 an end are justifiable. Between Flore Brazier and a 
 duchess, between a duchess and the richest bourgeoise, 
 between a bourgeoise and the most luxuriously kept 
 mistress, there are no differences except those of the 
 education they have received, and the surroundings in 
 which they live. The pouting of a fine lady is the same 
 thing as the violence of a Rabouilleuse. At all levels, 
 bitter sa3*ings, ironical jests, cold contempt, hypocritical 
 complaints, false quarrels, win as much success as the 
 low outbursts of this Madame Everard of Issoudun. 
 
 Max began to relate, with much humor, the tale of 
 Fario and his barrow, which made the old man laugh. 
 Vedie and Kouski, who came to listen, exploded in the 
 kitchen, and as to Flore, she laughed convulsively. Af- 
 ter breakfast, while Jean-Jacques read the newspapers 
 (for they subscribed to the " Constitutionel " and the 
 --Pandore"), Max carried Flore to his own quarters. 
 
The Two Brothers. 209 
 
 " Are you quite sure he has not made any other will 
 since the one in which he left the property to you? " 
 
 " He hasn't anything to write with," she answered. 
 
 " He might have dictated it to some notaiy," said 
 Max ; "we must look out for that. Therefore it is well 
 to be cordial to the Bridaus, and at the same time en- 
 deavor to turn those mortgages into mone}\ The nota- 
 ries will be only too glad to make the transfers ; it is 
 grist to their mill. The Funds are going up ; we shall 
 conquer Spain, and deliver Ferdinand VII. and the Cor- 
 tez, and then the}* will be above par. You and I could 
 make a good thing of it by putting the old fellow's 
 seven hundred and fifty thousand francs into the Funds 
 at eighty-nine. Only you must try to get it done in 
 3-our name ; it will be so much secured anyhow." 
 
 " A capital idea ! " said Flore. 
 
 "And as there will be an income of fifty thousand 
 francs from eight hundred and ninety thousand, we must 
 make him borrow one hundred and forty thousand francs 
 for two years, to be paid back in two instalments. In two 
 years, we shall get one hundred thousand francs in Paris, 
 and ninety thousand here, and risk nothing." 
 
 "If it were not for }*ou, my handsome Max, what 
 would become of me now?" she said. 
 
 "Oh! to-morrow night at Mere Cognette's, after I 
 have seen the Parisians, I shall find a way to make 
 the Hochons themselves get rid of them." 
 
 " Ah ! what a head you Ve got, my angel ! You are 
 a love of a man." 
 
 The place Saint-Jean is at the centre of a long street 
 called at the upper end the rue Grande Narette, and at 
 the lower the rue Petite Narette. The word " Narette " 
 is used in Berry to express the same lay of the land as 
 
 14 
 
210 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the Genoese word salita indicates, — that is to say, a 
 steep street. The Grande Narette rises rapidly from 
 the place Saint-Jean to the porte Vilatte. The house of 
 old Monsieur Hochon is exactly opposite that of Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget. From the windows of the room where 
 Madame Hochon usually sat, it was eas\~ to see what 
 went on at the Rouget household, and vice versa, when 
 the curtains were drawn back or the doors were left open. 
 The Hochon house was like the Rouget house, and the 
 two were doubtless built by the same architect. Mon- 
 sieur Hochon, formerly tax-collector at Selles in Beny, 
 born, however, at Issoudun, had returned to his native 
 place and married the sister of the sub-delegate, the gay 
 Lousteau, exchanging his office at Selles for another of 
 the same kind at Issoudun. Having retired before 1787, 
 he escaped the clangers of the Revolution, to whos^ prin- 
 ciples, however, he firmly adhered, like all other " honest 
 men " who howl with the winners. Monsieur Hochon 
 came honestly by the reputation of miser. But it would 
 be mere repetition to sketch him here. A single speci- 
 men of the avarice which made him famous will suffice 
 to make yo\x see Monsieur Hochon as he was. 
 
 At the wedding of his daughter, now dead, who mar- 
 ried a Borniche, it was necessary to give a dinner to the 
 Borniche famifv. The bridegroom, who was heir to a 
 large fortune, had suffered great mortification from hav- 
 ing mismanaged his property, and still more because 
 his father and mother refused to help him out. The old 
 people, who were living at the time of the marriage, were 
 delighted to see Monsieur Hochon step in as guardian, 
 — for the purpose, of course, of making his daughter's 
 dowry secure. On the day of the dinner, which was 
 given to celebrate the signing of the marriage contract, 
 
The Two Brothers. 211 
 
 the chief relations of the two families were assembled 
 in the salon, the Hochons on one side, the Borniches on 
 the other, — all in their best clothes. While the con- 
 tract was being solemnly read aloud by young Heron, 
 the notary, the cook came into the room and asked 
 Monsieur Hochon for some twine to truss up the turkey, 
 — an essential feature of the repast. The old man dove 
 into the pocket of his surtout and pulled forth a bit of 
 string, which had evidently already served to tie up a 
 parcel, and gave it to her ; but before she could leave 
 the room he called out, " Gritte, mind you give it back 
 to me ! " (Gritte is the abbreviation used in Berry for 
 Marguerite.) 
 
 From year to year old Hochon grew more petty in his 
 meanness, and more penurious ; and at this time he was 
 eighty-five years old. He belonged to the class of men 
 who stop short in the street, in the middle of a lively 
 dialogue, and stoop to pick up a pin, remarking, as the3' 
 stick it in the sleeve of their coat, u There 's the wife's 
 stipend." He complained bitterly of the poor quality 
 of the cloth manufactured now-a-days, and called atten- 
 tion to the fact that his coat had lasted only ten years. 
 Tall, gaunt, thin, and sallow ; saying little, reading- 
 little, and doing nothing to fatigue himself; as observ- 
 ant of forms as an oriental, — he enforced in his own 
 house a discipline of strict abstemiousness, weighing 
 and measuring out the food and drink of the family, 
 which, indeed, was rather numerous, and consisted of 
 his wife, nee Lousteau, his grandson Borniche with a 
 sister Adolphine, the heirs of old Borniche, and lastly, 
 his other grandson, Francois Hochon. 
 
 Hochon's eldest son was taken by the draft of 1813, 
 which drew in the sons of well-to-do families who had 
 
212 The Two Brothers. 
 
 escaped the regular conscription, and were now formed 
 into a corps styled the ''guards of honor." This heir- 
 presumptive, who was killed at Hanau, had married early 
 in life a rich woman, intending thereby to escape all con- 
 scriptions ; but after he was enrolled, he wasted his sub- 
 stance, under a presentiment of his end. His wife, who 
 followed the army at a distance, died at Strasburg in 
 1814, leaving debts which her father-in-law Hochon 
 refused to pay, — answering the creditors with an axiom 
 of ancient law, " Women are minors." 
 
 The house, though large, was scantily furnished ; on 
 the second floor, however, there were two rooms suit- 
 able for Madame Bridau and Joseph. Old Hochon now 
 repented that he had kept them furnished with two beds, 
 each bed accompanied by an old armchair of natu^Q* 
 wood covered with needlework, and a walnut table, 
 on which figured a water- pitcher of the wide -mouthed 
 kind called gueulard, standing in a basin with a blue 
 border. The old man kept his winter store of apples 
 and pears, medlars and quinces on heaps of straw 
 in these rooms, where the rats and mice ran riot, so 
 that they exhaled a mingled odor of fruit and vermin. 
 Madame Hochon now directed that everything should 
 be cleaned: the wall-paper, which had peeled off in 
 places, was fastened up again with wafers ; and she 
 decorated the windows with little curtains which she 
 pieced together from old hoards of her own. Her hus- 
 band having refused to let her buy a strip of drugget, 
 she laid down her own bedside carpet for her little Aga- 
 the, — "Poor little thing!" as she called the mother, 
 who was now over forty-seven years old. Madame 
 Hochon borrowed two night-tables from a neighbor, and 
 boldlv hired two chests of drawers with brass handles 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 213 
 
 from a dealer in second-hand furniture who lived next 
 to Mere Cognette. She herself had preserved two pairs 
 of candlesticks, carved in choice woods b}' her own 
 father, who had the turning mania. From 1770 to 1780 
 it was the fashion among rich people to learn a trade, 
 and Monsieur Lousteau, the father, was a turner, just as 
 Louis XVI. was a locksmith. These candlesticks were 
 ornamented with circlets made of the roots of rose, 
 peach, and apricot trees. Madame Hochon actually 
 risked the use of her precious relics ! These prepara- 
 tions and this sacrifice increased old Hoehon's anxiety ; 
 up to this time he had not believed in the arrival of the 
 Bridaus. 
 
 The morning of the day that was celebrated b}- the 
 trick on Fario, Madame Hochon said to her husband 
 after breakfast : — 
 
 "I hope, Hochon, that you will receive my god- 
 daughter, Madame Bridau, properly." Then, after 
 making sure that her grandchildren were out of hear- 
 ing, she added : "lam mistress of my own property ; 
 don't oblige me to make up to Agathe in my will for 
 any incivility on } T our part." 
 
 " Do you think, madame," answered Hochon, in a 
 mild voice, M that, at my age, I don't know the forms 
 of decent civility?" 
 
 " You know very well what I mean, you crafty old 
 thing ! Be friendly to our guests, and remember that 
 I love Agathe." 
 
 14 And } 7 ou love Maxence Gilet also, who is getting 
 the property away from your dear Agathe ! Ah ! you 've 
 warmed a viper in your bosom there ; but after all, the 
 Rouget money is bound to go to a Lousteau." 
 
 After making this allusion to the supposed parentage 
 
214 The Two Brothers. 
 
 of both Max and Agathe, Hochon turned to leave the 
 room ; but old Madame Hochon, a woman still erect 
 and spare, wearing a round cap with ribbon knots and 
 her hair powdered, a taffeta petticoat of changeable 
 colors like a pigeon's breast, tight sleeves, and her feet 
 in high-heeled slippers, deposited her snuff-box on a 
 little table, and said : — 
 
 " Really, Monsieur Hochon, how can a man of your 
 sense repeat absurdities which, unhappily, cost my poor 
 friend her peace of mind, and Agathe the property which 
 she ought to have had from her father. Max Gilet is 
 not the son of my brother, whom I often advised to 
 save the money he paid for him. You know as well as 
 I do that Madame Rouget was virtue itself — " 
 
 44 And the daughter takes after her; for she strikes 
 me as uncommonly stupid. After losing all her for- 
 tune, she brings up her sons so well that here is one in 
 prison and likely to be brought up on a criminal indict- 
 ment before the Court of Peers for a conspiracy worthy 
 of Berton. As for the other, he is worse off; he's a 
 painter. If your proteges are to sta}' here till they 
 have extricated that fool of a Rouget from the claws of 
 Gilet and the Rabouilleuse, we shall eat a good deal 
 more than half a measure of salt with them." 
 
 " That's enough, Monsieur Hochon ; you had better 
 wish they may not have two strings to their bow." 
 
 Monsieur Hochon took his hat, and his cane with an 
 ivory knob, and went away petrified by that terrible 
 speech ; for he had no idea his wife could show such 
 resolution. Madame Hochon took her prayer-book to 
 read the service, for her advanced age prevented 
 her from going daily to church ; it was only with 
 difficulty that she got there on Sundays and holiday 
 
 ' 
 
The Two Brothers. 215 
 
 Since receiving her goddaughter's letter she had added 
 a petition to her usual prayers, supplicating God to 
 open the e}~es of Jean-Jacques Rouget, and to bless 
 Agathe and prosper the expedition into which she her- 
 self had drawn her. Concealing the fact from her 
 grandchildren, whom she accused of being "parpail- 
 lots" she had asked the curate to say a mass for 
 Agathe's success during a neuvaine which was being 
 held by her granddaughter, Adolphine Borniche, who 
 thus made her prayers in church by prox}\ 
 
 Adolphine, then eighteen, — who for the last seven 
 years had sewed at the side of her grandmother in that 
 cold household of monotonous and methodical customs, 
 — had undertaken her neuvaine all the more willingly 
 because she hoped to inspire some feeling in Joseph 
 Bridau, in whom she took the deepest interest because 
 of the monstrosities which her grandfather attributed 
 in her hearing to the young Parisian. 
 
 All the old people and sensible people of the town, 
 and the fathers of families approved of Madame 
 Hochon's conduct in receiving her goddaughter ; and 
 their good wishes for the latter's success were in pro- 
 portion to the secret contempt with which the conduct 
 of Maxence Gilet had long inspired them. Thus the 
 news of the arrival of Rouget's sister and nephew 
 raised two parties in Issoudun, — that of the higher and 
 older bourgeoisie, who contented themselves with offer- 
 ing good wishes and in watching events without as- 
 sisting them, and that of the Knights of Idleness and 
 the partisans of Max, who, unfortunately, were capable 
 of committing many high-handed outrages against the 
 Parisians. 
 
216 The Two Brothers. 
 
 XL 
 
 Agathe and Joseph arrived at the coach-office of the 
 Messageries-Royales in the place Misere at three 
 o'clock. Though tired with the journey, Madame 
 Bridau felt her youth revive at sight of her native land, 
 where at eveiy step she came upon memories and im- 
 pressions of her girlish days. In the then condition of 
 public opinion in Issoudun, the arrival of the Parisians 
 was known all over the town in ten minutes. Madame 
 Hochon came out upon her doorstep to welcome her god- 
 child, and kissed her as though she were really a daugh- 
 ter. After seventy-two years of a barren and monotonous 
 existence, exhibiting in their r trospect the graves of her 
 three children, all unhappy in their lives, and all dead, 
 she had come to feel a sort of factitious motherhood 
 for the young girl whom she had, as she expressed it, 
 carried in her pouch for sixteen years. Through the 
 gloom of provincial life the old woman had cherished 
 this early friendship, this girlish memory, as closely as 
 if Agathe had remained near her, and she had also 
 taken the deepest interest in Bridau. Agathe was led 
 in triumph to the salon where Monsieur Hochon was 
 stationed, chilling as a tepid oven. 
 
 " Here is Monsieur Hochon ; how does he seem to 
 3 r ou?" asked his wife. 
 
 44 Precisely the same as when I last saw him/' said 
 the Parisian woman. 
 
The Two Brothers. 217 
 
 " Ah! it is easy to see you come from Paris; you 
 are so complimentary," remarked the old man. 
 
 The presentations took place : first, young Baruch 
 Borniche, a tall youth of twenty-two ; then Francois 
 Hochon, twenty-four ; and lastlj- little Adolphine, who 
 blushed and did not know what to do with her arms ; she 
 was anxious not to seem to be looking at Joseph Bridau, 
 who in his turn was narrowly observed, though from dif- 
 ferent points of view, by the two young men and by old 
 Hochon. The miser was saying to himself, " He is 
 just out of the hospital ; he will be as hungry as a con- 
 valescent." The young men were saying, " What a 
 head ! what a brigand ! we shall have our hands full ! " 
 
 "This is my son, the painter; my good Joseph," 
 said Agathe at last, presenting the artist. 
 
 There was an effort in the accent that she put 
 upon the word " good," which revealed the mother's 
 heart, whose thoughts were really in the prison of the 
 Luxembourg. "^ 
 
 14 He looks ill," said Madame Hochon; "he is not 
 at all like you." 
 
 " No, madame," said Joseph, with the brusque can- 
 dor of an artist ; "lam like my father, and very ugly 
 at that." 
 
 Madame Hochon pressed Agathe's hand which she was 
 holding, and glanced at her as much as to say, Ah ! my 
 child ; I understand now why you prefer your good-for- 
 nothing Philippe. 
 
 " I never saw your father, my dear boy," she said 
 aloud ; " it is enough to make me love you that you are 
 your mother's son. Besides, }ou have talent, so the late 
 Madame Descoings used to write to me ; she was the 
 only one of late years who told me much about you." 
 
218 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "Talent!" exclaimed the artist, "not as yet; but 
 with time and patience I may win fame and fortune." 
 
 " By painting? " said Monsieur Hochon ironically. 
 
 "Come, Adolphine," said Madame Hochon, "go 
 and see about dinner." 
 
 "Mother," said Joseph, " I will attend to the trunks 
 which they are bringing in." 
 
 " Hochon," said the grandmother to Francois, " show 
 the rooms to Monsieur Bridau." 
 
 As the dinner was to be served at four o'clock and it 
 was now only half past three, Baruch rushed into the 
 town to tell the news of the Bridau arrival, describe 
 Agathe's dress, and more particularlj- to picture Joseph, 
 whose haggard, unhealthy, and determined face was not 
 unlike the ideal of a brigand. That evening Joseph 
 was the topic of conversation in all the households of 
 Issoudun. 
 
 " That sister of Rouget must have seen a monkey 
 before her son was born," said one ; " he is the image 
 of a baboon." 
 
 " He has the face of a brigand and the eyes of a 
 basilisk." 
 
 " All artists are like that." 
 
 " They are as wicked as a red ass, and as spiteful as 
 monkeys." 
 
 " It is part of their business." 
 
 " I have just seen Monsieur Beaussier, and he says 
 he would not like to meet him in a dark wood ; he saw 
 him in the diligence." 
 
 " He has got hollows over the eyes like a horse, and 
 he laughs like a maniac." 
 
 " The fellow looks as though he were capable of 
 anything ; perhaps it 's his fault that his brother, a fine 
 
The Two Brothers. 219 
 
 handsome man they tell me, has gone to the bad. Poor 
 Madame Bridau. does n't seem as if she were very happy 
 with him." 
 
 " Suppose we take advantage of his being here, and 
 have our portraits painted ? " 
 
 The result of all these observations, scattered through 
 the town was, naturally, to excite curiosity. All those 
 who had the right to visit the Hochons resolved to call 
 that very night and examine the Parisians. The arrival 
 of these two persons in the stagnant town was like the 
 falling of a beam into a communit}' of frogs. 
 
 After stowing his mother's things and his own into 
 the two attic chambers, which he examined as he did so, 
 Joseph took note of the silent house, where the walls, 
 the stair-case, the wood-work, were devoid of decoration 
 and humid with frost, and where there was literally 
 nothing beyond the merest necessaries. He felt the 
 brusque transition from his poetic Paris to the dumb 
 and arid province ; and when, coming downstairs, he 
 chanced to see Monsieur Hochon cutting slices of bread 
 for each person, he understood, for the first time in his 
 life, Moliere's Harpagon. 
 
 k ' We should have done better to go to an inn," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 The aspect of the dinner confirmed his apprehensions. 
 After a soup whose watery clearness showed that 
 quantity was more considered than quality, the bouilli 
 was served, ceremoniously garnished with parsley ; the 
 vegetables, in a dish by themselves, being counted into 
 the items of the repast. The bouilli held the place of 
 honor in the middle of the table, accompanied with 
 three other dishes : hard-boiled eggs on sorrel opposite 
 to the vegetables ; then a salad dressed with nut-oil to 
 
220 The Two Brothers. 
 
 face little cups of custard, whose flavoring of burnt 
 oats did service as vanilla, which it resembles much as 
 coffee made of chiccory resembles mocha. Butter and 
 radishes, in* two plates, were at each end of the table ; 
 pickled gherkins and horse-radish completed the spread, 
 which won Madame Hochon's approbation. The good 
 old woman gave a contented little nod when she saw 
 that her husband had done things properly, for the first 
 day at least. The old man answered with a glance and 
 a shrug of his shoulders, which it was easy to translate 
 into — 
 
 " See the extravagances you force me to commit ! " 
 As soon as Monsieur Hochon had, as it were, slivered 
 the bouilli into slices, about as thick as the sole of a 
 dancing-shoe, that dish was replaced by another, con- 
 taining three pigeons. The wine was of the country, 
 vintage 1811. On a hint from her grandmother, 
 Adolphine had decorated each end of the table with a 
 bunch of flowers. 
 
 "At Rome as the Romans do," thought the artist, 
 looking at the table, and beginning to eat, — like a man 
 who had breakfasted at Vierzon, at six o'clock in the 
 morning, on an execrable cup of coffee. When Joseph 
 had eaten up all his bread and asked for more, Monsieur 
 Hochon rose, slowly searched in the pocket of his surtout 
 for a key, unlocked a cupboard behind him, broke off a 
 section of a twelve-pound loaf, carefully cut a 7'ound of 
 it, then divided the round in two, laid the pieces on a 
 plate, and passed the plate across the table to the young 
 painter, with the silence and coolness of an old soldier 
 who says to himself on the eve of battle, "Well, I 
 can meet death." Joseph took the half-slice, and 
 fully understood that he was not to ask for any more. 
 
The Two Brothers. 221 
 
 No member of the famil}* was the least surprised at this 
 extraordinar}' performance. The conversation went on. 
 Agathe learned that the house in which she was horn, 
 her father's house before he inherited that of the 
 old Descoings, had been bought by the Borniches ; she 
 expressed a wish to see it once more. 
 
 "No doubt," said her godmother, "the Borniches 
 will be here this evening ; we shall have half the town — 
 who want to examine 3*ou," she added, turning to 
 Joseph, " and they will all invite you to their houses." 
 
 Gritte, who, in spite of her sixt} T years, was the only 
 servant of the house, brought in for dessert the famous 
 ripe cheese of Touraine and Berry, made of goat's milk, 
 whose mouldy discolorations so distinctly reproduce the 
 pattern of the vine-leaves on which it is served, that 
 Touraine ought to have invented the art of engraving. 
 On either side of these little cheeses Gritte, with a com- 
 pany air, placed nuts and some time-honored biscuits. 
 
 "Well, Gritte, the fruit?" said Madame Hochon. 
 
 "But, madame, there is none rotten," answered 
 Gritte. 
 
 Joseph went off into roars of laughter, as though he 
 were among his comrades in the atelier ; for he suddens- 
 perceived that the parsimony of eating only the fruits 
 which were beginning to rot had degenerated into a 
 settled habit. 
 
 " Bah ! we can eat them all the same," he exclaimed, 
 with the heedless gayety of a man who will have his say. 
 
 "Monsieur Hochon, pray get some," said the old 
 lady. 
 
 Monsieur Hochon, much incensed at the artist's 
 speech, fetched some peaches, pears, and Saint- 
 Catherine plums. 
 
222 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Adolphine, go and gather some grapes," said Ma- 
 dame Hochon to her granddaughter. 
 
 Joseph looked at the two young men as much as to 
 say: "Is it to such living as this that you owe your 
 healthy faces ? " 
 
 Baruch understood the keen glance and smiled ; for 
 he and his cousin Hochon were behaving with much dis- 
 cretion. The home-life was of less importance to youths 
 who supped three times the week at Mere Cognette's. 
 Moreover, just before dinner, Baruch had received 
 notice that the grand master convoked the whole Order 
 at midnight for a magnificent supper, in the course of 
 which a great enterprise would be arranged. The feast 
 of welcome given by old Hochon to his guests explains 
 how necessary were the nocturnal repasts at the Cog- 
 nette's to two young fellows blessed with good appetites, 
 who, we ma}' add, never missed any of them. 
 
 " We will take the liqueur in the salon," said Madame 
 Hochon, rising and motioning to Joseph to give her his 
 arm. As they went out before the others, she whispered 
 to the painter : — 
 
 "Eh! my poor boy; this dinner won't give you 
 an indigestion ; but I had hard work to get it for you. 
 It is always Lent here ; }*ou will get enough just to 
 keep life in 30U, and no more. So you must bear it 
 patiently." 
 
 The kind-heartedness of the old woman, who thus 
 drew her own indictment, pleased the artist. 
 
 " I have lived fifty 1 - years with that man, without ever 
 hearing half-a-dozen gold pieces chink in my purse," 
 she went on. " Oh ! if I did not hope that you might 
 save your property, I would never have brought you and 
 your mother into my prison." 
 
 
The Two Brother*. 223 
 
 " But how can yon survive it? " cried Joseph naively, 
 with the gayety which a French artist never loses. 
 
 M Ah, 3011 may well ask ! " she said. " I pray. " 
 
 Joseph quivered as he heard the words, which raised 
 the old woman so much in his estimation that he stepped 
 back a little wa} T to look into her face ; it was radiant 
 with so tender a serenit} T that he said to her, — 
 
 " Let me paint 3*011 r portrait." 
 
 M No, no, " she answered, "lam too weaiy of life to 
 wish to remain here on canvas." 
 
 Gayty uttering the sad words, she opened a closet, 
 and brought out a flask containing ratafia, a domestic 
 manufacture of her own, the receipt for which she ob- 
 tained from the far-famed nuns to whom is also due 
 the celebrated cake of Issoudun, — one of the great 
 creations of French confectioneiy ; which no chef, cook, 
 pastiy-cook, or confectioner has ever been able to re- 
 produce. Monsieur de Riviere, ambassador at Con- 
 stantinople, ordered enormous quantities ever3 T 3*ear for 
 the Seraglio. 
 
 Adolphine held a lacquer tra3* on which were a 
 number of little old glasses with engraved sides and 
 gilt edges ; and as her grandmother filled each of them, 
 she carried it to the Compaq*. 
 
 " It seems as though my father's turn were coming 
 round ! " exclaimed Agathe, to whom this immutable 
 provincial custom recalled the scenes of her 3'outh. 
 
 4 - Hochon will go to his club present^* to read the 
 papers, and we shall have a little time to ourselves, " 
 said the old lad3 T in a low voice. 
 
 In fact, ten minutes later, the three women and 
 Joseph were alone in the salon, where the floor was 
 never waxed, only swept, and the worsted- work designs 
 
224 The Two Brothers. 
 
 in oaken frames with grooved mouldings, and all the 
 other plain and rather dismal furniture seemed to Ma- 
 dame Bridau to be in exactly the same state as when she 
 had left Issoudnn. Monarch}', Revolution, Empire, 
 and Restoration, which respected little, had certainly 
 respected this room where their glories and their dis- 
 asters had left not the slightest trace. 
 
 "Ah! my godmother, in comparison with }'our life, 
 mine has been cruelly tried," exclaimed Madame Bridau, 
 surprised to find even a canary which she had known 
 when alive, stuffed, and standing on the mantleshelf 
 between the old clock, the old brass brackets, and the 
 silver candlesticks. 
 
 "My child," said the old lady, " trials are in the 
 heart. The greater and more necessary the resigna- 
 tion, the harder the struggle with our own selves. But 
 don't speak of me, let us talk of your affairs. You are 
 directly in front of the enemy," she added, pointing to 
 the windows of the Rouget house. 
 
 " They are sitting down to dinner," said Adolphine. 
 
 The young girl, destined for a cloister, was constantly 
 looking out of the window, in hopes of getting some 
 light upon the enormities imputed to Maxence Gilet, the 
 Rabouilleuse, and Jean-Jacques, of which a few words 
 reached her ears whenever she was sent out of the room 
 that others might talk about them. The old lady now 
 told her granddaughter to leave her alone with Ma- 
 dame Bridau and Joseph until the arrival of visitors. 
 
 " For, " she said, turning to the Parisians, " I know 
 my Issoudun by heart ; we shall have ten or twelve 
 batches of inquisitive folk here to-night. " 
 
 In fact Madame Hochon had hardly related the events 
 and the details concerning the astounding: influence 
 
The Two Brothers. 225 
 
 obtained by Maxence Gilet and the Kabouilleuse over 
 Jean-Jacques Rouget (without, of course, following the 
 synthetical method with which they have been pre- 
 sented here) , adding the many comments, descriptions, 
 and hypotheses with which the good and evil tongues 
 of the town embroidered them, before Adolphine an- 
 nounced the approach of the Borniche, Beaussier, Lous- 
 teau-Prangin, Fichet, Goddet-Herau families ; in all, 
 fourteen persons looming in the distance. 
 
 u You now see, my dear child, " said the old lady, 
 concluding her tale, ' ' that it will not be an easy matter 
 to get this property out of the jaws of the wolf — " 
 
 " It seems to me so difficult — with a scoundrel such 
 as 3 r ou represent him, and a daring woman like that 
 crab-girl — as to be actually impossible," remarked 
 Joseph. " We should have to sta}' a year in Issoudun 
 to counteract their influence and overthrow their domin- 
 ion over m}- uncle. Money is n't worth such a struggle, 
 — not to speak of the meannesses to which we should 
 have to condescend. My mother has only two weeks' 
 leave of absence ; her place is a permanent one, and 
 she must not risk it. As for me, in the month of Octo- 
 ber I have an important work, which Schinner has just 
 obtained for me from a peer of France ; so }'ou see, 
 madame, my future fortune is in my brushes.'' 
 
 This speech was received b}' Madame Hochon with 
 mute amazement. Though relatively superior to the 
 town she lived in, the old lady did not believe in 
 painting. She glanced at her goddaughter, and again 
 pressed her hand. 
 
 "This Maxence is the second volume of Philippe," 
 whispered Joseph in his mother's ear, — '* only cleverer 
 and better behaved. Well, madame," he said, aloud, 
 
 15 
 
220 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "we won't trouble Monsieur Hochon by staying very 
 long." 
 
 "Ah! you are young; you know nothing of the 
 world," said the old lady. " A couple of weeks, if you 
 are judicious, may produce great results ; listen to my 
 advice, and act accordingly." 
 
 "Oh! willingly;" replied Joseph, "I know I have 
 a perfectly amazing incapacit} T for domestic statesman- 
 ship : for example, I am sure I don't know wiiat Des- 
 roches himself would tell us to do if my uncle declines 
 to see us." 
 
 Mesdames Borniche, Goddet-Herau, Beaussier, Lons- 
 teau-Prangin and Fichet, decorated with their husbands, 
 here entered the room. 
 
 When the fourteen persons were seated, and tin 1 
 usual compliments were over, Madame Hochon pre- 
 sented her goddaughter Agathe and Joseph. Joseph 
 sat in his armchair all the evening, engaged in slyly 
 stud3'ing the sixt}' faces which, from five o'clock until 
 half past nine, posed for him gratis, as he afterwards 
 told his mother. Such behavior before the aristocracy 
 of Issoudun did not tend to change the opinion of the 
 little town concerning him : even' one went home ruffled 
 by his sarcastic glances, uneasy under his smiles, and 
 even frightened at his face, which seemed sinister to a 
 class of people unable to recognize the singularities of 
 genius. 
 
 After ten o'clock, when the household was in bed, 
 Madame Hochon kept her goddaughter in her chamber 
 until midnight. Secure from interruption, the two 
 women told each other the sorrows of their lives, and 
 exchanged their sufferings. As Agathe listened to the 
 last echoes of a soul that had missed its destiny, and 
 
TJie Two Brothers. 227 
 
 felt the sufferings of a heart, essentially generous and 
 charitable, whose charity and generosity could never be 
 exercised, she realized the immensity of the desert in 
 which the powers of this noble, unrecognized soul had 
 been wasted, and knew that she herself, with the little 
 J03-S and interests of her city life relieving the bitter trials 
 sent from God, was not the most unhappy of the two. 
 
 "You who are so pious," she said, " explain to me 
 my shortcomings ; tell me what it is that God is pun- 
 ishing in me." 
 
 44 He is preparing us, my child," answered the old 
 woman, " for the striking of the last hour." 
 
 At midnight the Knights of Idleness were collecting, 
 one by one like shadows, under the trees of the boule- 
 vard Baron, and speaking together in whispers. 
 
 "What are we going to do? " was the first question 
 of each as he arrived. 
 
 " I think," said Francois, " that Max means merely 
 to give us a supper." 
 
 "No; matters are very serious for him, and for the 
 Rabouilleuse : no doubt, he has concocted some scheme 
 against the Parisians." 
 
 " It would be a good joke to drive them away." 
 
 " My grandfather," said Baruch, " is terribly alarmed 
 at having, two extra mouths to feed, and he VI seize on 
 any pretext — " 
 
 "Well, comrades!" cried Max softly, now appear- 
 ing on the scene, "why are you star-gazing? the 
 planets don't distil kirschwasser. Come, let us go to 
 Mere Cognette's ! " 
 
 " To Mere Cognette's ! To Mere Cognette's ! " they 
 all cried. 
 
228 The Two Brothers. 
 
 The cry, uttered as with one voice, produced a clamor 
 which rang through the town like the hurrah of troops 
 rushing to an assault ; total silence followed. The 
 next da} T , more than one inhabitant must have said to 
 his neighbor: "Did you hear those frightful cries last 
 night, about one o'clock? I thought there was surely a 
 fire somewhere." 
 
 A supper worthy of La Cognette brightened the faces 
 of the twent}'-two guests ; for the whole Order was 
 present. At two in the morning, as they were be- 
 ginning to siroter (a word in the vocabulary of the 
 Knights which admirably expresses the act of sipping 
 and tasting the wine in small quantities), Max rose 
 to speak : — 
 
 " My dear fellows ! the honor of your grand master 
 was grossly attacked this morning, after our memorable 
 joke with Fario's cart, — attacked by a vile pedler, and 
 what is more, a Spaniard (oh, Cabrera !) ; and I have 
 resolved to make the scoundrel feel the weight of ni} T 
 vengeance ; always, of course, within the limits we 
 have laid down for our fun. After reflecting about it all 
 day, I have found a trick which is worth putting into 
 execution, — a famous trick, that will drive him crazy. 
 While avenging the insult offered to the Order in my 
 person, we shall be feeding the sacred animals of the 
 Egyptians, — little beasts which are, after all, the creatures 
 of God, and which man unjustly persecutes. Thus we 
 see that good is the child of evil, and evil is the offspring 
 of good ; such is the paramount law of the universe ! 
 I now order you all, on pain of displeasing your very 
 humble grand master, to procure clandestinely, each 
 one of you, twenty rats, male or female as heaven 
 pleases. Collect your contingent within three days. 
 
The Two Brothers. 229 
 
 If you can get more, the surplus will be welcome. 
 Keep the interesting rodents without food ; for it is 
 essential that the delightful little beasts be ravenous 
 with hunger. Please observe that I will accept both 
 house-mice and field-mice as rats. If we multiply 
 twenty-two by twenty, we shall have four hundred ; 
 four hundred accomplices let loose in the old church 
 of the Capuchins, where Fario has stored all his grain, 
 will consume a not insignificant quantity ! But be 
 lively about it ! There 's no time to lose. Fario is to 
 deliver most of the grain to his customers in a week 
 or so ; and I am determined that that Spaniard shall 
 find a terrible deficit. Gentlemen, I have not the 
 merit of this invention," continued Max, observing 
 signs of general admiration. "Render to Caesar that 
 which is Caesar's, and to God that which is God's. 
 My scheme is*Dnly a reproduction of Samson's foxes, 
 as related in the Bible. But Samson was an incendi- 
 ary, and therefore no philanthropist ; while we, like the 
 Brahmins, are the protectors of a persecuted race. 
 Mademoiselle Flore Brazier has already set all her 
 mouse- traps, and Kouski, my right-arm, is hunting 
 field-mice. I have spoken." 
 
 4k I know," said Goddet, "where to find an animal 
 that 's worth fort}' rats, himself alone." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 44 A squirrel." 
 
 44 1 offer a little monke}," said one of the younger 
 members, 44 he'll make himself drunk on wheat." 
 
 44 Bad, very bad ! " exclaimed Max, 44 it would show 
 who put the beasts there." 
 
 44 But we might each catch a pigeon some night," 
 said young Beaussier, " taking them from different 
 
230 The Two Brothers. 
 
 farms ; if we put them through a hole in tae roof, 
 they'll attract thousands of others." 
 
 '" So, then, for the next week, Fario's storehouse 
 is the order of the night," cried Max, smiling at 
 Beaussier. "Recollect; people get up early in Saint- 
 Paterne. Mind, too, that none of you go there without 
 turning the soles of }our list shoes backward. Knight 
 Beaussier, the inventor of pigeons, is made director. 
 As for me, I shall take care to leave nry imprjnt on 
 the sacks of wheat. Gentlemen, }'ou are, all of you, 
 appointed to the commissariat of the Arm}' of Rats. 
 If you find a watchman sleeping in the church, you 
 must manage to make him drunk, — and do it cleverl}', 
 — so as to get him far away from the scene of the 
 Rodents' Orgy." 
 
 "You don't say an}'thing about the Parisians?" 
 questioned Goddet. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Max, "I want time to stud}' 
 them. Meantime, I offer m}' best shotgun — the one 
 the Emperor gave me, a treasure from the manufactor}^ 
 at Versailles — to whoever finds a way to pla}' the Bri- 
 daus a trick which shall get them into difficulties with 
 Monsieur and Madame Hochon, so that those worthy 
 old people shall send them off, or they shall be forced 
 to go of their own accord, — without, understand me, 
 injuring the venerable ancestors of my two friends here 
 present, Baruch and Francois." 
 
 "All right! I'll think of it," said Goddet, who 
 coveted the gun. 
 
 "If the inventor of the trick doesn't care for the 
 gun, he shall have my horse," added Max. 
 
 After this night twent}' brains were tortured to la} r a 
 plot against Agathe and her son, on the basis of Max's 
 
The Two Brothers. 231 
 
 programme. But the devil alone, or chance, could 
 really help them to success ; for the conditions given 
 made the thing wellnigh impossible. 
 
 The next morning Agathe and Joseph came down- 
 stairs just before the second breakfast, which took 
 place at ten o'clock. In Monsieur Hochon's household 
 the name of first breakfast was given to a cup of milk 
 and slice of bread and butter which was taken in bed, 
 or when rising. While waiting for Madame Hochon, 
 who notwithstanding her age went minutely through 
 the ceremonies with which the duchesses of Louis XV.'s 
 time performed their toilette, Joseph noticed Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget planted squarely on his feet at the 
 door of his house across the street. He naturally 
 pointed him out to his mother, who was unable to 
 recognize her brother, so little did he look like what he 
 was when she left him. 
 
 ** That is your brother," said Adolphine, who en- 
 tered, giving an arm to her grandmother. 
 
 tfc What an idiot he looks like ! " exclaimed Joseph. 
 
 Agathe clasped her hands, and raised her eyes to 
 heaven. 
 
 "What a state they have driven him to! Good 
 God ! can that be a man only fifty-seven 3 T ears old? " 
 
 She looked attentively at her brother, and saw Flore 
 Brazier standing directly behind him, with her hair 
 dressed, a pair of snowy shoulders and a dazzling 
 bosom showing through a gauze neckerchief, which was 
 trimmed with lace ; she was wearing a dress with a 
 tight-fitting waist, made of grenadine (a silk material 
 then much the fashion) , with leg-of-mutton sleeves so- 
 called, fastened at the wrists by handsome bracelets. 
 
232 The Two Brothers. 
 
 A gold chain rippled over the crab-girl's bosom as 
 she leaned forward to give Jean-Jacques his black silk 
 cap lest he should take cold. The scene was evidently 
 studied. 
 
 44 He}* ! " cried Joseph, " there 's a ,fine woman, and 
 a rare one ! She is made, as they say, to paint. 
 What flesh-tints ! Oh, the lovety tones ! what surface ! 
 what curves ! Ah, those shoulders ! She 's a magnifi- 
 cent caryatide. What a model she would have been 
 for one of Titian's Venuses ! " 
 
 Adolphine and Madame Hochon thought he was talk- 
 ing Greek ; but Agathe signed to them behind his back, 
 as if to say that she was accustomed to such jargon. 
 
 44 So 3'ou think a creature who is depriving you of 
 \ T our property handsome?" said Madame Hochon. 
 
 44 That doesn't prevent her from being a splendid 
 model! — just plump enough not to spoil the hips and 
 the general contour — n 
 
 44 My son, you are not in your studio," said Agathe. 
 44 Adolphine is here." 
 
 44 Ah, true! I did wrong. But }*ou must remember 
 that ever since leaving Paris I have seen nothing but 
 uglj' women — " 
 
 44 My dear godmother," said Agathe hastily, 44 how 
 shall I be able to meet my brother, if that creature is 
 alwa} T s with him ? " 
 
 44 Bah!" said Joseph. "I '11 go and see him my- 
 self. I don't think him such an idiot, now I find he has 
 the sense to rejoice his eyes with a Titian's Venus." 
 
 44 If he were not an idiot," said Monsieur Hochon, 
 who had come in, 44 he would have married long ago and 
 had children ; and then you would have no chance at 
 the properly. It is an ill wind that blows no good." 
 
The Two Brothers. 233 
 
 i< 
 
 Your son's idea is very good," said Madame 
 Hochon ; " lie ought to pay the first visit. He can make 
 his uncle understand that if you call there he must be 
 alone." 
 
 " That will affront Mademoiselle Brazier," said old 
 Hochon. k ' No, no, madame ; swallow the pill. If you 
 can't get the whole propert}-, secure a small legacy." 
 
 The Hochons were not clever enough to match Max. 
 In the middle of breakfast Kouski brought over a' 
 letter from Monsieur Rouget, addressed to his sister, 
 Madame Bridau. Madame Hochon made her husband 
 read it aloud, as follows : — 
 
 My dear Sister, — I learn from strangers of your ar- 
 rival in Issoudun. I can guess the reason which made you 
 prefer the house of Monsieur and Madame Hochon to mine; 
 but if you will come to see me you shall be received as you 
 ought to be. I should certainly pay you the first visit if my 
 health did not compel me just now to keep the house; 
 for which 1 offer my affectionate regrets. I shall be de- 
 lighted to see my nephew, whom I invite to dine with me 
 to-morrow, — young men are less sensitive than women 
 about the company. It will give me pleasure if Messrs. 
 Baruch Borniche and Francois Hochon will accompany him. 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 J.-J. Rouget. 
 
 " Say that we are at breakfast, but that Madame 
 Bridau will send an answer present^, and the invita- 
 tions are all accepted," said Monsieur Hochon to the 
 servant. 
 
 The old man laid his finger on his lips, to require 
 silence from everybodj\ When the street-door was 
 shut, Monsieur Hochon, little suspecting the intimacy 
 between his grandsons and Max, threw one of his 
 slyest looks at his wife and Agathe, remarking, — 
 
234 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " He is just as capable of writing that note as I am 
 of giving away twenty-five louis ; it is the soldier who is 
 corresponding with us ! " 
 
 " What does that portend?" asked Madame Hochon. 
 " Well, never mind ; we will answer him. As for you, 
 monsieur," she added, turning to Joseph, " you must 
 dine there; but if — " 
 
 The old lad}* was stopped short b}- a look from her 
 husband. Knowing how warm a friendship she felt for 
 Agathe, old Hochon was in dread lest she should leave 
 some legacy to her goddaughter in case the latter lost 
 the Rouget property. Though fifteen years older than 
 his wife, the miser hoped to inherit her fortune, and to 
 become eventually the absolute master of their whole 
 property. That hope was a fixed idea with him. 
 Madame Hochon knew that the best means of ob- 
 taining a few concessions from her husband was to 
 threaten him with her will. Monsieur Hochon now 
 took sides with his guests. An enormous fortune was 
 at stake ; with a sense of social justice, he wished 
 to see it go to the natural heirs, instead of being 
 pillaged by unworthy outsiders. Moreover, the sooner 
 the matter was decided, the sooner he should get rid of 
 his guests. Now that the struggle between the inter- 
 lopers and the heirs, hitherto existing only in his wife's 
 mind, had become an actual fact, Monsieur Hochon's 
 keen intelligence, lulled to sleep by the monotony of 
 provincial life, was fully roused. Madame Hochon had 
 been agreeably surprised that morning to perceive, from 
 a few affectionate words which the old man had said 
 to her about Agathe, that so able and subtle an aux- 
 iliary was on the Bridau side. 
 
 Towards midday the brains of Monsieur and Madame 
 
 me 
 
The Two Brothers. 235 
 
 Hochon, of Agathe, and Joseph (the latter much amazed 
 at the scrupulous care of the old people in the choice of 
 words), were delivered of the following answer, con- 
 cocted solely for the benefit of Max and Flore : — 
 
 My dear Brother, — If I have stayed away from Issou- 
 dun, and kept up no intercourse with any one, not even with 
 you, the fault lies not merely with the strange and false 
 ideas my father conceived against me, but with the joys and 
 sorrows of my life in Paris ; for if God made me a happy 
 wife, he has also deeply afflicted me as a mother. You are 
 aware that my son, your nephew Philippe, lies under accu- 
 sation of a capital offence in consequence of his devotion to 
 the Emperor. Therefore you can hardly be surprised if a 
 widow, compelled to take a humble situation in a lottery-office 
 for a living, should come to seek consolation from those 
 among whom she w r as born. 
 
 The profession adopted by the son who accompanies me is 
 one that requires great talent, many sacrifices, and prolonged 
 studies before any results can be obtained. Glory for an 
 artist precedes fortune ; is not that to say that Joseph, though 
 he may bring honor to the family, will still be poor? Your 
 sister, my dear Jean- Jacques, would have borne in silence the 
 penalties of paternal injustice, but you will pardon a mother 
 for reminding you that you have two nephews ; one of whom 
 carried the Emperor's orders at the battle of Montereau and 
 served in the Guard at Waterloo, and is now in prison for 
 his devotion to Napoleon; the other, from his thirteenth 
 year, has been impelled by natural gifts to enter a difficult 
 though glorious career. 
 
 I thank you for your letter, my dear brother, with heart- 
 felt warmth, for my own sake, and also for Joseph's, who will 
 certainly accept your invitation. Illness excuses everything, 
 my dear Jean-Jacques, and I shall therefore go to see you in 
 your own house. A sister is always at home with a brother, 
 no matter what may be the life he has adopted. 
 
 I embrace you tenderly. Agathe Rouget. 
 
236 The Two Brothers. 
 
 4 4 There's the matter started. Now, when you see 
 him," said Monsieur Hochon to Agathe, " 3*011 must 
 speak plainly to him about his nephews." 
 
 The letter was carried over by Gritte, who returned 
 ten minutes later to render an account to her masters 
 of all that she had seen and heard, according to a set- 
 tled provincial custom. 
 
 44 Since yesterday Madame has had the whole house 
 cleaned up, which she left — " 
 
 44 Whom do 3-0U mean by Madame?" asked old 
 Hochon. 
 
 44 That 's what they call the Rabouilleuse over there," 
 answered Gritte. 44 She left the salon and all Monsieur 
 Rouget's part of the house in a pitiable state ; but since 
 yesterda3' the rooms have been made to look like what 
 the3 T were before Monsieur Maxence went to live there. 
 You can see 3-our face on the floors. La Vedie told me 
 that Kouski went off on horseback at five o'clock this 
 morning, and came back at nine, bringing provisions. It 
 is going to be a grand dinner ! — a dinner fit for the arch- 
 bishop of Bourges ! There 's a fine bustle in the kitchen, 
 and the3 T are as bus3 T as bees. The old man sa3 r s, 4 1 
 want to do honor to m3 T nephew,' and he pokes his nose 
 into everything. It appears the Rougets are highly 
 flattered 03- the letter. Madame came and told me so. 
 Oh ! she had on such a dress ! I never saw anything 
 so handsome in my life. Two diamonds in her ears ! — 
 two diamonds that cost, Vedie told me, three thousand 
 francs apiece ; and such lace ! rings on her fingers, 
 and bracelets ! you 'd think she was a shrine ; and a 
 silk dress as fine as an altar-cloth. So then she said to 
 me, 4 Monsieur is delighted to find his sister so amiable, 
 and I hope she will permit us to pay her all the atten- 
 
The Two Brothers. ^237 
 
 tion she deserves. We shall count upon her good 
 opinion after the welcome we mean to give her son. 
 Monsieur is very impatient to see his nephew.' Ma- 
 dame had little black satin slippers ; and her stockings ! 
 my ! they were marvels, — flowers in silk and openwork, 
 just like lace, and you could see her rosy little feet 
 through them. Oh ! she 's in high feather, and she had 
 a lovely little apron in front of her which, Vedie says, 
 cost more than two years of our wages put together." 
 
 M Well done ! We shall have to dress up," said the 
 artist laughing. 
 
 " What do you think of all this, Monsieur Ilochon? " 
 said the old lady when Gritte had departed. 
 
 Madame Hochon made Agathe observe her husband, 
 who was sitting with his head in his hands, his elbows 
 on the arms of his chair, plunged in thought. 
 
 ' ' You have to do with a Maitre Bonin ! " said the 
 old man at last. " With your ideas, 3'oung man," he 
 added, looking at Joseph, " 3-ou have n't force enough 
 to struggle with a practised scoundrel like Maxence 
 Gilet. No matter what I say to you, you will commit 
 some folly. But, at any rate, tell me everything you 
 see, and hear, and do to-night. Go, and God be with 
 you ! Try to get alone with jour uncle. If, in spite 
 of all 3'our genius, you can't manage it, that in itself 
 will throw some light upon their scheme. But if you do 
 get a moment alone with him, out of ear-shot, damn it, 
 you must pull the wool from his eyes as to the situation 
 those two have put him in, and plead your mother's 
 cause." 
 
 i 
 
238 The Two Brothers. 
 
 XII. 
 
 At four o'clock, Joseph crossed the open space which 
 separated the Rouget house from the Hochon house, — 
 a sort of avenue of weakly lindens, two hundred feet 
 long and of the same width as the rue Grande Narette. 
 When the nephew arrived, Kouski, in polished boots, 
 black cloth trousers, white waistcoat, and black coat, 
 announced him. The table was set in the large hall, 
 and Joseph, who easily distinguished his uncle, went up 
 to him, kissed him, and bowed to Flore and Max. 
 
 "We have not seen each other since I came into the 
 world, my dear uncle," said the painter gayly ; M but 
 better late than never." 
 
 " You are very welcome, m} r friend," said the old 
 man, looking at his nephew in a dull way. 
 
 "Madame," Joseph said to Flore with an artist's 
 vivacity, "this morning I was envying my uncle the 
 pleasure he enjoys in being able to admire you every 
 day." 
 
 " Is n't she beautiful? " said the old man, whose dim 
 eyes began to shine. 
 
 "Beautiful enough to be the model of a great 
 painter." 
 
 "Nephew," said Rouget, whose elbow Flore was 
 nudging, " this is Monsieur Maxence Gilet ; a man who 
 served the Emperor, like your brother, in the Imperial 
 Guard." 
 
 Joseph rose, and bowed. 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 239 
 
 " Your brother was in the dragoons, I believe," said 
 Maxence. " I was only a dust- trotter." 
 
 " On foot or on horseback," said Flore, " } r ou both of 
 you risked } T our skins." 
 
 Joseph took note of Max quite as much as Max took 
 note of Joseph. Max, who got his clothes from Paris, 
 was dressed as the 3'oung dandies of that day dressed 
 themselves. A pair of light-blue cloth trousers, made 
 with very full plaits, covered his feet so that only the 
 toes and the spurs of his boots were seen. His waist was 
 pinched in by a white waistcoat with chased gold but- 
 tons, which was laced behind to serve as a belt. The 
 waistcoat, buttoned to the throat, showed off his broad 
 chest, and a black satin stock obliged him to hold his 
 head high, in soldierl\ T fashion. A handsome gold chain 
 hung from a waistcoat pocket, in which the outline of 
 a flat watch was barely seen. He was twisting a watch- 
 key of the kind called a criquet, which Breguet had 
 lately invented. 
 
 "The fellow is fine-looking," thought Joseph, admir- 
 ing with a painter's eye the eager face, the air of 
 strength, and the intellectual gray eyes which Max had 
 inherited from his father, the noble. " My uncle must 
 be a fearful bore, and that handsome girl takes her com- 
 pensations. It is a triangular household ; I see that." 
 
 At this instant, Baruch and Francois entered. 
 
 " Have you been to see the tower of Issoudun?" 
 Flore asked Joseph. " No? then if you would like to 
 take a little walk before dinner, which will not be served 
 for an hour, we will show 3'ou the great curiosity of the 
 town." 
 
 "Gladly," said the artist, quite incapable of seeing 
 the slightest impropriety in so doing. 
 
240 The Two Brothers. 
 
 While Flore went to put on her bonnet, gloves, and 
 cashmere shawl, Joseph suddenly jumped up, as if an 
 enchanter had touched him with his wand, to look at 
 the pictures. 
 
 "Ah! you have pictures, indeed, uncle!" he said, 
 examining the one that had caught his eye. 
 
 " Yes," answered the old man. "They came to us 
 from the Descoings, who bought them during the Revo- 
 lution, when the convents and churches in Berry were 
 dismantled." 
 
 Joseph was not listening ; he was lost in admiration of 
 the pictures. 
 
 " Magnificent ! " he cried. " Oh ! what painting ! that 
 fellow didn't spoil his canvas. Dear, dear ! better and 
 better, as it is at Nicolet's — " 
 
 "There are seven or eight very large ones up in the 
 garret, which were kept on account of the frames," said 
 Gilet. 
 
 ' • Let me see them ! " cried the artist ; and Max took 
 him upstairs. 
 
 Joseph came down wildly enthusiastic. Max whispered 
 a word to the Rabouilleuse, who took the old man into 
 the embrasure of a window, where Joseph heard her 
 say in a low voice, but still so that he could hear the 
 words : — 
 
 "Your nephew is a painter ; you don't care for those 
 pictures ; be kind, and give them to him." 
 
 " It seems," said Jean-Jacques, leaning on Flore's 
 arm to reach the place where Joseph was standing in 
 ecstasy before an Albano, — tt it seems that you are a 
 painter — " 
 
 " Only a raping said Joseph. 
 
 "What may that be?" asked Flore. 
 
The Two Brothers. 241 
 
 44 A beginner," replied Joseph. 
 
 44 Well," continued Jean-Jacques, 4 'if these pictures 
 can be of any use to you in your business, I give them 
 to you, — but without the frames. Oh ! the frames are 
 gilt, and besides, they are very funny ; I will put — " 
 
 44 Well done, uncle ! " cried Joseph, enchanted ; 4 ' I '11 
 make you copies of the same dimensions, which you can 
 put into the frames." 
 
 44 But that will take 3-011 r time, and you will want 
 canvas and colors," said Flore. " You will have to 
 spend mone}'. Come, Pere Rouget, offer your nephew 
 a hundred francs for each copy ; here are twentj'-seven 
 pictures, and I think there are eleven very big ones in 
 the garret which ought to cost double, — call the whole 
 four thousand francs. Oh, yes," she went on, turn- 
 ing to Joseph, 44 your uncle can well afford to pay 3-011 
 four thousand francs for making the copies, since he 
 keeps the frames — but bless me ! you '11 want frames ; 
 and they say frames cost more than pictures ; there 's 
 more gold on them. Answer, monsieur," she continued, 
 shaking the old man's arm. 4t Hein? it is n't dear ; your 
 nephew will take four thousand francs for new pictures 
 in the place of the old ones. It is," she whispered 
 in his ear, 44 a very good way to give him four thousand 
 francs ; he does n't look to me very flush — " 
 
 44 Well, nephew, I will pay you four thousand francs 
 for the copies — " 
 
 44 No, no ! " said the honest Joseph ; 44 four thousand 
 francs and the pictures, that 's too much ; the pictures, 
 don't 3 r ou see, are valuable — " 
 
 44 Accept, simpleton!" seid Flore; 44 he is your 
 uncle, \ t ou know." 
 
 44 Very good, I accept," said Joseph, bewildered by 
 10 
 
242 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the luck that had befallen him ; for he had recognized a 
 Perugino. 
 
 The result was that the artist beamed with satisfac- 
 tion as he went out of the house with the Rabouilleuse on 
 his arm, all of which helped Maxence's plans immensely. 
 Neither Flore, nor Rouget, nor Max, nor indeed any 
 one in Issoudun knew the value of the pictures, and 
 the crafty Max thought he had bought Flore's triumph 
 for a song, as she paraded triumphantly before the eyes 
 of the astonished town, leaning on the arm of her mas- 
 ter's nephew, and evidently on the best of terms with 
 him. People flocked to their doors to see the crab-girl's 
 triumph over the family. This astounding event made 
 the sensation on which Max counted ; so that when 
 they all returned at five o'clock, nothing was talked of 
 in every household but the cordial understanding be- 
 tween Max and Flore and the nephew of old Rouget. 
 The incident of the pictures and the four thousand 
 francs circulated already. The dinner, at which Lous- 
 teau, one of the court judges, and the Mayor of Issou- 
 dun were present, was splendid. It was one of those 
 provincial dinners lasting five hours. The most exqui- 
 site wines enlivened the conversation. B\- nine o'clock, 
 at dessert, the painter, seated opposite to his uncle, and 
 between Flore and Max, had fraternized with the soldier, 
 and thought him the best fellow on earth. Joseph re- 
 turned home at eleven o'clock somewhat tips}'. As to 
 old Rouget, Kouski carried him to his bed dead-drunk ; 
 he had eaten as though he were an actor from foreign 
 parts, and had soaked up the wine like the sands of the 
 desert. 
 
 " Well," said Max when he was alone with Flore, 
 u is n't this better than making faces at them ? The 
 
The Two Brothers. 243 
 
 Bridaus are well received, they get small presents, and 
 are smothered with attentions, and the end of it is they 
 will sing our praises ; they will go away satisfied and 
 leave us in peace. To-morrow morning you and I and 
 Kouski will take down all those pictures and send them 
 over to the painter, so that he shall see them when he 
 wakes up. We will put the frames in the garret, and 
 cover the walls with one of those varnished papers 
 which represent scenes from Telemachus, such as I 
 have seen at Monsieur Mouilleron's." 
 
 " Oh, that will be much prettier ! " said Flore. 
 
 On the morrow, Joseph did not wake up till midday. 
 From his bed he saw the pictures, which had been 
 brought in while he was asleep, leaning one against 
 another on the opposite wall. While he examined 
 them anew, recognizing each masterpiece, studying the 
 manner of each painter, and searching for the signa- 
 tures, his mother had gone to see and thank her 
 brother, urged thereto by old Hochon, who, having 
 heard of the follies the painter had committed the night 
 before, almost despaired of the Bridau cause. 
 
 " Your adversaries have the cunning of foxes," he 
 said to Agathe. M In all my days I never saw a man 
 carry things with such a high hand as that soldier : 
 they saj~ war educates 3 r oung men ! Joseph has let him- 
 self be fooled. The}' have shut his mouth with wine, 
 and those miserable pictures, and four thousand francs ! 
 Your artist has n't cost Maxence much ! " 
 
 The long-headed old man instructed Madame Bridau 
 carefully as to the line of conduct she ought to pursue, 
 — advising her to enter into Maxence's ideas and cajole 
 Flore, so as to set up a sort of intimacy with her, and 
 thus obtain a few moments' interview with Jean-Jacques 
 
244 The Two Brothers. 
 
 alone. Madame Bridau was very warmly received by 
 her brother, to whom Flore had taught his lesson. The 
 old man was in bed, quite ill from the excesses of the 
 night before. As Agathe, under the circumstances, 
 could scarcely begin at once to speak of famih- matters, 
 Max thought it proper and magnanimous to leave the 
 brother and sister alone together. The calculation was 
 a good one. Poor Agathe found her brother so ill that 
 she would not deprive him of Madame Brazier's care. 
 
 " Besides," she said to the old bachelor, " I wish to 
 know a person to whom I am grateful for the happiness 
 of my brother." 
 
 These words gave evident pleasure to the old man, 
 who rang for Madame Flore. Flore, as we may well 
 believe, was not far off. The female antagonists bowed 
 to each other. The Rabouilleuse showed the most ser- 
 vile attentions and the utmost tenderness to her mas- 
 ter ; fancied his head was too low, beat up the pillows, 
 and took care of him like a bride of 3 T esterday. The 
 poor creature received it with a rush of feeling. 
 
 " We owe 3 r ou much gratitude, mademoiselle," said 
 Agathe, "for the proofs of attachment 30U have so 
 long given to my brother, and for the way in which 
 3'ou watch over his happiness." 
 
 M That is true, my dear Agathe," said the old man ; 
 " she has taught me what happiness is ; she is a woman 
 of excellent qualities." 
 
 "And therefore, my dear brother, you ought to 
 have recompensed Mademoiselle 03' making her 3 T our 
 wife. Yes ! I am too sincere in nry religion not to 
 wish to see 3-011 obey the precepts of the church. You 
 would each be more tranquil in mind if yon were not at 
 variance with morality and the laws. I have come 
 
The Two Brothers. 245 
 
 here, my dear brother, to ask for help in my affliction ; 
 but do not suppose that we wish to make any remon- 
 strance as to the manner in which you may dispose of 
 3-our property — " 
 
 " Madame," said Flore, " we know how unjust your 
 father was to you. Monsieur, here, can tell you," she 
 went on, looking fixedly at her victim, "that the only 
 quarrels we have ever had were about you. I have 
 always told him that he owes you part of the fortune 
 he received from his father, and your father, my bene- 
 factor, — for he w r as my benefactor," she added in a 
 tearful voice ; " I shall ever remember him ! But your 
 brother, madame, has listened to reason — " 
 
 "Yes," said the old man, "when I make my will 
 3'ou shall not be forgotten." 
 
 " Don't talk of these things, my dear brother; 3-ou 
 do not yet know m} r nature." 
 
 After such a beginning, it is easj T to imagine how 
 the visit went on. Rouget invited his sister to dinner 
 on the next day but one. 
 
 We ma} r here mention that during these three days 
 the Knights of Idleness captured an immense quantity of 
 rats and mice, which were kept half-famished until the}' 
 were let loose in the grain one fine night, to the number of 
 four hundred and thirty-six, of which some were breed- 
 ing mothers. Not content with providing Fario's store- 
 house with these boarders, the Knights made holes in 
 the roof of the old church and put in a dozen pigeons, 
 taken from as many different farms. These four-footed 
 and feathered creatures held high revels, — all the more 
 securely because the watchman was enticed awa}' b} T a 
 fellow who kept him drunk from morning till night, so 
 that he took no care of his master's property. 
 
246 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Madame Bridau believed, contrary to the opinion of 
 old Hochon, that her brother had as yet made no will ; 
 she intended asking him what were his intentions re- 
 specting Mademoiselle Brazier, as soon as she could 
 take a walk with him alone, — a hope which Flore and 
 Maxence w T ere always holding out to her, and, of course, 
 always disappointing. 
 
 Meantime the Knights were searching for a wa}' to 
 put the Parisians to flight, and finding none that were 
 not impracticable follies. 
 
 At the end of a week — half the time the Parisians 
 were to stay in Issoudun — the Bridaus were no far- 
 ther advanced in their object than when the}* came. 
 
 " Your lawyer does not understand the provinces," 
 said old Hochon to Madame Bridau. " What you have 
 come to do can't be done in two weeks, nor in two 
 years ; you ought never to leave your brother, but live 
 here and try to give him some ideas of religion. You 
 cannot countermine the fortifications of Flore and Max- 
 ence without getting a priest to sap them. That is my 
 advice, and it is high time to set about it." 
 
 " You certainly have very singular ideas about the 
 clergy," said Madame Hochon to her husband. 
 
 " Bah ! " exclaimed the old man, u that 's just like 
 you pious women." 
 
 kt God would never bless an enterprise undertaken in 
 a sacrilegious spirit," said Madame Bridau. " Use re- 
 ligion for such a purpose ! WI13', we should be more 
 criminal than Flore." 
 
 This conversation took place at breakfast, — Francois 
 and Baruch listening with all their ears. 
 
 u Sacrilege ! " exclaimed old Hochon. " If some 
 good abbe, keen as I have known many of them to be, 
 
The Two Brothers. 247 
 
 knew what a dilemma you are in, he would not think it 
 sacrilege to bring your brother's lost soul back to God, 
 and call him to repentance for his sins, b\* forcing him 
 to send away the woman who causes the scandal (with 
 a proper provision, of course), and showing him how to 
 set his conscience at rest by giving a few thousand 
 francs a year to the seminary of the archbishop and 
 leaving his property to the rightful heirs." 
 
 The passive obedience which the old miser had al- 
 ways exacted from his children, and now from his 
 grandchildren (who were under his guardianship and for 
 whom he was amassing a small fortune, doing for them, 
 he said, just as he would for himself), prevented Baruch 
 and Francois from showing signs of surprise or disap- 
 proval ; but they exchanged significant glances express- 
 ing how dangerous and fatal such a scheme would be to 
 Max's interest. 
 
 "The fact is, madame," said Baruch, "that if you 
 want to secure your brother's propert} T , the only sure 
 and true way will be to stay in Issoudun for the neces- 
 sary length of time — " 
 
 "Mother," said Joseph hastily, "you had better 
 write to Desroches about all this. As for me, I ask 
 nothing more than what my uncle has already given 
 me." 
 
 After fully recognizing the great value of his thirty- 
 nine pictures, Joseph had carefully unnailed the can- 
 vases and fastened paper over them, gumming it at the 
 edges with ordinary glue ; he then laid them one above 
 another in an enormous wooden box, which he sent to 
 Desroches by the carrier's waggon, proposing to write 
 him a letter about it by post. This precious freight had 
 been sent off the night before. 
 
248 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " You are satisfied with a pretty poor bargain," said 
 Monsieur Hochon. 
 
 " I can easily get a hundred and fifty thousand francs 
 for those pictures," replied Joseph. 
 
 "Painter's nonsense!" exclaimed old Hochon, giv- 
 ing Joseph a peculiar look. 
 
 ''Mother," said Joseph, "I am going to write to 
 Desroches and explain to him the state of things here. 
 If he advises } t ou to remain, you had better do so. As 
 for your situation, we can alwaj's find you another 
 like it." 
 
 " My dear Joseph," said Madame Hochon, following 
 him as he left the table, " I don't know anything about 
 your uncle's pictures, but they ought to be good, judging 
 by the places from which they came. If they are worth 
 only forty thousand francs, — a thousand francs apiece, 
 — tell no one. Though my grandsons are discreet and 
 well-behaved, they might, without intending harm, 
 speak of this windfall; it would be known all over 
 Issoudun ; and it is veiy important that our adversaries 
 should not suspect it. You behave like a child ! " 
 
 In fact, before evening many persons in Issoudun, 
 including Max, were informed of this estimate, which 
 had the immediate effect of causing a search for all the 
 old paintings which no one had ever cared for, and the 
 appearance of many execrable daubs. Max repented 
 having driven the old man into giving away the pictures, 
 and the rage he felt against the heirs after hearing from 
 Baruch old Hochon's ecclesiastical scheme, was in- 
 creased by what he termed his own stupidity. The 
 influence of religion upon such a feeble creature as 
 Rouget was the one thing to fear. The news brought 
 by his two comrades decided Maxence Gilet to turn all 
 
The Two Brothers. 249 
 
 Rouget's investments into monej', and to borrow upon 
 his landed property, so as to buy into the Funds as soon 
 as possible ; but he considered it even more important 
 to get rid of the Parisians at once. The genius of the 
 Mascarilles and Scapins put together would hardly have 
 solved the latter problem easily. 
 
 Flore, acting by Max's advice, pretended that Mon- 
 sieur was too feeble to take walks, and that he ought, 
 at his age, to have a carriage. This pretext grew out 
 of the necessity of not exciting inquiry when they went 
 to Bourges, Vierzon, Chateauroux, Vatan, and all the 
 other places where the project of withdrawing invest- 
 ments obliged Max and Flore to betake themselves 
 with Rouget. At the close of the week, all Issoudun 
 was amazed to learn that the old man had gone to 
 Bourges to bu} r a carriage, — a step which the Knights 
 of Idleness regarded as favorable to the Rabouilleuse. 
 Flore and Max selected a hideous berlingot, with 
 cracked leather curtains and windows without glass, 
 aged twenty-two years and nine campaigns, sold on the 
 decease of a colonel, the friend of grand-marshal Ber- 
 trand, who, during the absence of that faithful com- 
 panion of the P^mperor, was left in charge of the affairs 
 of Berry. This berlingot, painted bright green, was 
 somewhat like a caleche, though shafts had taken the 
 place of a pole, so that it could be driven with one 
 horse. It belonged to a class of carriages brought 
 into vogue by diminished fortunes, which at that time 
 bore the candid name of demi-fortune ; at its first 
 introduction it was called a seringue. The cloth lining 
 of this demi-fortune, sold under the name of caleche, 
 was moth-eaten ; its gimps looked like the chevrons of 
 an old Invalide ; its rusty joints squeaked, — but it only 
 
250 The Two Brothers. 
 
 cost four hundred and fifty francs ; and Max bought a 
 good stout mare, trained to harness, from an officer of a 
 regiment then stationed at Bourges. He had the car- 
 riage repainted a dark brown, and bought a tolerable 
 harness at a bargain. The whole town of Issoudun was 
 shaken to its centre in expectation of Pere Rouget's 
 equipage ; and on the occasion of its first appearance, 
 every household was on its door-step and curious faces 
 were at all the windows. 
 
 The second time the old bachelor went out he drove 
 to Bourges, where, to escape the trouble of attending 
 personally to the business, or, if you prefer it, being 
 ordered to do so by Flore, he went before a notary and 
 signed a power of attorney in favor of M axe nee Gilet, 
 enabling him to make all the transfers enumerated in 
 the document. Flore reserved to herself the business 
 of making Monsieur sell out the investments in Issou- 
 dun and its immediate neighborhood. The principal 
 notar3 T in Bourges was requested by Rouget to get him 
 a loan of one hundred and fort}' thousand francs on his 
 landed estate. Nothing was known at Issoudun of 
 these proceedings, which were secretly and cleverly car- 
 ried out. Maxence, who was a good rider, went with 
 his own horse to Bourges and back between five in the 
 morning and five in the afternoon. Flore never left the 
 old bachelor. Rouget consented without objection to 
 the action Flore dictated to him ; but he insisted that 
 the investment in the Funds, producing fifty thousand 
 francs a year, should stand in Flore's name as hold- 
 ing a life-interest only, and in his as owner of the 
 principal. The tenacity the old man displa} T ed in the 
 domestic disputes which this idea created caused Max 
 a good deal of anxiety ; he thought he could see the 
 
The Two Brothers. 251 
 
 result of reflections inspired b} T the sight of the natural 
 heirs. 
 
 Amid all these important movements, which Max 
 concealed from the knowledge of everyone, he forgot 
 the Spaniard and his granar}-. Fario came back to 
 Issoudun to deliver his corn, after various trips and 
 business manoeuvres undertaken to raise the price of 
 cereals. The morning after his arrival he noticed that 
 the roof of the church of the Capuchins opposite to 
 where he lived was black with pigeons. He cursed 
 himself for having neglected to examine its condition, 
 and hurried over to look into his storehouse, where he 
 found half his grain devoured. Thousands of mice- 
 marks and rat-marks scattered about showed a second 
 cause of ruin. The church was a Noah's-ark. But 
 anger turned the Spaniard white as a bit of cambric 
 when, tiying to estimate the extent of the destruction 
 and his consequent losses, he noticed that the grain at 
 the bottom of the heap, near the floor, was sprouting 
 from the effects of water, which Max had managed to 
 introduce hy means of tin tubes into the very centre of 
 the pile of wheat. The pigeons and the rats could be 
 explained by animal instinct ; but the hand of man was 
 plainly visible in this last sign of malignity. 
 
 Fario sat down on the steps of a chapel altar, holding 
 his head between his hands. After half an hour of Span- 
 ish reflections, he spied the squirrel, which Goddet could 
 not refrain from giving him as a guest, playing with its 
 tail upon a cross-beam, on the middle of which rested one 
 of the uprights that supported the roof. The Spaniard 
 rose and turned to his watchman with a face that was as 
 calm and cold as an Arab's. He made no complaint, 
 but went home, hired laborers to gather into sacks what 
 
252 The Two Brothers. 
 
 remained of the sound grain, and to spread in the sun 
 all that was moist, so as to save as much as possible ; 
 then, after estimating that his losses amounted to about 
 three fifths, he attended to filling his orders. But his 
 previous manipulations of the market had raised the 
 price of cereals, and he lost on the three fifths he was 
 obliged to buy to fill his orders ; so that his losses 
 amounted really to more than half. The Spaniard, who 
 had no enemies, at once attributed this revenge to Gilet. 
 He was convinced that Maxence and some others were 
 the authors of all the nocturnal mischief, and had in 
 all probability carried his cart up the embankment of 
 the tower, and now intended to amuse themselves b}' 
 ruining him. It was a matter to him of over three 
 thousand francs, — very nearly the whole capital he had 
 laboriously scraped together since the peace. Driven 
 b}* the desire for vengeance, the man now displayed 
 the cunning and the stealtlry persistence of a detective 
 to whom a large reward is offered. Hiding at night in 
 different parts of Issoudun, he soon acquired proof of 
 the proceedings of the Knights of Idleness ; he saw 
 them all, counted them, watched their rendezvous, and 
 knew of their suppers at Mere Cognette's ; after that 
 he lay in wait to witness one of their deeds, and thus 
 became well informed as to their nocturnal habits. 
 
 In spite of Max's journeys and pre-occupations, he 
 had no intention of neglecting his nightly employ- 
 ments, — first, because he did not wish his comrades to 
 suspect the secret of his operations with Pere Rouget's 
 property ; and secondly, to keep the Knights well in 
 hand. They were therefore convened for the prepar- 
 ation of a prank which might deserve to be talked of 
 for years to come. Poisoned meat was to be thrown 
 
The Two Brothers. 253 
 
 on a given night to every watch-dog in the town and in 
 the environs. Fario overheard them congratulating each 
 other, as they came out from a supper at the Cognettes', 
 on the probable success of the performance, and laugh- 
 ing over the general mourning that would follow this 
 novel massacre of the innocents, — revelling, moreover, 
 in the apprehensions it would excite as to the sinister 
 object of depriving all the households of their guardian 
 watch-dogs. 
 
 " It will make people forget Fario's cart," said 
 Goddet. 
 
 Fario did not need that speech to confirm his sus 
 picions ; besides, his mind was already made up. 
 
 After three weeks' stay in Issoudun, Agathe was 
 convinced, and so was Madame Hochon, of the truth 
 of the old miser's observation, that it would take jears 
 to destro} T the influence which Max and the Rabouilleuse 
 had acquired over her brother. She had made no 
 progress in Jean-Jacques's confidence, and she was 
 never left alone with him. On the other hand, Made- 
 moiselle Brazier triumphed openty over the heirs b} T 
 taking Agathe to drive in the caleche, sitting beside her 
 on the back seat, while Monsieur Rouget and his nephew 
 occupied the front. Mother and son impatiently awaited 
 an answer to the confidential letter the}' had written to 
 Desroches. The day before the night on which the dogs 
 were to be poisoned, Joseph, who was nearly bored to 
 death in Issoudun, received two letters : the first from 
 the great painter Schinner, — whose age allowed him a 
 closer intimacy than Joseph could have with Gros, their 
 master, — and the second from Desroches. 
 
 Here is the first, postmarked Beaumont-sur-Oise : — 
 
254 The Two Brothers. 
 
 My dear Joseph, — I have just finished the princi- 
 pal panel-paintings at the chateau de Presles for the Comte 
 de Serizy. I have left all the mouldings and the decorative 
 painting; and I have recommended you so strongly to the 
 count, and also to Grindot the architect, that you have 
 nothing to do but pick up your brushes and come at once. 
 Prices are arranged to please you. I am off to Italy with 
 my wife; so you can have Mistigris to help you along. The 
 young scamp has talent, and I put him at your disposal. 
 He is twittering like a sparrow at the very idea of amusing 
 himself at the chateau de Presles. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Joseph ; if I am still absent, and should 
 send nothing to next year's Salon, you must take my place. 
 Yes, dear Jo jo, I know your picture is a masterpiece, but a 
 masterpiece which will rouse a hue and cry about roman- 
 ticism; you are doomed to lead the life of a devil in holy 
 water. Adieu. 
 
 Thy friend, 
 
 Schinner. 
 
 Here follows the letter of Desroches : — 
 
 My dear Joseph, — Your Monsieur Hochon strikes me 
 as an old man full of common-sense, and you give me a high 
 idea of his methods ; he is perfectly right. My advice, since 
 you ask it, is that your mother should remain at Issouduu with 
 Madame Hochon, paying a small board, — say four hundred 
 francs a year, — to reimburse her hosts for what she eats. 
 Madame Bridau ought, in my opinion, to follow Monsieur 
 Hochon 's advice in everything ; for your excellent mother 
 will have many scruples in dealing with persons who have 
 nf> scruple at all, and whose behavior to her is a master- 
 stroke of policy. That Maxence, you are right enough, is 
 dangerous. He is another Philippe, but of a different cali- 
 / bre. The scoundrel makes his vices serve his fortunes, and 
 gets his amusement gratis ; whereas your brother's follies are 
 never useful to him. All that you say alarms me, but I could 
 do no good by going to Issouduu. Monsieur Hochon, acting 
 
The Two Brothers. 255 
 
 behind your mother, will be more useful to you than I. As 
 for you, you had better come back here; you are good for 
 nothing in a matter which requires continual attention, care- 
 ful observation, servile civilities, discretion in speech, and a 
 dissimulation of manner and gesture which is wholly against 
 the grain of artists. 
 
 If they have told you no will has been made, you may be 
 quite sure they have possessed one for a long time. But 
 wills can be revoked, and as long as your fool of an uncle 
 lives he is no doubt susceptible of being worked upon by 
 remorse and religion. Your inheritance will be the result of 
 a combat between the Church and the. Rabouilleuse. There 
 will inevitably come a time when that woman will lose her 
 grip on the old man, and religion will be all-powerful. So 
 long as your uncle makes no gift of the property during his 
 lifetime, and does not change the nature of his estate, all 
 may come right whenever religion gets the upper hand. 
 For this reason, you must beg Monsieur Hochon to keep an 
 eye, as well as he can, on the condition of your uncle's 
 property. It is necessary to know if the real estate is mort- 
 gaged, and if so, where and in whose name the proceeds are 
 invested. It is so easy to terrify an old man with fears 
 about his life, in case you find him despoiling his own 
 property for the sake of these interlopers, that almost any 
 heir with a little adroitness could stop the spoliation at the 
 outset. But how should your mother, with her ignorance of 
 the world, her disinterestedness, and her religious ideas, know 
 how to manage such an affair? However, I am not able to 
 throw any light on the matter. All that you have done so 
 far has probably given the alarm, and your adversaries may 
 already have secured themselves — 
 
 "That is what I call an opinion in good shape" 
 exclaimed Monsieur Hochon, proud of being himself 
 appreciated by a Parisian lawyer. 
 
 u Oh ! Desroches is a famous fellow," answered 
 Joseph. 
 
256 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " It would be well to read that letter to the twn 
 women," said the old man. 
 
 " There it is," said Joseph, giving it to him ; " as to 
 me, I want to be off to-morrow ; and I am now going to 
 say good-bv to my uncle." 
 
 "Ah!" said Monsieur Hochon, "I see that Mon- 
 sieur Desroches tells you in a postscript to burn the 
 letter." 
 
 " You can burn it after showing it to my mother," 
 said the painter. 
 
 Joseph dressed, crossed the little square, and called 
 on his uncle, who was just finishing breakfast. Max 
 and Flore were at table. 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself, my dear uncle ; I have onty 
 come to say good-by." 
 
 "You are going?" said Max, exchanging glances 
 with Flore. 
 
 " Yes ; I have some work to do at the chateau of 
 Monsieur de Seriz} T , and I am all the more glad of it 
 because his arm is long enough to do a service to my 
 my poor brother in the Chamber of Peers." 
 
 " Well, well, go and work;" said old Rouget, with 
 a silly air. Joseph thought him extraordinarily changed 
 within a few days. " Men must work — I am sorry you 
 are going." 
 
 "Oh! my mother will be here some time longer," 
 remarked Joseph. 
 
 Max made a movement with his lips which the Ra- 
 bouilleuse observed, and which signified : " They are 
 going to try the plan Baruch warned me of." 
 
 " I am very glad I came," said Joseph, " for I have 
 had the pleasure of making your acquaintance and you 
 have enriched 1113' studio — " 
 
The Two Brothers. 257 
 
 t< 
 
 Yes," said Flore, u instead of enlightening your 
 uncle on the value of his pictures, which is now esti- 
 mated at over one hundred thousand francs, you have 
 packed them off' in a hurry to Paris. Poor dear man ! 
 he is no better than a baby ! We have just been told 
 of a little treasure at Bourges, — what did they call 
 it? a Poussin, — which was in the choir of the cathedral 
 before the Revolution, and is now worth, all by itself, 
 thirty thousand francs." 
 
 M That was not right of 3*011, my nephew," said Jean- 
 Jacques, at a sign from Max, which Joseph could not 
 see. 
 
 "Come now, frankly," said the soldier, laughing, 
 " on your honor, what should you say those pictures 
 were worth ? You 've made an eas3* haul out of }*our 
 uncle ! and right enough, too, — uncles are made to be 
 pillaged. Nature deprived me of uncles, but damn it, 
 if I 'd had an}' I should have shown them no mercy." 
 
 u Did } r ou know, monsieur," said Flore to Rouget, 
 H what your pictures were worth? How much did you 
 say, Monsieur Joseph? " 
 
 " Well," answered the painter, who had grown as 
 red as a beetroot, — " the pictures are certainly worth 
 something." 
 
 " The}' sa} T you estimated them to Monsieur Hochon 
 at one hundred and fifty thousand francs," said Flore ; 
 "is that true?" 
 
 ** Yes," said the painter, with childlike honesty. 
 
 "And did 3*011 intend," said Flore to the old man, 
 " to give a hundred and fifty thousand francs to your 
 nephew?" 
 
 " Never, never ! " cried Jean- Jacques, on whom Flore 
 had fixed her eye. 
 
 17 
 
258 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "There is one way to settle all this," said the 
 painter, "and that is to return them to you, uncle." 
 
 " No, no, keep them," said the old man. 
 
 " I shall send them back to .you," said Joseph, 
 wounded hy the offensive silence of Max and Flore. 
 " There is something in my brushes which will make my 
 fortune, without owing anything to any one, even an 
 uncle. My respects to you, mademoiselle ; good-day, 
 monsieur — " 
 
 And Joseph crossed the square in a state of irrita- 
 tion which artists can imagine. The entire Hoehon 
 family were in the salon. When they saw Joseph gestic- 
 ulating and talking to himself, the}' asked him what was 
 the matter. The painter, who was as open as the day, 
 related before Baruch and Francois the scene that had 
 just taken place ; and which, two hours later, thanks to 
 the two young men, was the talk of the whole town, 
 embroidered with various circumstances that w r ere 
 more or less ridiculous. Some persons insisted that 
 the painter was maltreated by Max ; others that he 
 had misbehaved to Flore, and that Max had turned 
 him out of doors. 
 
 "What a child 3-011 r son is!" said Hoehon to Ma- 
 dame Bridau ; " the booby is the dupe of a scene which 
 they have been keeping back for the last day of his 
 visit. Max and the Rabouilleuse have known the value 
 of those pictures for the last two weeks, — ever since 
 he had the folly to tell it before my grandsons, who 
 never rested till the}- had blurted it out to all the world. 
 Your artist had better have taken himself off without 
 taking leave." 
 
 " M3- son has done right to return the pictures if they 
 are reall3' so valuable," said Agathe. 
 
The Two Brothers. 259 
 
 "If they are worth, as he says, two hundred thou- 
 sand francs," said old Hochon, kfc it was folly to put 
 himself in the way of being obliged to return them. 
 You might have had that, at least, out of the property ; 
 whereas, as things are going now, you won't get any- 
 thing. And this scene with Joseph is almost a reason 
 why your brother should refuse to see you again." 
 
260 The Two Brothers. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Between midnight and one o'clock, the Knights of 
 Idleness began their gratuitous distribution of comesti- 
 bles to the dogs of the town. This memorable expedi- 
 tion was not over till three in the morning, the hour 
 at which these reprobates went to sup at Cognette's. 
 At half-past four, in the early dawn, thej* crept home. 
 Just as Max turned the corner of the rue l'Avenier into 
 the Grande rue, Fario, who stood ambushed in a recess, 
 struck a knife at his heart, drew out the blade, and 
 escaped by the moat towards Vilatte, wiping the blade of 
 his knife on his handkerchief. The Spaniard washed 
 the handkerchief in the Riviere forcee, and returned 
 quietly to his lodgings at Saint-Paterne, where he got in 
 by a window he had left open, and went to bed : later, 
 he was awakened 03- his new watchman, who found him 
 fast asleep. 
 
 As he fell, Max uttered a fearful cr\ T which no one 
 could mistake. Lousteau-Prangin, son of a judge, a 
 distant relation to the family of the sub-delegate, and 
 young Goddet, who lived at the lower end of the Grande 
 rue, ran at full speed up the street, calling to each 
 other, — 
 
 " They are killing Max ! Help ! help ! " 
 
 But not a dog barked ; and all the town, accustomed 
 to the false alarms of these nightly prowlers, stayed 
 quietly in their beds. When his two comrades reached 
 him, Max had fainted. It was necessary to rouse Mon- 
 
The Two Brothers. 261 
 
 sieur Goddet, the surgeon. Max had recognized Fario ; 
 but when he came to his senses, with several persons 
 about him, and felt that his wound was not mortal, it 
 suddenly occurred to him to make capital out of the 
 attack, and he said, in a faint voice, — 
 
 " I think I recognized that cursed painter ! " 
 
 Thereupon Lousteau-Prangin ran off to his father, the 
 judge. Max was carried home by Cognette, young 
 Goddet, and two other persons. Mere Cognette and 
 Monsieur Goddet walked beside the stretcher. Those 
 who carried the wounded man naturally looked across 
 at Monsieur Hochon's door while waiting for Kouski 
 to let them in, and saw Monsieur Hochon's servant 
 sweeping the steps. At the old miser's, as everywhere 
 else in the provinces, the household was early astir. 
 The few words uttered by Max had roused the sus- 
 picions of Monsieur Goddet, and he called to the 
 woman, — 
 
 11 Gritte, is Monsieur Joseph Bridau in bed?" 
 
 "Bless me!" she said, "he went out at half-past 
 four. I don't know what ailed him ; he walked up and 
 down his room all night." 
 
 This simple answer drew forth such exclamations of 
 horror that the woman came over, curious to know 
 what they were carrying to old Rouge t's house. 
 
 "A precious fellow he is, that painter of yours ! " 
 they said to her. And the procession entered the house, 
 leaving Gritte open-mouthed with amazement at the 
 sight of Max in his bloody shirt, stretched half-fainting 
 on a mattress. 
 
 Artists will readily guess what ailed Joseph, and kept 
 him restless all night. He imagined the tale the bour- 
 geoisie of Issoudun would tell of him. They would say 
 
262 The Two Brothers. 
 
 he had fleeced his uncle ; that he was everything but 
 what he had tried to be, — a loyal fellow and an hon- 
 est artist ! Ah ! he would have given his great picture 
 to have flown like a swallow to Paris, and thrown 
 his uncle's paintings at Max's nose. To be the one 
 robbed, and to be thought the robber ! — what irony ! 
 So at the earliest dawn, he had started for the poplar 
 avenue which led to Tivoli, to give free course to his 
 agitation. 
 
 While the innocent fellow was vowing, by way of 
 consolation, never to return to Issoudun, Max was 
 preparing a horrible outrage for his sensitive spirit. 
 When Monsieur Goddet had probed the wound and 
 discovered that the knife, turned aside by a little 
 pocket-book, had happily spared Max's life (though 
 making a serious wound), he did as all doctors, and 
 particularly county surgeons, do ; he paved the way 
 for his own credit by " not answering for the patient's 
 life ; " and then, after dressing the soldier's wound, and 
 stating the verdict of science to the Rabouilleuse, Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget, Kouski, and the Vedie, he left the 
 house. The Rabouilleuse came in tears to her dear 
 Max, while Kouski and the Vedie told the assembled 
 crowd that the captain was in a fair way to die. The 
 news brought nearly two hundred persons in groups 
 about the place Saint-Jean and the two Narettes. 
 
 " I sha' n't be a month in bed ; and I know who struck 
 the blow," whispered Max to Flore. " But we '11 profit 
 by it to get rid of the Parisians. I have said I thought 
 I recognized the painter ; so pretend that I am expected 
 to die, and try to have Joseph Bridau arrested. Let him 
 taste a prison for a couple of days, and I know well 
 enough the mother will be off in a jiffy for Paris when 
 
The Two Brothers. 263 
 
 she gets him out. And then we need n't fear the 
 priests the} 7 talk of setting on the old fool." 
 
 When Flore Brazier came downstairs, she found the 
 assembled crowd quite prepared to take the impression 
 she meant to give them. She went out with tears in her 
 eyes, and related, sobbing, how the painter, "who had 
 just the face for that sort of thing," had been angry 
 with Max the night before about some pictures he had 
 " wormed out " of Pere Rouget. 
 
 " That brigand — for you 've only got to look at him 
 to see what he is — thinks that if Max were dead, his 
 uncle would leave him his fortune ; as if," she cried, 
 "a brother were not more to him than a nephew! 
 Max is Doctor Rouge t's son. The old one told me so 
 before he died ! " 
 
 "Ah! he meant to do the deed just before he left 
 Issoudun ; he chose his time, for he was going away 
 to-day," said one of the Knights of Idleness. 
 
 " Max has n't an enemy in Issoudun," said another. 
 
 " Besides, Max recognized the painter," said the 
 Rabouilleuse. 
 
 " Where 's that cursed Parisian? Let us find him ! " 
 the} 7 all cried. 
 
 "Find him?" was the answer, "win', he left Mon- 
 sieur Hochon's at daybreak." 
 
 A Knight of Idleness ran off at once to Monsieur 
 Mouilleron. The crowd increased ; and the tumult 
 became threatening. Excited groups filled up the 
 whole of the Grand e-Narette. Others stationed them- 
 selves before the church of Saint-Jean. An assemblage 
 gathered at the porte Vilatte, which is at the farther 
 end of the Petite-Narette. Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin 
 and Monsieur Mouilleron, the commissary of police, 
 
264 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the lieutenant of gendarmes, and two of his men, had 
 some difficulty in reaching the place Saint-Jean through 
 two hedges of people, whose cries and exclamations 
 could and did prejudice them against the Parisian ; who 
 was, it is needless to say, unjustly accused, although, it 
 is true, circumstances told against him. 
 
 After a conference between Max and the magistrates, 
 Monsieur Mouilleron sent the commissary of police and 
 a sergeant with one gendarme to examine what, in the 
 language of the ministry of the interior, is called " the 
 theatre of the crime." Then Messieurs Mouilleron 
 and Lousteau-Prangin, accompanied by the lieutenant 
 of gendarmes crossed over to the Hochon house, which 
 was now guarded by two gendarmes in the garden and 
 two at the front door. The crowd was still increasing. 
 The whole town was surging in the Grande rue. 
 
 Gritte had rushed terrified to her master, crying out : 
 •' Monsieur, we shall be pillaged ! the town is in revolt ; 
 Monsieur Maxence Gilet has been assassinated ; he is 
 dying ! and they say it is Monsieur Joseph who has 
 done it ! " 
 
 Monsieur Hochon dressed quickly, and came down- 
 stairs ; but seeing the angry populace, he hastily re- 
 treated within the house, and bolted the door. On 
 questioning Gritte, he learned that his guest had left 
 the house at daybreak, after walking the floor all night 
 in great agitation, and had not yet come in. Much 
 alarmed, he went to find Madame Hochon, who was 
 already awakened by the noise, and to whom he told 
 the frightful news which, true or false, was causing 
 almost- a riot in Issoudun. 
 
 "He is innocent, of course," said Madame Hochon. 
 
 " But before his innocence can be proved, the crowd 
 
The Two Brothers. 265 
 
 ma} 7 get in here and pillage us," said Monsieur Hochon, 
 livid with fear, for he had gold in his cellar. 
 
 " Where is Agathe?" 
 
 " Sound asleep." 
 
 44 Ah! so much the better," said Madame Hochon. 
 " I wish she may sleep on till the matter is cleared 
 up. Such a shock might kill the poor child." 
 
 But Agathe woke up and came down half-dressed ; 
 for the evasive answers of Gritte, whom she questioned, 
 had disturbed both her head and heart. She found 
 Madame Hochon, looking very pale, with her eyes full 
 of tears, at one of the windows of the salon beside her 
 husband. 
 
 tf Courage, m} T child. God sends us our afflictions," 
 said the old lady. " Joseph is accused — " 
 
 44 Of what?" 
 
 " Of a bad action which he could never have com- 
 mitted," answered Madame Hochon. 
 
 Hearing the words, and seeing the lieutenant of gen- 
 darmes, who at this moment entered the room accom- 
 panied by the two gentlemen, Agathe fainted away. 
 
 "There now!" said Monsieur Hochon to his wife 
 and Gritte, " carry off' Madame Bridau ; women are 
 only in the way at these times. Take her to her room 
 and stay there, both of you. Sit down, gentlemen," 
 continued the old man. "The mistake to which we 
 owe your visit will soon, I hope, be cleared up." 
 
 "Even if it should be a mistake," said Monsieur 
 Mouilleron, " the excitement of the crowd is so great, 
 and their minds are so exasperated, that I fear for the 
 safety of the. accused. I should like to get him arrested, 
 and that might satisfy these people." 
 
 ik Who would ever have believed that Monsieur 
 
266 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Maxence Gilet had inspired so much affection in this 
 town?" said Lousteau-Frangin. 
 
 '•One of my men says there's a crowd of twelve 
 hundred more just coming in from the faubourg de 
 Rome," said the lieutenant of gendarmes, "and they 
 are threatening death to the assassin." 
 
 "Where is your guest?" said Monsieur Mouilleron 
 to Monsieur Hochon. 
 
 " He has gone to walk in the countiy, I believe." 
 
 "Call Gritte," said the judge gravely. "I was in 
 hopes he had not left the house. You are aware that the 
 crime was committed not far from here, at daybreak." 
 
 While Monsieur Hochon went to find Gritte, the three 
 functionaries looked at each other significantly. 
 
 " I never liked that painter's face," said the lieutenant 
 to Monsieur Mouilleron. 
 
 "Mj T good woman," said the judge to Gritte, when 
 she appeared, "they say 3011 saw Monsieur Joseph 
 Bridau leave the house this morning?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," she answered, trembling like a leaf. 
 
 "At what hour?" 
 
 " Just as I was getting up : he walked about his room 
 all night, and was dressed when I came downstairs." 
 
 "Was it daylight!" 
 
 "Barely." 
 
 " Did he seem excited?" 
 
 " Yes, he was all of a twitter." 
 
 " Send one of 3 our men for my clerk," said Lonsteau- 
 Prangin to the lieutenant, " and tell him to bring war- 
 rants with him — " 
 
 " Good God ! don't be in such a hurry," cried Mon- 
 sieur Hochon. " The young man's agitation may have 
 been caused by something besides the premeditation of 
 
The Two Brothers. 267 
 
 this crime. He meant to return to Paris to-day, to 
 attend to a matter in which Gilet and Mademoiselle 
 Brazier had doubted his honor." 
 
 "Yes, the affair of the pictures," said Monsieur 
 Mouilleron. M Those pictures caused a very hot quarrel 
 between them yesterday, and it is a word and a blow 
 with artists, they tell me." 
 
 "Who is there in Issoudun who had any object in 
 killing Gilet?" said Lousteau. "No one, — neither a 
 jealous husband nor anybody else ; for the fellow has 
 never harmed a soul." 
 
 " But what was Monsieur Gilet doing in the streets 
 at four in the morning ? " remarked Monsieur Hochon. 
 
 "Now, Monsieur Hochon, 3 t ou must allow us to man- 
 age this affair in our own wa}*," answered Mouilleron ; 
 "3011 don't know all : Gilet recognized your painter." 
 
 At this instant a clamor was heard from the other 
 end of the town, growing louder and louder, like the 
 roll of thunder, as it followed the course of the Grande- 
 Narette. 
 
 " Here he is ! here he is ! — he 's arrested ! " 
 
 These words .rose distinctly on the ear above the 
 hoarse roar of the populace. Poor Joseph, returning 
 quietly past the mill at Landrole intending to get home 
 in time for breakfast, was spied by the various groups of 
 people, as soon as he reached the place Misere. Happily 
 for him, a couple of gendarmes arrived on a run in time 
 to snatch him from the inhabitants of the faubourg de 
 Rome, who had already pinioned him by the arms and 
 were threatening him with death. 
 
 "Give way ! give way ! " cried the gendarmes, calling 
 to some of their comrades to help them, and putting 
 themselves one before and the other behind Bridau. 
 
268 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "You see, monsieur," said the one who held the 
 painter, M it concerns our skin as well as yours at this 
 moment. Innocent or guilty, we must protect you 
 against the tumult raised b}' the murder of Captain Gilet. 
 And the crowd is not satisfied with suspecting you ; they 
 declare, hard as iron, that 3*011 are the murderer. Mon- 
 sieur Gilet is adored hy all the people, who — look at 
 them ! — want to take justice into their own hands. Ah ! 
 did n't we see them, in 1830, dusting the jackets of the 
 tax-gatherers ? whose life is n't a bed of roses, anj T way ! " 
 
 Joseph Bridau grew as pale as death, and collected all 
 his strength to walk onward. 
 
 " After all," he said, %w I am innocent. Go on ! " 
 
 Poor artist ! he was forced to bear his cross. Amid 
 the hooting and insults and threats of the mob, he made 
 the dreadful transit from the place Misere to the place 
 Saint-Jean. The gendarmes were obliged to draw their 
 sabres on the furious mob, which pelted them with stones. 
 One of the officers was wounded, and Joseph received 
 several of the missiles on his legs, and shoulders, 
 and hat. 
 
 " Here we are ! " said one of the geudarmes, as they 
 entered Monsieur Hochon's hall, " and not without dif- 
 ficulty, lieutenant." 
 
 M We must now manage to disperse the crowd ; and 
 I see but one wa}*, gentlemen," said the lieutenant to 
 the magistrates. "We must take Monsieur Bridau to 
 the Palais accompanied by all of 3'ou ; I and my gend- 
 armes will make a circle round 30U. One can't answer 
 for anything in presence of a furious crowd of six 
 thousand — " 
 
 "You are right," said Monsieur Hochon, who was 
 trembling all the while for his gold. 
 
The Two Brothers. 269 
 
 "If that's your only way to protect innocence in 
 Issoudun," said Joseph, "I congratulate you. I came 
 near being stoned — " 
 
 " Do you wish your friend's house to be taken by 
 assault and pillaged?" asked the lieutenant. "Could 
 we beat back with our sabres a crowd of people who 
 are pushed from behind by an angry populace that 
 knows nothing of the forms of justice?" 
 
 " That will do, gentlemen, let us go ; we can come to 
 explanations later," said Joseph, who had recovered his 
 self-possession. 
 
 "Give way, friends!" said the lieutenant to the 
 crowd ; " he is arrested, and we are taking him to the 
 Palais." 
 
 " Respect the law, friends ! " said Monsieur Mouilleron. 
 
 " Wouldn't you prefer to see him guillotined?" said 
 one of the gendarmes to an angry group. 
 
 "Yes, yes, they shall guillotine him!" shouted one 
 madman. 
 
 " The}- are going to guillotine him ! " cried the women. 
 
 By the time they reached the end of the Grande - 
 Narette the crowd were shouting: " Thej T are taking 
 him to the guillotine ! " "They found the knife upon 
 him!" "That's what Parisians are!" "He carries 
 crime on his face ! " 
 
 Though all Joseph's blood had flown to his head, he 
 walked the distance from the place Saint-Jean to the 
 Palais with remarkable calmness and self-possession. 
 Nevertheless, he was very glad to find himself in the 
 private office of Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin. 
 
 " I need hardly tell you, gentlemen, that I am in- 
 nocent," said Joseph, addressing Monsieur Mouilleron, 
 Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin, and the clerk. " I can 
 
270 The Two Brothers. 
 
 only beg you to assist me in proving my innocence. I 
 know nothing of this affair." 
 
 When the judge had stated all the suspicious facts 
 which were against him, ending with Max's declaration, 
 Joseph was astounded. 
 
 '^But," said he, " it was past five o'clock when I 
 left the house. I went up the Grande rue, and at half- 
 past five I w r as standing looking up at the facade of the 
 parish church of Saint-Cyr. I talked there with the 
 sexton, who came to ring the angelus, and asked him 
 for information about the building, which seems to me 
 fantastic and incomplete. Then I passed through the 
 vegetable-market, where some women had already as- 
 sembled. From there, crossing the place Misere, I went 
 as far as the mill of Landrole by the Pont aux Anes, 
 where I watched the ducks for five or six minutes, and 
 the miller's men must have noticed me. I saw the 
 women going to wash ; they are probably still there. 
 They made a little fun of me, and declared I was not 
 handsome ; I told them it was not all gold that glit- 
 tered. From there, I followed the long avenue to 
 Tivoli, where I talked with the gardener. Pray have 
 these facts verified ; and do not even arrest me, for I 
 give you my word of honor that I will stay quietly in 
 this office till you are convinced of nry innocence." 
 
 These sensible words, said without the least hesita- 
 tion, and with the ease of a man who is perfectly sure 
 of his facts, made some impression on the magistrates. 
 
 " Yes, we must find all those persons and summon 
 them," said Monsieur Mouilleron ; kt but it is more than 
 the affair of a day. Make up your mind, therefore, in 
 3'our own interests, to be imprisoned in the Palais." 
 
 " Provided I can write to my mother, so as to reas- 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 271 
 
 sure her, poor woman — oh ! you can read the letter," 
 he added. 
 
 This request was too just not to be granted, and 
 Joseph wrote the following letter : — 
 
 " Do not be uneasy, dear mother: the mistake of which 1 
 am a victim can easily be rectified; I have already given 
 them the means of doing so. To-morrow, or perhaps this 
 evening, I shall be at liberty. I kiss you, and beg you to 
 say to Monsieur and Madame Hochon how grieved I am at 
 this affair; in which, however, I have had no hand, — it is the 
 result of some chance which, as yet, I do not understand." 
 
 When the note reached Madame Bridau, she was 
 suffering from a nervous attack, and the potions which 
 Monsieur Goddet was trying to make her swallow were 
 powerless to soothe her. The reading of the letter 
 acted like balm ; after a few quiverings, Agathe sub- 
 sided into the depression which always follows such 
 attacks. Later, when Monsieur Goddet returned to 
 his patient he found her regretting that she had ever 
 quitted Paris. 
 
 " Well," said Madame Hochon to Monsieur Goddet, 
 " how is Monsieur Gilet? " 
 
 " His wound, though serious, is not mortal," replied 
 the doctor. " With a month's nursing he will be all 
 right. I left him writing to Monsieur Mouilleron to 
 request him to set your son at liberty', madame," he 
 added, turning to Agathe. " Oh ! Max is a fine fellow. 
 I told him what a state you were in, and he then re- 
 membered a circumstance which goes to prove that the 
 assassin was not your son ; the man wore list shoes, 
 whereas it is certain that Monsieur Joseph left the 
 house in his boots — " 
 
272 The Two Brothers. 
 
 44 Ah! God forgive him the harm he has done 
 me — " 
 
 The fact was, a man had left a note for Max, after 
 dark, written in type-letters, which ran as follows : — 
 
 " Captain Gilet ought not to let an innocent man suffer. 
 lie who struck the blow promises not to strike again if 
 Monsieur Gilet will have Monsieur Joseph Bridau set at 
 liberty, without naming the man who did it." 
 
 After reading this letter and burning it, Max wrote 
 to Monsieur Mouilleron stating the circumstance of the 
 list shoes, as reported by Monsieur Goddet, begging 
 him to set Joseph at liberty, and to come and see him 
 that he might explain the matter more at length. 
 
 By the time this letter was received, Monsieur Lous- 
 teau-Prangin had verified, by the testimony of the bell- 
 ringer, the market-women and washerwomen, and the 
 miller's men, the truth of Joseph's explanation. Max's 
 letter made his innocence only the more certain, and 
 Monsieur Mouilleron himself escorted him back to the 
 Hochons'. Joseph was greeted with such overflowing 
 tenderness by his mother that the poor misunderstood 
 son gave thanks to ill-luck — like the husband to the 
 thief, in La P^ontaine's fable — for a mishap which 
 brought him such proofs of affection. 
 
 44 Oh," said Monsieur Mouilleron, with a self-satisfied 
 air, 4t I knew at once by the way you looked at the 
 angry crowd that you were innocent ; but whatever I 
 may have thought, any one who knows Issoudun must 
 also know that the onty waj* to protect 3^011 was to 
 make the arrest as we did. Ah ! you carried your 
 head high." 
 
 44 1 was thinking of something else," said the artist 
 
The Two Brothers. 273 
 
 simply. "An officer in the army told me that he was 
 once stopped in Dalmatia under similar circumstances 
 by an excited populace, in the earl}' morning as he was 
 returning from a walk. This recollection came into 
 my mind, and I looked at all those heads with the idea 
 of painting a revolt of the year 1793. Besides, I kept 
 saying to myself: Blackguard that I am ! I have only 
 got my deserts for coming here to look after an inheri- 
 tance, instead of painting in my studio." 
 
 "If you will allow me to offer 30U a piece of ad- 
 vice," said the procureur du roi, " you will take a car- 
 riage to-night, which the postmaster will lend you, and 
 return to Paris by the diligence from Bourges." 
 
 w That is my advice also," said Monsieur Hochon, 
 who was burning with a desire for the departure of his 
 guests. 
 
 " M} T most earnest wish is to get away from Issou- 
 dun, though I leave my only friend here," said Agathe, 
 kissing Madame Hochon's hand. u When shall I see 
 3'ou again ? " 
 
 "Ah! my dear, never until we meet above. We 
 have suffered enough here below," she added in a low 
 voice, " for God to take pit}' upon us." 
 
 Shortly after, while Monsieur Mouilleron had gone 
 across the wa}' to talk with Max, Gritte greatly aston- 
 ished Monsieur and Madame Hochon, Agathe, Joseph, 
 and Adolphine by announcing the visit of Monsieur 
 Ronget. Jean-Jacques came to bid his sister good-b}-, 
 and to offer her his caleche for the drive to Bourges. 
 
 "Ah! your pictures have been a great evil to us," 
 said Agathe. 
 
 " Keep them, my sister," said the old man, who did 
 not even now believe in their value. 
 
 18 
 
274 The Two Brothers. 
 
 44 Neighbor," remarked Monsieur Hochon, " our best 
 friends, our surest defenders, are our own relations ; 
 above all, when the}' are such as 30111' sister Agathe, 
 and your nephew Joseph." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said old Rouget in his dull way. 
 
 M We ought all to think of ending our days in a 
 Christian manner," said Madame Hochon. 
 
 "Ah! Jean-Jacques," said Agathe, ''.what a day 
 this has been ! " 
 
 ' ' Will }'ou accept my carriage ? " asked Rouget, 
 
 " No, brother," answered Madame Bridau, " I thank 
 you, and wish you health and comfort." 
 
 Rouget let his sister and nephew kiss him, and then 
 he went away without manifesting any feeling himself. 
 Baruch, at a hint from his grandfather, had been to see 
 the postmaster. At eleven o'clock that night, the two 
 Parisians, ensconced in a wicker cabriolet drawn 03- one 
 horse and ridden b3 T a postilion, quitted Issoudun. Adol- 
 phine and Madame Hochon parted from them with tears 
 in their eyes ; the3' alone regretted Joseph and Agathe. 
 
 44 The3' are gone!" said Francois Hochon, going, 
 with the Rabouilleuse, into Max's bedroom. 
 
 44 Well done! the trick succeeded," answered Max, 
 who was now tired and feverish. 
 
 4 4 But what did you say to old Mouilleron ? " asked 
 Francois. 
 
 44 1 told him that I had given my assassin some cause 
 to wayla3 T me ; that he was a dangerous man and likely, 
 if I followed up the affair, to kill me like a dog before 
 he could be captured. Consequently, I begged Mouil- 
 leron and Praugin to make the most active search 
 ostensibty, but really to let the assassin go in peace, 
 unless the3' wished to see me a dead man." 
 
The Two Brothers. 275 
 
 "I do hope, Max," said Flore, "that you will be 
 quiet at night for some time to come." 
 
 44 At any rate, we are delivered from the Parisians ! " 
 cried Max. " The fellow who stabbed me had no idea 
 what a service he was doing us." 
 
 The next da}', the departure of the Parisians was 
 celebrated as a victory of the provinces over Paris by 
 every one in Issoudun, except the more sober and staid 
 inhabitants, who shared the opinions of Monsieur and 
 Madame Hochon. A few of Max's friends spoke very 
 harshly of the Bridaus. 
 
 " Do those Parisians fancy we are all idiots," cried 
 one, " and think they have only got to hold their hats 
 and catch legacies ? " 
 
 44 They came to fleece, but they have got shorn them- 
 selves," said another ; " the nephew is not to the uncle's 
 taste." 
 
 " And, if 3'ou please, they actually consulted a law} T er 
 in Paris — " 
 
 44 Ah ! had they really a plan? " 
 
 44 Why, of course, — a plan to get possession of old 
 Rouget. But the Parisians were not clever enough ; 
 that law}'er can't crow over us Berrichons ! " 
 
 44 How abominable ! " 
 
 44 That's Paris for you ! " 
 
 44 The Rabouilleuse knew they came to attack her, 
 and she defended herself." 
 
 44 She did gloriously right ! " 
 
 To the townspeople at large the Bridaus were Paris- 
 ians and foreigners ; the}* preferred Max and Flore. 
 
 We can imagine the satisfaction with which, after 
 this campaign, Joseph and Agathe re-entered their little 
 
276 The Two Brothers. 
 
 lodging in the rue Mazarin. On the journey, the artist 
 recovered his spirits, which had, not unnaturally, been 
 put to flight by his arrest and twenty-four hours' confine- 
 ment ; but he could not cheer up his mother. The Court 
 of Peers was about to begin the trial of the militaiy con- 
 spirators, and that was sufficient to keep Agathe from 
 recovering her peace of mind. Philippe's conduct, in 
 spite of the clever defender whom Desroches recom- 
 mended to him, roused suspicions that were unfavorable 
 to his character. In view of this, Joseph, as soon as he 
 had put Desroches in possession of all that was going 
 on at Issoudun, started with Mistigris for the chateau of 
 the Comte de Serizy, to escape hearing about the trial 
 of the conspirators, which lasted for twenty days. 
 
 It is useless to record facts that may be found in con- 
 temporaneous histories. Whether it were that he played 
 a part previously agreed upon, or that he was reall}' an 
 informer, Philippe was condemned to five 3-ears' surveil- 
 lance by the police department, and ordered to leave 
 Paris the same day for Autun, the town which the direc- 
 tor-general of police selected as the place of his exile 
 for five years. This punishment resembled the deten- 
 tion of prisoners on parole who have a town for a 
 prison. Learning that the Comte de Seriz}-, one of 
 the peers appointed by the Chamber on the court- 
 martial, was employing Joseph to decorate his chateau 
 at Presles, Desroches begged the minister to grant 
 him an audience, and found Monsieur de Serizy most 
 amiably disposed toward Joseph, with whom he had 
 happened to make personal acquaintance. Desroches 
 explained the financial condition of the two brothers, 
 recalling the services of the father, and the neglect 
 shown to them under the Restoration. 
 
The Two Brothers. 277 
 
 '* Such injustice, monseigneur," said the law}^er, " is 
 a lasting cause of irritation and discontent. You knew 
 the father ; give the sons a chance, at least, of making 
 a fortune — " 
 
 And he drew a succinct picture of the situation of 
 the family affairs at Issoudun, begging the all-powerful 
 vice-president of the Council of State to take steps to 
 induce the director-general of police to change Philippe's 
 place of residence from Autun to Issoudun. He also 
 spoke of Philippe's extreme poverty, and asked a dole 
 of sixty francs a month, which the minister of war 
 ought, he said, for mere shame's sake, to grant to a 
 former lieutenant-colonel. 
 
 " I will obtain all you ask of me, for I think it just," 
 replied the count. 
 
 Three days later, Desroches, furnished with the neces- 
 sary authority, fetched Philippe from the prison of the 
 Court of Peers, and took him to his own house, rue de 
 Bethiz}\ Once there, the 3'oung barrister read the 
 miserable vagabond one of those unanswerable lectures 
 in which lawyers rate things at their actual value ; using 
 plain terms to qualify the conduct, and to analyze and 
 reduce to their simplest meaning the sentiments and 
 ideas of clients toward whom they feel enough interest 
 to speak plainl\\ After humbling the Emperor's staff- 
 officer 03- reproaching him with his reckless dissipations, 
 his mother's misfortunes, and the death of Madame Des- 
 coings, he went on to tell him the state of things at 
 Issoudun, explaining it according to his lights, and 
 probing both the scheme and the character of Maxence 
 Gilet and the Rabouilleuse to their depths. Philippe, 
 who was gifted with a keen comprehension in such 
 directions, listened with much more interest to this 
 
278 The Two Brothers. 
 
 part of Desroches's lecture than to what had gone 
 before. 
 
 " Under these circumstances," continued the lawyer, 
 " you can repair the injury you have done to your esti- 
 mable family, — so far at least as it is reparable ; for 30U 
 cannot restore life to the poor mother you have all but 
 killed. But \-ou alone can — " 
 
 44 What can I do?" asked Philippe. 
 
 " I have obtained a change of residence for 3 ou from 
 Autun to Issoudun. — " 
 
 Philippe's sunken face, which had grown almost sin- 
 ister in expression and was furrowed with sufferings 
 and privation, instantly lighted up with a Hash of ]o\. 
 
 44 And, as I was sajing, you alone can recover the 
 inheritance of old Rouget's property; half of which may 
 03- this time be in the jaws of the wolf named Gilet," 
 replied Desroches. ' ' You now know all the particulars, 
 and it is for 30U to act accordingly. I suggest no plan ; 
 I have no ideas at all as to that ; besides, everything 
 will depend on local circumstances. You have to deal 
 with a strong force ; that fellow is very astute. The 
 way he attempted to get back the pictures your uncle 
 had given to Joseph, the audacit}' with which he laid a 
 crime on your poor brother's shoulders, all go to prove 
 that the adversary is capable of everything. Therefore, 
 be prudent ; and try to behave property from policy, if 
 you can't do so out of decenc}\ Without telling Joseph, 
 whose artist's pride would be up in arms, I have sent 
 the pictures to Monsieur Hochon, telling him to give 
 them up to no one but 30U. Ify the way, Maxence 
 Gilet is a brave man." 
 
 " So much the better," said Philippe ; 44 1 count on his 
 courage for success ; a coward would leave Issoudun." 
 
The Two Brothers. 279 
 
 " Well, — think of 3*0111* mother who has been so de- 
 voted to 30U, and of your brother, whom you made your 
 milch cow." 
 
 " Ah ! did he tell you that nonsense ? " cried Philippe. 
 
 "Am I not the friend of the family, and don't I 
 know much more about you than they do?" asked 
 Desroches. 
 
 " What do you know?" said Philippe. 
 
 " That 3-011 betrayed your comrades." 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Philippe. " I ! a staff-officer of the 
 Emperor ! Absurd ! Why, we fooled the Chamber of 
 Peers, the lawyers, the government, and the whole of 
 the damned concern. The king's people were com- 
 pletely hood- winked." 
 
 "That's all very well, if it was so," answered the 
 law3'er. " But, don't you see, the Bourbons can't be 
 overthrown ; all Europe is backing them ; and you 
 ought to try and make your peace with the war depart- 
 ment, — you could do that readily enough if you were 
 rich. To get rich, you and your brother, you must 
 lay hold of your uncle. If you will take the trouble 
 to manage an affair which needs great cleverness, 
 patience, and caution, you have enough work before 
 you to occupy your five years. " 
 
 "No, no," cried Philippe, "I must take the bull by 
 the horns at once. This Maxence maj- alter the in- 
 vestment of the property and put it in that woman's 
 name ; and then all would be lost." 
 
 " Monsieur Hochon is a good adviser, and sees clearly ; 
 consult him. You have your orders from the police ; 
 I have taken your place in the Orleans diligence for 
 half-past seven o'clock this evening. I suppose your 
 trunk is ready ; so, now come and dine. " 
 
280 The Two Brothers. 
 
 44 1 own nothing but what I have got on my back," 
 said Philippe, opening his horrible blue overcoat ; " but 
 I only need three things, which 30U must tell Girou- 
 deau, the uncle of Finot, to send me, — my sabre, nry 
 sword, and my pistols. " 
 
 44 You need more than that," said the lawyer, shud- 
 dering as he looked at his client. " You will receive a 
 quarterly stipend which will clothe you decently. " 
 
 u Bless me ! are you here, Godeschal?" cried Phil- 
 ippe, recognizing in Desroches' s head-clerk, as the}' 
 passed out, the brother of Mariette. 
 
 44 Yes, I have been with Monsieur Desroches for 
 the last two months. " 
 
 44 And he will sta} T with me, I hope, till he gets a 
 business of his own," said Desroches. 
 
 44 How is Mariette?" asked Philippe, moved at his 
 recollections. 
 
 44 She is getting ready for the opening of the new 
 theatre. " 
 
 44 It would cost her little trouble to get my sentence 
 remitted, " said Philippe. 44 However, as she chooses ! " 
 
 After a meagre dinner, given by Desroches who 
 boarded his head-clerk, the two lawyers put the polit- 
 ical convict in the diligence, and wished him good luck. 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 281 
 
 XIV. 
 
 On the second of December, All-Souls' day, Philippe 
 Briclau appeared before the commissary of police at 
 Issoudun, to have the date of his arrival recorded on 
 his papers ; and by that functionary's advice he went 
 to lodge in the rue l'Avenier. The news of the arrival 
 of an officer, banished on account of the late military 
 conspiracy, spread rapidly through the town, and 
 caused all the more excitement when it was known that 
 this officer was a brother of the painter who had been 
 falsely accused. Maxence Gilet, by that time entirely 
 recovered from his wound, had completed the difficult 
 operation of turning all Pere Rouget' s mortgages into 
 money, and putting the proceeds in one sum, on the 
 grand-livre. The loan of one hundred and fortv thou- 
 sand francs obtained by the old man on his landed 
 property had caused a great sensation, — for everything 
 is known in the provinces. Monsieur Hochon, in the 
 Bridau interest, was much put about b}' this disaster, 
 and questioned old Monsieur Heron, the notary at 
 Bourges, as to the object of it. 
 
 " The heirs of old Rouget, if old Rouget changes his 
 mind, ought to make me a votive offering," cried Mon- 
 sieur Heron. w If it had not been for me, the old fel- 
 low would have allowed the fifty thousand francs' income 
 to stand in the name of Maxence Gilet. I told Made- 
 moiselle Brazier that she ought to look to the will only, 
 and not run the risk of a suit for spoliation, seeing 
 
282 The Two Brothers. 
 
 what numerous proofs these transfers in ever}' direction 
 would give against them. To gain time, I advised 
 Maxence and his mistress to keep quiet, and let this 
 sudden change in the usual business habits of the old 
 man be forgotten." 
 
 "Protect the Bridaus, for the}' have nothing," said 
 Monsieur Hochon, who in addition to all other reasons, 
 could not forgive Gilet the terrors he had endured when 
 fearing the pillage of his house. 
 
 Maxence Gilet and Flore Brazier, now secure against 
 all attack, were very merry over the arrival of another 
 of old Rouge t's nephews. They knew they were able, 
 at the first signal of danger, to make the old man sign 
 a power of attorney under which the money in the 
 Funds could be transferred either to Max or Flore. 
 ]f the will leaving Flore the principal, should be re- 
 voked, an income of fifty thousand francs was a very 
 tolerable crumb of comfort, — more particularly after 
 squeezing from the real estate that mortgage of a hun- 
 dred and forty thousand. 
 
 The day after his arrival, Philippe called upon his 
 uncle about ten o'clock in the morning, anxious to pre- 
 sent himself in his dilapidated clothing. When the 
 convalescent of the Hopital du Midi, the prisoner of the 
 Luxembourg, entered the room, Flore Brazier felt a 
 shiver pass over her at the repulsive sight. Gilet him- 
 self was conscious of that peculiar disturbance both of 
 mind and bod}', by which Nature sometimes warns us 
 of a latent enmity, or a coming danger. If there was 
 something indescribably sinister in Philippe's counte- 
 nance, due to his recent misfortunes, the effect was 
 heightened by his clothes. His forlorn blue great-coat 
 was buttoned in military fashion to the throat, for pain- 
 
The Two Brothers. 283 
 
 ful reasons ; and yet it showed much that it pretended 
 to conceal. The bottom edges of the trousers, ragged 
 like those of an almshouse beggar, were the sign of ab- 
 ject povert}'. The boots left wet splashes on the floor, 
 as the mud oozed from fissures in the soles. The gray 
 hat, which the colonel held in his hand, was horribly 
 greasy round the rim. The malacca cane, from which 
 the polish had long disappeared, must have stood in all 
 the corners of all the cafes in Paris, and poked its worn- 
 out end into man}" a corruption. Above the velvet col- 
 lar, rubbed and worn till the frame showed through it, 
 rose a head like that which Frederick Lemaitre makes 
 up for the last act in "The Life of a Gambler," — 
 where the exhaustion of a man still in the prime of life 
 is betrayed by the metallic, brass}' skin, discolored as 
 if with verdigris. Such tints are seen on the faces of 
 debauched gamblers who spend their nights in play : 
 the e}es are sunken in a dusky circle, the lids are red- 
 dened rather than red, the brow is menacing from the 
 wreck and ruin it reveals. Philippe's cheeks, which 
 were sunken and wrinkled, showed signs of the illness 
 from which he had scarcety recovered. His head was 
 bald, except for a fringe of hair at the back which 
 ended at the ears. The pure blue of his brilliant eyes 
 had acquired the cold tones of polished steel. 
 
 "Good-morning, uncle," he said, in a hoarse voice. 
 "I am 3-our nephew, Philippe Bridau, — a specimen of 
 how the Bourbons treat a lieutenant-colonel, an old 
 soldier of the old arm}*, one who carried the Emperor's 
 orders at the battle of Montereau. If my coat were to 
 open, I should be put to shame in presence of Made- 
 moiselle. Well, it is the rule of the game ! We hoped 
 to begin it again ; we tried it, and we have failed ! I 
 
284 The Two Brothers. 
 
 am to reside in 3-our city by order -of the police, with 
 a full pa}' of sixty francs a month. So the inhabitants 
 need n't fear that I shall raise the price of provisions ! 
 I see 3*011 are in good and lovely company." 
 
 44 Ah ! you are nry nephew," said Jean- Jacques. 
 
 "Invite monsieur le colonel to breakfast with us," 
 said Flore. 
 
 44 No, I thank }*ou, madame," answered Philippe, 
 44 1 have breakfasted. Besides, I would cut off my 
 hand sooner than ask a bit of bread or a farthing from 
 nry uncle, after the treatment my mother and brother 
 received in this town. It did not seem proper, how- 
 ever, that I should settle here, in Issoudun, without 
 paying my respects to him from time to time. You can 
 do what you like," he added, offering the old man his 
 hand, into which Rouget put his own, which Philippe 
 shook, — 44 whatever you like. I shall have nothing to 
 say against it; provided the honor of the Bridaus is 
 untouched." 
 
 Gilet could look at the lieutenant-colonel as much as 
 he pleased, for Philippe pointedly avoided casting his 
 e}-es in his direction. Max, though the blood boiled in 
 his veins, was too well aware of the importance of be- 
 having with political prudence — which occasionally 
 resembles cowardice — to take fire like a young man; 
 he remained, therefore, perfectly calm and cold. 
 
 44 It wouldn't be right, monsieur," said Flore, 44 to 
 live on sixty francs a month under the nose of an uncle 
 who has forty thousand francs a year, and who has al- 
 ready behaved so kindly to Captain Gilet, his natural 
 relation, here present — " 
 
 4 'Yes, Philippe," cried the old man, "you must see 
 that ! " 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 285 
 
 On Flore's presentation, Philippe made a half-timid 
 bow to Max. 
 
 " Uncle, I have some pictures to return to you ; they 
 are now at Monsieur Hochon's. Will you be kind 
 enough to come over some day and identify them." 
 
 Saying these last words in a curt tone, lieutenant- 
 colonel Philippe Bridau departed. The tone of his visit 
 made, if possible, a deeper impression on Flore's mind, 
 and also on that of Max, than the shock the}' had felt 
 at the first sight of that horrible campaigner. As soon 
 as Philippe had slammed the door, with the violence of 
 a disinherited heir, Max and Flore hid behind the win- 
 dow-curtains to watch him as he crossed the road, to 
 the Hochons'. 
 
 " What a vagabond ! " exclaimed Flore, questioning 
 Max with a glance of her eye. 
 
 " Yes ; unfortunately there were men like him in the 
 armies of the Emperor ; I sent seven to the shades at 
 Cabrera," answered Gilet. 
 
 " I do hope, Max, that you won't pick a quarrel with 
 that fellow," said Mademoiselle Brazier. 
 
 " He smelt so of tobacco," complained the old man. 
 
 " He was smelling after your money-bags," said Flore, 
 in a peremptory tone. "My advice is that you don't 
 let him into the house again." 
 
 "I'd prefer not to," replied Rouget. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Gritte, entering the room where 
 the Hochon family were all assembled after breakfast, 
 " here is the Monsieur Bridau 3*011 were talking about." 
 
 Philippe made his entrance politeh', in the midst of 
 a dead silence caused by general curiosity. Madame 
 Hochon shuddered from head to foot as she beheld the 
 author of all Agathe's woes and the murderer of good 
 
286 The Two Brothers. 
 
 old Madame Descoings. Adolphine also felt a shock 
 of fear. Baruch and Francois looked at each other in 
 surprise. Old Hochon kept his self-possession, and 
 offered a seat to the son of Madame Bridau. 
 
 "I have come, monsieur," said Philippe, "to intro- 
 duce myself to 3011 ; I am forced to consider how I can 
 manage to live here, for five years, on sixty francs a 
 month." 
 
 u It can be done," said the octogenarian. 
 
 Philippe talked about things in general, with per- 
 fect proprietj'. He mentioned the journalist Lousteau, 
 nephew of the old lady, as a rara avis, and won her 
 good graces from the moment she heard him say that 
 the name of Lousteau would become celebrated. He 
 did not hesitate to admit his faults of conduct. To a 
 friendly admonition which Madame Hochon addressed 
 to him in a low voice, he replied that he had reflected 
 deeply while in prison, and could promise that in future 
 he would live another life. 
 
 On a hint from Philippe, Monsieur Hochon went out 
 with him when he took his leave. When the miser and 
 the soldier reached the boulevard Baron, a place where 
 no one could overhear them, the colonel turned to the 
 old man, — 
 
 " Monsieur," he said, " if }'OU will be guided by me, 
 we will never speak together of matters and things, or 
 people either, unless we are walking in the open country, 
 or in places where we cannot be overheard. Maitre 
 Desroches has fully explained to me the influence of the 
 gossip of a little town. Therefore I don't wish you 
 be suspected of advising me ; though Desroches hi 
 told me to ask for your advice, and I beg 30U not to bt 
 I'har}' of giving it. We have a powerful enemj* in 0111 
 
The Two Brothers. 287 
 
 front, and it won't do to neglect any precaution which 
 may help to defeat him. In the first place, therefore, 
 excuse me if I do not call upon 3-011 again. A little 
 coldness between us will clear 3*011 of all suspicion of 
 influencing 1113- conduct. When I want to consult you, 
 I will pass along the square at half-past nine, just as 
 you are coming out after breakfast. If you see me 
 cany m3 T cane on my shoulder, that will mean that we 
 must meet — accidentally — in some open space which 
 3'ou will point out to me." 
 
 ■■' I see 3-011 are a prudent man, bent on success," said 
 old Hochon. 
 
 "I shall succeed, monsieur. First of all, give me 
 the names of the officers of the old army now living in 
 Issoudun, who have not taken sides with Maxence 
 Gilet ; I wish to make their acquaintance." 
 
 "Well, there's a captain of the artillery of the 
 Guard, Monsieur Mignonnet, a man about forty years 
 of age, who was brought up at the Ecole Polyteehnique, 
 and lives in a quiet wa3\ He is a veiy honorable man, 
 and openly disapproves of Max, whose conduct he 
 considers unworthy of a true soldier." 
 
 " Good ! " remarked the lieutenant-colonel. 
 
 "There are not many soldiers here of that stripe," 
 resumed Monsieur Hochon ; " the 011I3- other that I 
 know is an old cavalry captain." 
 
 " That is m3* arm," said Philippe. " Was he in the 
 Guard?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Monsieur Hochon. " Carpentier was, 
 in 1810, sergeant-major in the dragoons ; then he rose 
 to be sub-lieutenant in the line, and subseqnenth r cap- 
 tain of cavalry.*' 
 
 " Giroudeau may know him," thought Philippe. 
 
288 The Two Brother*. 
 
 "This Monsieur Carpentier took the place in the 
 may-or's office which Gilet threw up ; he is a friend of 
 Monsieur Mignonnet." 
 
 " How can I earn my living here?" 
 
 "The}- are going, I think, to establish a mutual in- 
 surance agency in Issoudun, for the department of the 
 Cher ; you might get a place in it ; but the pay won't 
 be more than fifty- francs a month at the outside." 
 
 M That will be enough." 
 
 At the end of a week Philippe had a new suit of 
 clothes, — coat, waistcoat, and trousers, — of good blue 
 Elbeuf cloth, bought on credit, to be paid for at so 
 much a month ; also new boots, buckskin gloves, and a 
 hat. Giroudeau sent him some linen, with his weapons 
 and a letter for Carpentier, who had formerly served 
 under Giroudeau. The letter secured him Carpcntier's 
 good-will, and the latter presented him to his friend 
 Mignonnet as a man of great merit and the highest 
 character. Philippe won the admiration of these worthy 
 officers by confiding to them a few facts about the late 
 conspiracy 7 , which was, as everybody- knows, the last 
 attempt of the old army against the Bourbons ; for t\w 
 affair of the sergeants at La Rochelle belongs to another 
 order of ideas. 
 
 Warned by the fate of the conspiracy of the 19th of 
 Angust, 1820, and of those of Berton and Caron, the 
 soldiers of the old army resigned themselves, after their 
 failure in 1822, to wait events. This last conspiracy, 
 which grew out of that of the 19th of August, was really a 
 continuation of the latter, carried on by a better element. 
 Like its predecessor, it was absolutely unknown to the 
 royal government. Betrayed once more, the conspira- 
 tors had the wit to reduce their vast enterprise to the 
 
The Two Brothers. 289 
 
 pun}' proportions of a barrack plot. This conspiracy, 
 in which several regiments of cavaliy, infantry, and 
 artiller}' were concerned, had its centre in the north of 
 France. The strong places along the frontier were to 
 be captured at a blow. If success had followed, the 
 treaties of 1815 would have been broken by a federa- 
 tion with Belgium, which, by a military compact made 
 among the soldiers, was to withdraw from the Holy 
 Alliance. Two thrones would have been plunged in 
 a moment into the vortex of this sudden cyclone. In- 
 stead of this formidable scheme — concerted b} T strong 
 minds and supported by personages of high rank — 
 being carried out, one small part of it, and that only, 
 was discovered and brought before the Court of Peers. 
 Philippe Bridau consented to screen the leaders, who 
 retired the moment the plot was discovered (either by 
 treachery or accident), and from their seats in both 
 Chambers lent their co-operation to the inquiry only 
 to work for the ultimate success of their purpose at the 
 heart of the government. 
 
 To recount this scheme, which, since 1830, the Liber- 
 als have openly confessed in all its ramifications, would 
 trench upon the domain of history and involve too long 
 a digression. This glimpse of it is enough to show the 
 double part which Philippe Bridau undertook to play. 
 The former staff-officer of the Emperor was to lead a 
 movement in Paris solelj- for the purpose of masking 
 the real conspiracy and occupying the mind of the gov- 
 ernment at its centre, while the great struggle should 
 burst forth at the north. When the latter miscarried 
 before discovery, Philippe was ordered to break all 
 links connecting the two plots, and to allow the secrets 
 of the secondary plot only to become known. For this 
 
 19 
 
290 The Two Brothers. 
 
 purpose, his abject misery, to which his state of health 
 and his clothing bore witness, was amply sufficient to 
 undervalue the character of the conspiracy and reduce 
 its proportions in the eyes of the authorities. The role 
 was well suited to the precarious position of the un- 
 principled gambler. Feeling himself astride of both 
 parties, the crafty Philippe played the saint to the 
 royal government, all the while retaining the good 
 opinion of the men in high places who were of the 
 other part}*, — determined to cast in his lot at a later 
 day with whichever side he might then find most to his 
 advantage. 
 
 These revelations as to the vast bearings of the real 
 conspiracy made Philippe a man of great distinction 
 in the eyes of Carpentier and Mignonnet, to whom his 
 self-devotion seemed a state-craft worth}' of the palmy 
 days of the Convention. In a short time the tricky 
 Bonapartist was seen to be on friendly terms with the 
 two officers, and the consideration the}' enjoyed in the 
 town was, of course, shared by him. He soon ob- 
 tained, through their recommendation, the situation in 
 the insurance office that old Hochon had suggested, 
 which required only three hours of his day. Mignonnet 
 and Carpentier put him up at their club, where his good 
 manners and bearing, in keeping with the high opinion 
 which the two officers expressed about him, won him a 
 respect often given to external appearances that are 
 only deceitful. 
 
 Philippe, whose conduct was carefully considered 
 and planned, had indeed made many reflections while 
 in prison as to the inconveniences of leading a de- 
 bauched life. He did not need Desroches's lecture 
 to understand the necessity of conciliating the peop 
 
 " 
 
The Two Brothers. 291 
 
 at Tssoudun by decent, sober, and respectable conduct. 
 Delighted to attract Max's ridicule Iry behaving with 
 the propriety of a Mignonnet, he went further, and 
 endeavored to lull Gilet's suspicions by deceiving him 
 as to his real character. He was bent on being taken 
 for a fool by appearing generous and disinterested ; 
 all the while drawing a net around his adversary, and 
 keeping his eye on his uncle's property. His mother 
 and brother, on the contrary, who were really dis- 
 interested, generous and lofty, had been accused of 
 greed because the}' had acted with straightforward 
 simplicity. Philippe's covetousness was fully roused 
 b} T Monsieur Hochon, who gave him all the details 
 of his uncle's property. In the first secret conversa- 
 tion which he held with the octogenarian, they agreed 
 that Philippe must not awaken Max's suspicions ; for 
 the game would be lost if Flore and Max were to carry 
 off their victim, though no farther than Bourges. 
 
 Once a week the colonel dined with Mignonnet ; 
 another day with Carpentier ; and every Thursday with 
 Monsieur Hochon. At the end of three weeks he 
 received other invitations for the remaining days, so 
 that he had little more than his breakfast to provide. 
 He never spoke of his uncle, nor of the Iiabouilleuse, 
 nor of Gilet, unless it were in connection with his 
 mother and his brother's stay in Issoudun. The three 
 officers — the only soldiers in the town who were dec- 
 orated, and among whom Philippe had the advantage 
 of the rosette, which in the e3*es of all provincials gave 
 him a marked superiority — took a habit of walking 
 together every day before dinner, keeping, as the say- 
 ing is, to themselves. This reserve and tranquillity of 
 demeanor had an excellent effect in Issoudun. All 
 
292 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Max's adherents thought Philippe a sabre ur, — an ex- 
 pression applied by soldiers to the commonest sort of 
 courage in their superior officers, while den}ing that 
 the} T possess the requisite qualities of a commander. 
 
 44 He is a very honorable man," said Goddet the 
 surgeon, to Max. 
 
 44 Bah!" replied Gilet, "his behavior before the 
 Court of Peers proves him to have been either a 
 dupe or a sp} T ; he is, as you say, ninn}- enough to 
 have been duped by the great plaj-ers." 
 
 After obtaining his situation, Philippe, who was well 
 informed as to the gossip of the town, wished to con- 
 ceal certain circumstances of his present life as much 
 as possible from the knowledge of the inhabitants ; he 
 therefore went to live in a house at the farther end of 
 the faubourg Saint-Paterne, to which was attached a 
 large garden. Here he was able in the utmost secrecy 
 to fence with Carpentier, who had been a fencing- 
 master in the infantr\ T before entering the cavalry. 
 Philippe soon recovered his earl}' dexterity, and learned 
 other and new secrets from Carpentier, which con- 
 vinced him that he need not fear the prowess of any 
 adversar}-. This done, he began openly to practise 
 with pistols, with Mignonnet and Carpentier, declaring 
 it was for amusement, but really intending to make 
 Max believe that, in case of a duel, he should rely upon 
 that weapon. Whenever Philippe met Gilet he waited 
 for him to bow first, and answered the salutation by 
 touching the brim of his hat cavalierly, as an officer 
 acknowledges the salute of a private. Maxence Gilet 
 gave no sign of impatience or displeasure ; he never 
 uttered a single word about Bridau at the Cognettes' 
 where he still gave suppers ; although, since Fario's 
 
The Two Brothers. 293 
 
 attack, the pranks of the Order of Idleness were tem- 
 porarily suspended. 
 
 After a while, however, the contempt shown b}- Lieu- 
 tenant-colonel Bridau for the former cavalry captain, 
 Gilet, was a settled fact, which certain Knights of Idle- 
 ness, who were less bound to Max than Francois, Baruch, 
 and three or four others, discussed among themselves. 
 They were much surprised to see the violent and fiery 
 Max behave with such discretion. No one in Issondun, 
 not even Potel or Renard, dared broach so delicate a 
 subject with him. Potel, somewhat disturbed by this 
 open misunderstanding between two heroes of the Im- 
 perial Guard, suggested that Max might be laying a net 
 for the colonel ; he asserted that some new scheme 
 might be looked for from a man who had got rid of the 
 mother and one brother by making use of Fario's attack 
 upon him, the particulars of which were now no longer 
 a nryster}*. Monsieur Hochon had taken care to reveal 
 the truth of Max's atrocious accusation to the best peo- 
 ple of the town. Thus it happened that in talking over 
 the situation of the lieutenant-colonel in relation to 
 Max, and in trying to guess what might spring from 
 their antagonism, the whole town regarded the two 
 men, from the start, as adversaries. 
 
 Philippe, who carefully investigated all the circum- 
 stances of his brother's arrest and the antecedents of 
 Gilet and the Rabouilleuse, was finally brought into 
 rather close relations with Fario, who lived near him. 
 After studying the Spaniard, Philippe thought he might 
 trust a man of that quality. The two found their hatred 
 so firm a bond of union, that Fario put himself at 
 Philippe's disposal, and related all that he knew about 
 the Knights of Idleness. Philippe promised, in case he 
 
294 The Two Brothers. 
 
 succeeded in obtaining over his uncle the power now 
 exercised hy Gilet, to indemnify Fario for his losses ; 
 this bait made the Spaniard his henchman. Maxence 
 was now face to face with a dangerous foe ; he had, as 
 the3 T say in those parts, some one to handle. Roused 
 by much gossip and various rumors, the town of Issou- 
 dun expected a mortal combat between the two men, 
 who, we must remark, mutually despised each other. 
 
 One morning, towards the end of November, Philippe 
 met Monsieur Hochon about twelve o'clock, in the long 
 avenue of Frapesle, and said to him : — 
 
 "I have discovered that your grandsons Baruch and 
 Francois are the intimate friends of Maxence Gilet. 
 The rascals are mixed up in all the pranks that are 
 played about this town at night. It was through them 
 that Maxence knew what was said in your house when 
 my mother and brother were staying there." 
 
 •* How did you get proof of such a monstrous thing? " 
 
 " I overheard their conversation one night as they 
 were leaving a drinking-shop. Your grandsons both 
 owe Max more than three thousand francs. The scoun- 
 drel told the lads to try and find out our intentions ; he 
 reminded them that you had once thought of getting 
 round nry uncle by priestcraft, and declared that nobody 
 but 3'ou could guide me ; for he thinks, fortunately, 
 that I am nothing more than a sabreur." 
 
 t* My grandsons ! is it possible? " 
 
 " Watch them," said Philippe. " You will see them 
 coming home along the place Saint- Jean, at two or three 
 o'clock in the morning, as tipsy as champagne-corks, 
 and in compan\ T with Gilet — " 
 
 " That's why the scamps keep so sober at home! " 
 cried Monsieur Hochon. 
 
The Two Brothers. 295 
 
 "Fario has told me all about their nocturnal proceed- 
 ings," resumed Philippe ; lh without him, I should never 
 have suspected them. My uncle is held down under an 
 absolute thraldom, if I ma}' judge by certain things 
 which the Spaniard has heard Max say to your boys. 
 I suspect Max and the Rabouilleuse of a scheme to make 
 sure of the fifty thousand francs' income from the Funds, 
 and then, after pulling that feather from their pigeon's 
 wing, to run awa}*, I don't know where, and get mar- 
 ried. It is high time to know what is going on under 
 my uncle's roof, but I don't see how to set about it." 
 
 " I will think of it," said the old man. 
 
 They separated, for several persons were now 
 approaching. 
 
 Never, at any time in his life, did Jean-Jacques 
 Rouget suffer as he had done since the first visit of his 
 nephew Philippe. Flore was terrified by the presenti- 
 ment of some evil that threatened Max. Weary of her 
 master, and fearing that he might live to be very old, 
 since he was able to bear up under their criminal prac- 
 tices, she formed the very simple plan of leaving Issou- 
 dun and being married to Maxence in Paris, after 
 obtaining from Jean-Jacques the transfer of the income 
 in the Funds. The old bachelor, guided, not by any 
 justice to his famil}-, nor by personal avarice, but solely 
 by his passion, steadity refused to make the transfer, 
 on the ground that Flore was to be his sole heir. The 
 unhappy creature knew to what extent Flore loved Max, 
 and he believed he would be abandoned the moment she 
 was made rich enough to marry. When Flore, after 
 employing the tenderest cajoleries, was unable to suc- 
 ceed, she tried rigor ; she no longer spoke to her mas- 
 ter ; Vedie was sent to wait upon him, and found him 
 
296 The Two Brothers. 
 
 in the morning with his eyes swollen and red with weep- 
 ing. For a week or more, poor Rouget had breakfasted 
 alone, and Heaven knows on what food ! 
 
 The day after Philippe's conversation with Monsieur 
 Hochon, he determined to pay a second visit to his 
 uncle, whom he found much changed. Flore sta3*ed 
 beside the old man, speaking tenderly and looking at 
 him with much affection ; she played the corned}' so 
 well that Philippe guessed some immediate danger, 
 merely from the solicitude thus displayed in his pres- 
 ence. Gilet, whose polic} 7 it was to avoid all collision 
 with Philippe, did not appear. After watching his uncle 
 and Flore for a time with a discerning eye, the colonel 
 judged that the time had come to strike his grand blow. 
 
 " Adieu, m}' dear uncle," he said, rising as if to 
 leave the house. 
 
 "Oh! don't go yet," cried the old man, who was 
 comforted by Flore's false tenderness. " Dine with us, 
 Philippe." 
 
 " Yes, if you will come and take a walk with me." 
 
 "Monsieur is very feeble," interposed Mademoiselle 
 Brazier ; " just now he was unwilling even to go out in 
 the carriage," she added, turning upon the old man the 
 fixed look with which keepers quell a maniac. 
 
 Philippe took Flore by the arm, compelling her to 
 look at him, and looking at her in return as fixedly as 
 she had just looked at her victim. 
 
 "Tell me, mademoiselle," he said, " is it a fact that 
 my uncle is not free to take a walk with me ? " 
 
 '* Why, 3 T es he is, monsieur," replied Flore, who was 
 unable to make any other answer. 
 
 "Very well. Come, uncle. Mademoiselle, give him 
 his hat and cane." 
 
The Two Brothers. 297 
 
 •* But — he never goes out without me. Do you, 
 monsieur? " 
 
 44 Yes, Philippe, yes ; I always want her — " 
 
 44 It would be better to take the carriage,'* said 
 Flore. 
 
 44 Yes, let us take the carriage," cried the old man, 
 in his anxiety to make his two tyrants agree. 
 
 4i Uncle, you will come with me, alone, and on foot, 
 or I shall never return here ; I shall know that the town 
 of Issoudun tells the truth, when it declares you are 
 under the dominion of Mademoiselle Flore Brazier. 
 That my uncle should love you, is all veiy well," he 
 resumed, holding Flore with a fixed eye; 44 that 30U 
 should not love my uncle is also on the cards ; but 
 when it comes to 3*our making him unhappy — halt ! 
 If people want to get hold of an inheritance, they must 
 earn it. Are 30U coming, uncle ? " 
 
 Philippe saw the eyes of the poor imbecile roving 
 from himself to Flore, in painful hesitation. 
 
 44 Ha! that's how it is, is it?" resumed the lieu- 
 tenant-colonel. 44 Well, adieu, uncle. Mademoiselle, 
 I kiss your hands." 
 
 He turned quickly when he reached the door, and 
 caught Flore in the act of making a menacing gesture 
 at his uncle. 
 
 44 Uncle," he said, 44 if you wish to go with me, I 
 will meet 3-011 at 3 r our door in ten minutes : I am now 
 going to see Monsieur Hochon. If 30U and I do not 
 take that walk, I shall take upon myself to make some 
 others walk." 
 
 So saying, he went awa3~, and crossed the place 
 Saint-Jean to the Hochons. 
 
 Every one can imagine the scenes which the rcvela- 
 
298 The Two Brothers. 
 
 tions made by Philippe to Monsieur Hochon had brougnt 
 about in that family. At nine o'clock, old Monsieur 
 Heron, the notary, presented himself with a bundle of 
 papers, and found a fire in the hall which the old miser, 
 contrary to all his habits, had ordered to be lighted. 
 Madame Hochon, already dressed at this unusual hour, 
 was sitting in her armchair at the corner of the fire- 
 place. The two grandsons, warned the night before 
 by Adolphine that a storm was gathering about their 
 heads, had been ordered to stay in the house. Sum- 
 moned now by Gritte, they were alarmed at the formal 
 preparations of their grandparents, whose coldness and 
 anger they had been made to feel in the air for the last 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 ''Don't rise for them," said their grandfather to 
 Monsieur Heron ; ' k you see before you two miscreants, 
 unworthy of pardon." 
 
 "Oh, grandpapa ! " said Francois. 
 
 " Be silent ! " said the old man sternly. " I know of 
 your nocturnal life and your intimacy" with Monsieur 
 Maxence Gilet. But 3*011 will meet him no more at 
 Mere Cognette's at one in the morning ; for you will 
 not leave this house, either of you, until you go to your 
 respective destinations. Ha! it was you who ruined 
 Fario, was it? you, who have narrowly escaped the 
 police-courts — Hold your tongue ! " he said, seeing that 
 Baruch was about to speak. " You both owe money to 
 Monsieur Maxence Gilet ; who, for six years, has paid for 
 your debauchery. Listen, both of you, to my guardian- 
 ship accounts ; after that, I shall have more to say. 
 You will see, after these papers are read, whether you 
 can still trifle with me, — still trifle with family laws by 
 betraying the secrets of this house, and reporting to a 
 
The Two Brothers. 299 
 
 Monsieur Maxence Gilet what is said and what is done 
 here. For three thousand francs, 3*011 became spies ; for 
 ten thousand, you would, no doubt, become assassins. 
 You did almost kill Madame Bridau ; for Monsieur Gilet 
 knew very well it was Fario who stabbed him when he 
 threw the crime upon my guest, Monsieur Joseph 
 Bridau. If that jail-bird did so wicked an act, it was 
 because 3'ou told him what Madame Bridau meant to do. 
 You, my grandsons, the spies of such a man ! You, 
 house-breakers and marauders ! Don't you know that 
 your worthy leader killed a poor 3*oung woman, in 1806 ? 
 I will not have assassins and thieves in my family. 
 Pack 3"our things ; 3011 shall go hang elsewhere ! " 
 
 The two young men turned white and stiff as plaster 
 casts. 
 
 " Read on, Monsieur Heron," said Hochon. 
 
 The old notary read the guardianship accounts ; from 
 which it appeared that the net fortune of the two 
 Borniche children amounted to sevent3* thousand francs, 
 a sum derived from the dowty of their mother : but 
 Monsieur Hochon had lent his daughter various large 
 sums, and was now, as creditor, the owner of a part of 
 the property of his Borniche grandchildren. The por- 
 tion coming to Baruch amounted to onty twenty^ thou- 
 sand francs. 
 
 4 'Now 3*011 are rich," said the old man, "take 3-our 
 money, and go. I remain master of 1113' own property 
 and that of Madame Hochon, who in this matter shares 
 all my intentions, and I shall give it to whom I choose ; 
 namely, our dear Adolphine. Yes, we can marry her 
 if we please to the son of a peer of France, for she will 
 be an heiress." 
 
 " A noble fortune ! " said Monsieur Heron. 
 
300 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "Monsieur Maxence Gilet will make up this loss to 
 you," said Madame Hochon. 
 
 44 Let m} T hard-saved money go to a scapegrace like 
 you? no, indeed ! " cried Monsieur Hochon. 
 
 44 Forgive me ! " stammered Baruch. 
 
 44 4 Forgive, and I won't do it again,' " sneered the old 
 man, imitating a child's voice. 44 If I were to forgive 
 you, and let you out of this house, you would go and 
 tell Monsieur Maxence what has happened, and wain 
 him to be on his guard. No, no, my little men. I 
 shall keep my eye on you, and I have means of know- 
 ing what you do. As 30U behave, so shall I behave to 
 you. It will be by a long course of good conduct, not 
 that of a day or a month, but of } T ears, that I shall 
 judge 3'ou. I am strong on m} T legs, my eyes are good, 
 my health is sound ; I hope to live long enough to see 
 what road you take. Your first move will be to Paris, 
 where you will study banking under Messieurs Mon- 
 genod and Sons. Ill-luck to 30U if you don't walk 
 straight; you will be watched. Your property is in 
 the hand of Messieurs Mongenod ; here is a cheque 
 for the amount. Now then, release me as guardian, 
 and sign the accounts, and also this receipt," he added, 
 taking the papers from Monsieur Heron and handing 
 them to Baruch. 
 
 44 As for } t ou, Francois Hochon, 3-011 owe me mone3' 
 instead of having an3 r to receive," said the old man, 
 looking at his other grandson. 44 Monsieur Heron, read 
 his account ; it is all clear — perfectly clear." 
 
 The reading was done in the midst of perfect stillness. 
 
 44 You will have six hundred francs a 3 r ear, and with 
 that 3'ou will go to Poitiers and study law," said the 
 grandfather, when the notaiy had finished. 44 I had 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 301 
 
 fizie life in prospect for 3-011 ; but now, 3 T ou must earn 
 3 T our living as a lawyer. Ah ! ni3 T young rascals, you 
 have deceived me for six years ; 3-011 now know it has 
 taken me but one hour to get even with you : I have 
 seven-leagued boots." 
 
 Just as old Monsieur Heron was preparing to leave 
 with the signed papers, Gritte announced Colonel 
 Bridau. Madame Hochon left the room, taking her 
 grandsons with her, that she might, as old Hochon said, 
 confess them privately and find out what effect this 
 scene had produced upon them. 
 
 Philippe and the old man stood in the embrasure of 
 a window and spoke in low tones. 
 
 "I have been reflecting on the state of 3-our affairs 
 over there," said Monsieur Hochon pointing to the 
 Rouget house. M I have just had a talk with Monsieur 
 Heron. The security for the fifty thousand francs a 
 3-ear from the property in the Funds cannot be sold 
 unless 1)3- the owner himself or some one with a pow-er 
 of attorney from him. Now, since your arrival here, 
 your uncle has not signed any such power before an3 T 
 notary ; and, as he has not left Issoudun, he can't have 
 signed one elsewhere. If he attempts to give a power 
 of attorney here, we shall know it instantly ; if he goes 
 away- to give one, we shall also know it, for it will have 
 to be registered, and that excellent Heron has means of 
 finding it out. Therefore, if old Rouget leaves Issou- 
 dun, have him followed, learn where he goes, and we 
 will find a wa3 T to discover what he does." 
 
 "The power of attorn e3* has not been given," said 
 Philippe ; " the3' are trying to get it ; but — they — will 
 — not — sue — ceed — " added the vagabond, whose 
 eye just then caught sight of his uncle on the steps of 
 
302 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the opposite house : he pointed him out to Monsieur 
 Hochon and related succinctly the particulars, at once 
 so petty and so important, of his visit. 
 
 " Maxence is afraid of me, but he can't evade me. 
 Mignonnet says that all the officers of the old army who 
 are in Issouclun give a yearly banquet on the anniver- 
 sary of the Emperor's coronation ; so Maxence Gilet 
 and I are sure to meet in a few days." 
 
 " If he gets a power of attornej* by the morning of 
 the first of December," said Hochon, "he might take 
 the mail-post for Paris, and give up the banquet." 
 
 " Very good. The first thing is, then, to get posses- 
 sion of my uncle ; I 've an eye that cows a fool," said 
 Philippe, giving Monsieur Hochon an atrocious glance 
 that made the old man tremble. 
 
 " If they let him walk with you, Maxence must be- 
 lieve he has found some means to win the game," re- 
 marked the old miser. 
 
 " Oh! Fario is on the watch," said Philippe, "and 
 he is not alone. That Spaniard has discovered one of 
 my old soldiers in the neighborhood of Vatan, a man I 
 once did some service to. Without any one's suspect- 
 ing it, Benjamin Bourdet is under Fario's orders, who 
 has lent him a horse to get about with." 
 
 " If you kill that monster who has corrupted 
 my grandsons, I shall sa}' you have done a good 
 deed." 
 
 "Thanks to me, the town of Issoudun now knows 
 what Monsieur Maxence Gilet has been doing at night 
 for the last six years," replied Philippe; "and the 
 cackle, as you call it here, is now started on him. Mor- 
 ally his da}' is over." 
 
 The moment Philippe left his uncle's house Flore 
 
The Two Brothers. 303 
 
 went to Max's room to tell him every particular of the 
 nephew's bold visit. 
 
 " What 's to be done?" she asked. 
 
 "Before trying the last means, — which will be to 
 fight that big reprobate," replied Maxence, — " we must 
 play double or quits, and try our grand stroke. Let 
 the old idiot go with his nephew." 
 
 tk But that big brute won't mince matters," remon- 
 strated Flore ; " he '11 call things b}' their right names." 
 
 " Listen to me," said Maxence in a harsh voice. " Do 
 3'ou think I 've not kept my ears open, and reflected 
 about how we stand? Send to Pere Cognette for a 
 horse and a char-a-banc, and say we want them in- 
 stantly : they must be here in five minutes. Pack all 
 3 r our belongings, take Vedie, and go to Vatan. Settle 
 yourself there as if you meant to stay ; carry off the 
 twenty thousand francs in gold which the old fellow 
 has got in his drawer. If I bring him to you at Vatan, 
 you are to refuse to come back here unless he signs the 
 power of attorne} 7 . As soon as we get it I '11 slip off 
 to Paris, while you are returning to Issoudun. When 
 Jean-Jacques gets back from his walk and finds 3011 
 gone, he '11 go beside himself, and want to follow you. 
 Well ! when he does, I '11 give him a talking to." 
 
304 The Two Brothers. 
 
 XV. 
 
 While the foregoing plot was progressing, Philippe 
 was walking arm in arm with his uncle along the boule- 
 vard Baron. 
 
 " The two great tacticians are coming to close quar- 
 ters at last," thought Monsieur Hochon as he watched 
 the colonel marching off with his uncle ; "lam curious 
 to see the end of the game, and what becomes of the 
 stake of ninety thousand francs a year." 
 
 44 My dear uncle," said Philippe, whose phraseology 
 had a flavor of his affinities in Paris, ki you love this 
 girl, and yon are devilishly right. She is damnably hand- 
 some ! Instead of billing and cooing she makes you 
 trot like a valet ; well, that 's all simple enough ; but 
 she wants to see 3-011 six feet underground, so that she 
 ma}' marry Max, whom she adores." 
 
 44 I know that, Philippe, but I love her all the same." 
 
 '* Well, I have sworn by the soul of m}- mother, who 
 is yon? own sister," continued Philippe, 4i to make your 
 Rabouilleuse as supple as my glove, and the same as 
 she was before that scoundrel, who is unworthy to have 
 served in the Imperial Guard, ever came to quarter him- 
 self in 3 our house." 
 
 44 Ah ! if you could do that ! — " said the old man. 
 
 44 It is very easy," answered Philippe, cutting his un- 
 cle short. 44 I'll kill Max as I would a dog; but — 
 on one condition," added the old campaigner. 
 
The Two Brothers. 305 
 
 " What is that? " said Ronget, looking at his nephew 
 in a stupid way. 
 
 " Don't sign that power of attorney which they want 
 of you before the third of December; put them off till 
 then. Your torturers only want it to enable them to sell 
 the fifty thousand a year you have in the Funds, so that 
 they may run off" to Paris and pay for their wedding 
 festivities out of your millions." 
 
 41 1 am afraid so," replied Rouget. 
 
 44 Well, whatever they ma}- say or do to 3 r ou, put off 
 giving that power of attorney until next week." 
 
 i l Yes ; but when Flore talks to me she stirs my very 
 soul, till I don't know what I do. I give you my word, 
 when she looks at me in a certain way, her blue eyes 
 seem like paradise, and I am no longer master of my- 
 self, — especially when for some days she had been 
 harsh to me." 
 
 " Well, whether she is sweet or sour, don't do more 
 than promise to sign the paper, and let me know the 
 night before you are going to do it. That will answer. 
 Maxence shall not be your proxy unless he first kills 
 me. If I kill him, }-ou must agree to take me in his 
 place, and I '11 undertake to break in that handsome girl 
 and keep her at your beck and call. Yes, Flore shall 
 love you, and if she doesn't satisfy you — thunder! 
 I '11 thrash her." 
 
 "Oh! I never could allow that. A blow struck at 
 Flore would break nry heart." 
 
 " But it is the only way to govern women and horses. 
 A man makes himself feared, or loved, or respected. 
 Now that is what I wanted to whisper in your ear — 
 Good-morning, gentlemen," he said to Mignonnet and 
 Carpentier, who came up at the moment ; "lam taking 
 
 20 
 
306 The Two Brothers. 
 
 my uncle for a walk, as } T ou see, and trying to improve 
 him ; for we are in an age when children are obliged 
 to educate their grandparents." 
 
 They all bowed to each other. 
 
 14 You behold in my dear uncle the effects of an un- 
 happy passion. Those two want to strip him of his 
 fortune and leave him in the lurch — you know to whom 
 I refer? He sees the plot; but he has n't the courage 
 to give up his sugar-plum for a few daj-s so as to 
 baffle it." 
 
 Philippe briefly explained his uncle's position. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he remarked, in conclusion, ' k you see 
 there are no two ways of saving him : either Colonel 
 Bridau must kill Captain Gilet, or Captain Gilet must 
 kill Colonel Bridau. We celebrate the Emperor's coro- 
 nation on the day after to-morrow ; I rely upon you to 
 arrange the seats at the banquet so that I shall sit 
 opposite to Gilet. You will do me the honor, I hope, 
 of being nvy seconds." 
 
 " We will appoint you to preside, and sit ourselves 
 on either side of you. Max, as vice-president, will of 
 course sit opposite," said Mignonnet. 
 
 u Oh ! the scoundrel will have Potel and Renard with 
 him," said Carpentier. " In spite of all that Issoudun 
 now knows and says of his midnight maraudings, those 
 two worthy officers, who have already been his seconds, 
 remain faithful to him." 
 
 " You see how it all maps out, uncle," said Philippe. 
 ''Therefore, sign no paper before the third of Decem- 
 ber ; the next day 30U shall be free, happy, and beloved 
 by Flore, without having to coax for it." 
 
 "You don't know him, Philippe," said the terrified 
 old man. " Maxence has killed nine men in duels." 
 
The, Two Brothers. 307 
 
 " Yes ; but ninety thousand francs a year did n't 
 depend on it," answered Philippe. 
 
 " A bad conscience shakes the hand," remarked 
 Mignonnet sententiously. 
 
 "In a few days from now," resumed Philippe, "you 
 and the Rabouilleuse will be living together as sweet as 
 hone}*, — that is, after she gets through mourning. At 
 first she'll twist like a worm, and yelp, and weep; 
 but never mind, let the water run ! " 
 
 The two soldiers approved of Philippe's arguments, 
 and tried to hearten up old Rouget, with whom they 
 walked about for nearly two hours. At last Philippe 
 took his uncle home, saying as they parted : — 
 
 "Don't take any steps without me. I know women. 
 I have paid for one, who cost me far more than Flore 
 can ever cost you. But she taught me how to behave 
 to the fair sex for the rest of my days. Women are 
 bad children ; the\ T are inferior animals to men ; we 
 must make them fear us ; the worst condition in the 
 world is to be governed 03* such brutes." 
 
 It was about half-past two in the afternoon when 
 the old man got home. Kouski opened the door in 
 tears, — that is, by Max's orders, he gave signs of 
 weeping. 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked Jean- Jacques. 
 
 " Oh ! Monsieur, Madame has gone away, and taken 
 Vedie with her ! " 
 
 " Gone — a — way ! " said the old man in a strangled 
 voice. 
 
 The blow was so violent that Rouget sat down on 
 the stairs, unable to stand. A moment after, he rose, 
 looked about the hall, into the kitchen, went up to his 
 own room, searched all the chambers, and returned to 
 
308 The Two Brothers. 
 
 the salon, where he threw himself into a chair, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Where is she?" he sobbed. "Oh! where is she? 
 where is Max ? " 
 
 "I don't know," answered Kouski. "The captain 
 went out without telling me." 
 
 Gilet thought it politic to be seen sauntering about 
 the town. By leaving the old man alone with his 
 despair, he knew he should make him feel his deser- 
 tion the more keenly, and reduce him to docilit}\ To 
 keep Philippe from assisting his uncle at this crisis, 
 he had given Kouski strict orders not to open the door 
 to any one. Flore away, the miserable old man grew 
 frantic, and the situation of things approached a crisis. 
 During his walk through the town, Maxence Gilet was 
 avoided by many persons who a day or two earlier 
 would have hastened to shake hands with him. A 
 general reaction had set in against him. The deeds 
 of the Knights of Idleness were ringing on every tongue. 
 The tale of Joseph Bridau's arrest, now cleared up, 
 disgraced Max in the e3'es of all ; and his life and con- 
 duct received in one day their just award. Gilet met 
 Captain Potel, who was looking for him, and seemed 
 almost beside himself. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, Potel?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, the Imperial Guard is being black- 
 guarded all over the town ! These civilians are 
 crying you down ! and it goes to the bottom of my 
 heart." 
 
 "What are they complaining of?" asked Max. 
 
 "Of what you do at night." 
 
 "As if we couldn't amuse ourselves a little!" 
 
 "But that isn't all," said Potel. 
 
The Two Brothers. 309 
 
 Potel belonged to the same class as the officer who 
 replied to the burgomasters : " Eh ! your town will be 
 paid for, if we do burn it ! " So he was very little 
 troubled about the deeds of the Order of Idleness. 
 
 ' ' What more ? " inquired Gilet. 
 
 " The Guard is against the Guard. It is that that 
 breaks my heart. Bridau has set all these bourgeois 
 on you. The Guard against the Guard ! no, it ought 
 not to be ! You can't back down, Max ; you must 
 meet Bridau. I had a great mind to pick a quarrel 
 with the low scoundrel myself and send him to the 
 shades ; I wish I had, and then the bourgeois would n't 
 have seen the spectacle of the Guard against the Guard. 
 In war times, I don't say anything against it. Two 
 heroes of the Guard may quarrel, and fight, — but at 
 least there are no civilians to look on and sneer. No, 
 I say that big villain never served in the Guard. A 
 guardsman would never behave as he does to another 
 guardsman, under the verj' eyes of the bourgeois ; 
 impossible ! Ah ! it 's all wrong ; the Guard is dis- 
 graced — and here, at Issoudun ! where it was once 
 so honored." 
 
 " Come, Potel, don't worry yourself," answered 
 Max ; " even if you do not see me at the banquet — " 
 
 "What! do you mean that you won't be there the 
 day after to-morrow?" cried Potel, interrupting his 
 friend. "Do you wish to be called a coward? and have 
 it said 3'ou are running away from Bridau ? No, no ! 
 The unmounted grenadiers of the Guard can not draw 
 back before the dragoons of the Guard. Arrange your 
 business in some other waj* and be there ! " 
 
 " One more to send to the shades ! " said Max. 
 " Well, I think I can manage my business so as to get 
 
310 The Two Brothers. 
 
 there — For," he thought to himself, "that power of 
 attorney ought not to be in my name ; as old Heron 
 says, it would look too much like theft." 
 
 This lion, tangled in the meshes Philippe Bridau was 
 weaving for him, muttered between his teeth as he went 
 along ; he avoided the looks of those he met and re- 
 turned home by the boulevard Vilatte, still talking to 
 himself. 
 
 "I will have that money before I fight," he said. 
 " If I die, it shall not go to Philippe. I must put it in 
 Flore's name. She will follow my instructions, and go 
 straight to Paris. Once there, she can many, if she 
 chooses, the son of some marshal of France who has 
 been sent to the right-about. I '11 have that power of 
 attorney made in Baruch's name, and he '11 transfer the 
 property by my order." 
 
 Max, to do him justice, was never more cool and 
 calm in appearance than when his blood and his ideas 
 were boiling. No man ever united in a higher degree 
 the qualities which make a great general. If his career 
 had not been cut short by his captivity at Cabrera, the 
 Emperor would certainly have found him one of those 
 men who are necessary to the success of vast enter- 
 prises. When he entered the room where the hapless 
 victim of all these comic and tragic scenes was still 
 weeping, Max asked the meaning of such distress ; 
 seemed surprised, pretended that he knew nothing, and 
 heard, with well-acted amazement, of Flore's departure. 
 He .questioned Kouski, to obtain some light on the 
 object of this inexplicable journey. 
 
 "Madame said like this," Kouski replied, — " that I 
 was to tell monsieur she had taken twent}' thousand 
 francs in gold from his drawer, thinking that monsieur 
 
The Two Brothers. 311 
 
 would n't refuse her that amount as wages for the last 
 twenty-two years." 
 
 " Wages? " exclaimed Rouget. 
 
 44 Yes," replied Kouski. 44 ' Ah ! I shall never come 
 back,' " she said to Vedie, as she drove awa}\ 44 Poor 
 Vedie, who is so attached to monsieur, remonstrated 
 with madame. ' No, no,' she answered, ' he has no 
 affection for me ; he lets his nephew treat me like the 
 lowest of the low ; ' and she wept — oh ! bitterly." 
 
 4 4 Eh ! what do I care for Philippe ? " cried the old 
 man, whom Max w r as watching. "Where is Flore? 
 how can we find out where she is?" 
 
 " Philippe, whose advice you follow, will help you," 
 said Max coldly. 
 
 "Philippe?" said the old man, u what has he to do 
 with the poor child? There is no one but you, m}- good 
 Max, who can find Flore. She will follow you — you 
 could bring her back to me — " 
 
 44 1 don't wish to oppose Monsieur Bridau," observed 
 Max. 
 
 44 As for that," cried Rouget, 4 'if that hinders you, 
 he told me he meant to kill you." 
 
 44 Ah!" exclaimed Gilet, laughing, 44 we will see 
 about it ! " 
 
 44 My friend," said the old man, 44 find Flore, and I 
 will do all she wants of me." 
 
 44 Some one must have seen her as she passed through 
 the town," said Maxence to Kouski. 4t Serve dinner; 
 put everything on the table, and then go and make in- 
 quiries from place to place. Let us know, b} T dessert, 
 which road Mademoiselle Brazier has taken." 
 
 This order quieted for a time the poor creature, who 
 was moaning like a child that has lost its nurse. At 
 
312 The Two Brothers. 
 
 this moment Rouget, who hated Max, thought his tor- 
 mentor an angel. A passion like that of this miserable 
 old man for Flore is astonishingly like the emotions of 
 childhood. At six o'clock, the Pole, who had merely 
 taken a walk, returned to announce that Flore had 
 driven towards Vatan. 
 
 "Madame is going back to her own people, that's 
 plain," said Kouski. 
 
 "Would you like to go to Vatan to-night?" said 
 Max. "The road is bad, but Kouski knows how to 
 drive, and } r ou '11 make jour peace better to-night than 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Let us go ! " cried Rouget. 
 
 "Put the horse in quietly," said Max to Kouski-, 
 " manage, if 3011 can, that the town shall not know of 
 this nonsense, for Monsieur Rouget's sake. Saddle my 
 horse," he added in a whisper. " I will ride on ahead 
 of you." 
 
 Monsieur Hochon had already notified Philippe of 
 Flore's departure ; and the colonel rose from Monsieur 
 Mignonnet's dinner-table to rush to the place Saint- 
 Jean ; for he at once guessed the meaning of this 
 clever strategy. When Philippe presented himself 
 at his uncle's house, Kouski answered through a 
 window that Monsieur Rouget was unable to see 
 any one. 
 
 " Fario," said Philippe to the Spaniard, who was 
 stationed in the Grancle-Narette, "go and tell Benja- 
 min to mount his horse ; it is all-important that I shall 
 know what Gilet does with my uncle." 
 
 "They are now putting the horse into the caleche," 
 said Fario, who had been watching the Rouget stable. 
 
 " If the}' go towards Vatan," answered Philippe, " get 
 
 I 
 
Tlie Two Brothers. 313 
 
 me another horse, and come j'ourself with Benjamin to 
 Monsieur Mignonnet's. 
 
 "What do }'ou mean to do?" asked Monsieur 
 Hochon, who had come out of his own house when he 
 saw Philippe and Fario standing together. 
 
 " The genius of a general, my dear Monsieur Hochon," 
 said Philippe, " consists not only in carefully observ- 
 ing the enemy's movements, but also in guessing his 
 intentions from those movements, and in modif} T ing his 
 own plan whenever the enemy interferes with it by 
 some unexpected action. Now, if my uncle and Max 
 drive out together, they are going i,o Vatan ; Maxence 
 will have promised to reconcile him with Flore, who 
 fugit ad salices, — the manoeuvre is General Virgil's. 
 If that 's the line the}^ take, I don't yet know what I 
 shall do ; I shall have some hours to think it over, for 
 my uncle can't sign a power of attorney at ten o'clock 
 at night ; the notaries will all be in bed. If, as I rather 
 fancy, Max goes on in advance of my uncle to teach 
 Flore her lesson, — which seems necessary and probable, 
 — the rogue is lost ! you will see the sort of revenge 
 we old soldiers take in a game of this kind. Now, as 
 I need a helper for this last stroke, I must go back to 
 Mignonnet's and make an arrangement with my friend 
 Carpentier." 
 
 Shaking hands with Monsieur Hochon, Philippe went 
 off down the Petite-Narette to Mignonnet's house. 
 Ten minutes later, Monsieur Hochon saw %x ride off 
 at a quick trot ; and the old miser's curiosity was so 
 powerfully excited that he remained standing at his 
 window, eagerly expecting to hear the wheels of the old 
 demi-fortune, which was not long in coming. Jean- 
 Jacques's impatience made him follow Max within 
 
314 The Two Brothers. 
 
 twent} r minutes. Kouski, no doubt under orders from 
 his master, walked the horse through the town. 
 
 M If they get to Paris, all is lost," thought Monsieur 
 Hochon. 
 
 At this moment, a lad from the faubourg de Rome 
 came to the Hochon house with a letter for Barnch. 
 The two grandsons, much subdued b} r the events of the 
 morning, had kept their rooms of their own accord dur- 
 ing the day. Thinking over their prospects, they saw 
 plainly that the}' had better be cautious with their 
 grandparents. Baruch knew very well the influence 
 which his grandfather Hochon exerted over his grand- 
 father and grandmother Borniche : Monsieur Hochon 
 would not hesitate to get their property for Adolphine 
 if his conduct were such as to make them pin their 
 hopes on the grand marriage with which his grandfather 
 had threatened him that morning. Being richer than 
 Frangois, Baruch had the most to lose ; he therefore 
 counselled an absolute surrender, with no other condi- 
 tion than the payment of their debt to Max. As for 
 Francois, his future was entirely in the hands of his 
 grandfather ; he had no expectations except from him, 
 and by the guardianship account, he was now his debtor. 
 The two young men accordingly gave solemn promises 
 of amendment, prompted by their imperilled interests, 
 and b}' the hope Madame Hochon held out, that the 
 debt to Max should be paid. 
 
 "You have done very wrong," she said to them; 
 4 'repair it by future good conduct, and Monsieur 
 Hochon will forget it." 
 
 So, when Francois had read the letter which had been 
 brought for Baruch, over the latter's shoulder, he whis- 
 pered in his ear, " Ask grandpapa's advice." 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 315 
 
 11 Read this," said Baruch, taking the letter to old 
 Hochon. 
 
 " Read it to me yourself; I have n't my spectacles. " 
 
 My dear Friend, — I hope you will not hesitate, under 
 _.ie serious circumstances in which I find myself, to do me 
 the service of receiving a power of attorney from Monsieur 
 Rouget. Be at Vatan to-morrow morning at nine o'clock. 
 I shall probably send you to Paris, but don't be uneasy; I 
 will furnish you with money for the journey, and join you 
 there immediately. I am almost sure I shall be obliged to 
 leave Issoudun, December third. 
 
 Adieu. I count on your friendship ; rely on that of your 
 friend, Maxence. 
 
 "God be praised!" exclaimed Monsieur Hochon; 
 " the property of that old idiot is saved from the claws 
 of the devil." 
 
 " It will be if you say so," said Madame Hochon; 
 M and I thank God, — who has no doubt heard my 
 prayers. The prosperity of the wicked is always 
 fleeting." 
 
 " You must go to Vatan, and accept the power of 
 attorney from Monsieur Rouget," said the old man to 
 Baruch. " Their object is to get fifty thousand francs 
 a year transferred to Mademoiselle Brazier. They will 
 send you to Paris, and you must seem to go ; but you 
 are to stop at Orleans, and wait there till }'ou hear from 
 me. Let no one — not a soul — know where 3011 lodge ; 
 go to the first inn you come to in the faubourg Bannier, 
 no matter if it is only a post-house — " 
 
 " Look here ! " cried Francois, who had rushed to the 
 window at the sudden noise of wheels in the Grande- 
 Narette. " Here 's something new ! — Pere Rouget and 
 Colonel Bridau coming back together in the caleche, 
 
316 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Benjamin and Captain Carpentier following on horse- 
 back ! " 
 
 "I'll go over," cried Monsieur Hochon, whose curi- 
 osity carried the da} r over ever3 r other feeling. 
 
 Monsieur Hochon found old Rouget in his bedroom, 
 writing the following letter at his nephew's dictation : 
 
 Mademoiselle, — If you do not start to return here the 
 moment you receive this letter, your conduct will show such 
 ingratitude for all my goodness that I shall revoke the will I 
 have made in your favor, and give my property to my nephew 
 Philippe. You will understand that Monsieur Gilet can no 
 longer be my guest after staying with you at Vatan. I send 
 this letter by Captain Carpentier, who will put it into your 
 own hands. I hope you will listen to his advice; he will 
 speak to you with authority from me. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 J.-J. Rouget. 
 
 " Captain Carpentier and I met my uncle, who was 
 so foolish as to follow Mademoiselle Brazier and Mon- 
 sieur Gilet to Vatan," said Philippe, with sarcastic em- 
 phasis, to Monsieur Hochon. " I have made my uncle 
 see that he was running his head into a noose ; for that 
 girl will abandon him the moment she gets him to sign 
 a power of attorney, by which they mean to obtain the 
 income of his money in the Funds. That letter will 
 bring her back under his roof, the handsome runaway ! 
 this very night, or I'm mistaken. I promise to make 
 her as pliable as a bit of whalebone for the rest of her 
 days, if my uncle allows me to take Monsieur Gilet's 
 place ; which, in my opinion, he ought never to have 
 had in the first instance. Am I not right? — and yet 
 here 's my uncle bemoaning himself ! " 
 
 " Neighbor," said .Monsieur Hochon, " you have 
 
The Two Brothers. 317 
 
 taken the best means to get peace in your household. 
 Destroy your will, and Flore will be once more what 
 she used to be in the early days." 
 
 11 No, she will never forgive me for what I have made 
 her suffer," whimpered the old man; "she will no 
 longer love me." 
 
 " She shall love you, and closely too; I '11 take care 
 of that," said Philippe. 
 
 44 Come, open your eyes!" exclaimed Monsieur 
 Hochon. " They mean to rob you and abandon you." 
 " Oh ! I was sure of it ! " cried the poor imbecile. 
 44 See, here is a letter Maxence has written to nry 
 grandson Borniche," said old Hochon. " Read it." 
 
 " What infamy ! " exclaimed Carpentier, as he lis- 
 tened to the letter, which Rouget read aloud, weeping. 
 
 4 ' Is that plain enough, uncle?" demanded Philippe. 
 14 Hold that hussy by her interests and she '11 adore you 
 as you deserve." 
 
 44 She loves Maxence too well ; she will leave me," 
 cried the frightened old man. 
 
 44 But, uncle, Maxence or I, — one or the other of us 
 — won't leave our footsteps in the dust of Issoudun 
 three days hence." 
 
 44 Well then, go, Monsieur Carpentier," said Rouget ; 
 44 if } T ou promise me to bring her back, go ! You are a 
 good man ; say to her in my name all you think you 
 ought to sa}\" 
 
 44 Captain Carpentier will whisper in her ear that I 
 have sent to Paris for a woman whose youth and beauty 
 are captivating ; that will bring the jade back in a 
 hurry ! " 
 
 The captain departed, driving himself in the old 
 caleche ; Benjamin accompanied him on horseback, for 
 
318 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Kouski was nowhere to be found. Though threatened 
 by the officers with arrest and the loss of his situation, 
 the Pole had gone to Vatan on a hired horse, to warn 
 Max and Flore of the adversary's move. After fulfilling 
 his mission, Carpentier, who did not wish to drive back 
 with Flore, was to change places with Benjamin, and 
 take the latter s horse. 
 
 When Philippe was told of Kouski's flight he said 
 to Benjamin, " You will take the Pole's place, from 
 this time on. It is all mapping out, papa Hochon ! " 
 cried the lieutenant-colonel. "That banquet will be 
 jovial ! " 
 
 " You will come and live here, of course," said the 
 old miser. 
 
 " I have told Fario to send me all my things," an- 
 swered Philippe. " I shall sleep in the room adjoining 
 Gilet's apartment, — if my uncle consents." 
 
 11 What will come of all this?" cried the terrified old 
 man. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Flore Brazier is coming, gentle as a 
 paschal lamb," replied Monsieur Hochon. 
 
 " God grant it ! " exclaimed Rouget, wiping his eyes. 
 
 4 ' It is now seven o'clock," said Philippe ; " the sover- 
 eign of 3*0111* heart will be here at half-past eleven : 
 you '11 never see Gilet again, and you will be as happy 
 ever after as a pope. — If 3011 want me to succeed," 
 he whispered to Monsieur Hochon, u stay here till the 
 hussy comes ; 30U can help me in keeping the old man 
 up to his resolution; and, together, we'll make that 
 crab-girl see on which side her bread is buttered." 
 
 Monsieur Hochon felt the reasonableness of the re- 
 quest and sta}-ed : but they had their hands full, for 
 old Rouget gave waj- to childish lamentations, which 
 
The Two Brothers. 319 
 
 were only quieted by Philippe's repeating over and over 
 a dozen times : — 
 
 44 Uncle, you will see that I am right when Flore 
 returns to you as tender as ever. You shall be petted ; 
 you will save your property : be guided b}' my ad- 
 vice, and you '11 live in paradise for the rest of your 
 days." 
 
 When, about half-past eleven, wheels were heard in 
 the Grande-Narette, the question was, whether the car- 
 riage were returning full or empty. Rouget's face wore 
 an expression of agony, which changed to the prostra- 
 tion of excessive joy when he saw the two women, as 
 the carriage turned to enter the court\ T ard. 
 
 "Kouski," said Philippe, giving a hand to Flore to 
 help her down. 4t You are no longer in Monsieur 
 Rouget's service. You will not sleep here to-night ; get 
 your things together, and go. Benjamin takes your 
 place." 
 
 44 Are you the master here?" said Flore sarcastically. 
 
 44 With your permission," replied Philippe, squeezing 
 her hand as if in a vice. " Come ! we must have an 
 understanding, }'Ou and I ; " and he led the bewildered 
 woman out into the place Saint- Jean. 
 
 44 My fine lady," began the old campaigner, stretching 
 out his right hand, 44 three days hence, Maxence Gilet 
 will be sent to the shades by that arm, or his will have 
 taken me off guard. If I die, } r ou will be mistress of 
 my poor imbecile uncle ; bene sit. If I remain on m} T 
 pins, you '11 have to walk straight, and keep him sup- 
 plied with first-class happiness. If you don't, I know 
 girls in Paris who are, with all due respect, much 
 prettier than you ; for they are only seventeen years 
 old : the}' would make my uncle excessively happj', and 
 
320 TJie Two Brothers. 
 
 they are in 1113' interests. Begin 3*011 r attentions this 
 very evening ; if the old man is not as gay as a lark 
 to-morrow morning, I have 011I3* a word to sa3* to 3*011 ; 
 it is this, pay attention to it, — there is but one wa3* to 
 kill a man without the interference of the law, and that 
 is to fight a duel with him ; but I know three ways to 
 get rid of a woman : mind that, m3* beaut3* ! " 
 
 During this address, Flore shook like a person with 
 the ague. 
 
 44 Kill Max? — * she said, gazing at Philippe in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 44 Come, here 's m3 T uncle." 
 
 Old Rouget, turning a deaf ear to Monsieur Hochon's 
 remonstrances, now came out into the street, and took 
 Flore by the hand, as a miser might have grasped his 
 treasure ; he drew her back to the house and into his 
 own room and shut the door. 
 
 44 This is Saint-Lambert's da3*, and he who deserts 
 his place, loses it," remarked Benjamin to the Pole. 
 
 44 My master will shut your mouth for 3*011," answered 
 Kouski, departing to join Max who established himself 
 at the hotel de la Poste. 
 
 On the morrow, between nine and eleven o'clock, all 
 the women talked to each other from door to door 
 throughout the town. The story of the wonderful change 
 in the Rouget household spread everywhere. The up- 
 shot of the conversations was the same on all sides, — 
 
 44 What will happen at the banquet between Max and 
 Colonel Bridau?" 
 
 Philippe said but two words to the Vedie, — 44 Six 
 hundred francs' annuit3*, or dismissal." The3* were 
 enough, however, to keep her neutral, for a time, be- 
 tween the two great powers, Philippe and Flore. 
 
The Two Brothers. 821 
 
 Knowing Max's life to be in danger, Flore became 
 more affectionate to Rouget than in the first days of 
 their alliance. Alas ! in love, a self-interested devotion 
 is sometimes more agreeable than a truthful one ; and 
 that is wh} r many men pay so much for clever deceivers. 
 The Rabouilleuse did not appear till the next morn- 
 ing, when she came down to breakfast with Rouget 
 on her arm. Tears filled her eyes as she beheld, 
 sitting in Max's place, the terrible adversary, with 
 his sombre blue eye, and the cold, sinister expression 
 on his face. 
 
 44 What is the matter, mademoiselle?" he said, after 
 wishing his uncle good-morning. 
 
 44 She can't endure the idea of your fighting Maxence," 
 said old Rouget. 
 
 44 1 have not the slightest desire to kill Gilet," an- 
 swered Philippe. 44 He need only take himself off from 
 Tssoudun and go to America on a venture. I should 
 be the first to advise you to give him an outfit, and to 
 wish him a safe vo} T age. He would soon make a for- 
 tune there, and that is far more honorable than turning 
 Issoudun topsy-turv}' at night, and playing the devil in 
 \our household." 
 
 44 Well, that's fair enough," said Rouget, glancing 
 at Flore. 
 
 44 A-mer-i-ca ! " she ejaculated, sobbing. 
 
 44 It is better to kick his legs about in a free country 
 than have them rot in a pine box in France. However, 
 perhaps you think he is a good shot, and can kill me ; 
 it's on the cards," observed the colonel. 
 
 44 Will you let me speak to him?" said Flore, implor- 
 ing Philippe in a humble and submissive tone. 
 
 44 Certainty ; he can come here and pack up his 
 21 
 
322 The Two Brother*. 
 
 things. I will stay with my uncle during that time; 
 for I shall not leave the old man again," replied 
 Philippe. 
 
 M Vedie," cried Flore, " run to the hotel, and tell 
 Monsieur Gilet that I beg him — " 
 
 " — to come and get his belongings," said Philippe, 
 interrupting Flore's message. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Vedie ; that will be a good pretext to see 
 me ; I must speak to him." 
 
 Terror controlled her hatred ; and the shock which 
 her whole being experienced when she first encoun- 
 tered this strong and pitiless nature was now so over- 
 whelming that she bowed before Philippe just as 
 Rouget had been in the habit of bending before her. 
 She anxiously awaited Vedie's return. The woman 
 brought a formal refusal from Max, who requested 
 Mademoiselle Brazier to send his things to the hotel 
 de la Poste. 
 
 " Will you allow me to take them to him? " she said 
 to Jean-Jacques Rouget. 
 
 U Yes, but will } T ou come back? " said the old man. 
 
 "If Mademoiselle is not back by midday, you will 
 give me a power of attorney to attend to your prop- 
 erty," said Philippe, looking at Flore. "Take Vedie 
 with 3'ou, to save appearances, mademoiselle. In future 
 you are to think of ray uncle's honor." 
 
 Flore could get nothing out of Max. Desperate at 
 having allowed himself, before the e} T es of the whole 
 town, to be routed out of his shameless position, Gilet 
 was too proud to run away from Philippe. The Ra- 
 bouilleuse combated this objection, and proposed that 
 the}' should fly together to America ; but Max, who 
 did not want Flore without her money, and yet did not 
 
The Two Brothers. 323 
 
 wish the girl to see to the bottom of his heart, insisted 
 on his intention of killing Philippe. 
 
 "We have committed a monstrous follj'," he said. 
 4 'We ought all three to have gone to Paris and spent 
 the winter there ; but how could one guess, from the 
 mere sight of that fellow's big carcass, that things 
 would turn out as the^^ have? The turn of events is 
 enough to make one giddy ! I took the colonel for one 
 of those fire-eaters who have n't two ideas in their 
 head ; that was the blunder I made. As I did n't have 
 the sense to double like a hare in the beginning, I '11 
 not be such a coward as to back down before him. 
 He has lowered me in the estimation of this town, and 
 I cannot get back what I have lost unless I kill him." 
 
 " Go to America with forty thousand francs. I'll 
 find a way to get rid of that scoundrel, and join you. 
 It would be much wiser." 
 
 "What would people say of me?" he exclaimed. 
 " No ; I x have buried nine already. The fellow does n't 
 seem as if he knew much ; he went from school to the 
 army, and there he was always fighting till 1815 ; then 
 he went to America, and I doubt if the brute ever set 
 foot in a fencing-alley ; while I have no match with the 
 sabre. The sabre is his arm ; I shall seem veiy gener- 
 ous in offering it to him, — for I mean, if possible, to let 
 him insult me, — and I can easily run him through. 
 Unquestionably, it is nry wisest course. Don't be un- 
 easy ; we shall be masters of the field in a couple of 
 days." 
 
 Thus it was that a stupid point of honor had more 
 influence over Max than sound policy. When Flore 
 got home she shut herself up to cry at ease. During 
 the whole of that da}v gossip ran wild in Issoudun, and 
 
324 The Two Brother*. 
 
 the duel between Philippe and Maxence was considered 
 inevitable. 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur Hochon," said Mignonnet, who, 
 accompanied by Carpentier, met the old man on the 
 boulevard Baron, "we are very uneasy; for Gilet is 
 clever with all weapons." 
 
 " Never mind," said the old provincial diplomatist ; 
 M Philippe has managed this thing well from the begin- 
 ning. I never should have thought that big, easy-going 
 fellow would have succeeded as he has. The two have 
 rolled together like a couple of thunder-clouds." 
 
 "Oh!" said Carpentier, "Philippe is a remarkable 
 man. His conduct before the Court of Peers was a 
 masterpiece of diplomacy." 
 
 "Well, Captain Renard," said one of the townsfolk 
 to Max's friend. " They say wolves don't devour each 
 other, but it seems that Max is going to set his teeth 
 in Colonel Bridau. That's pretty serious among you 
 gentlemen of the Old Guard." 
 
 "You make fun of it, do you? Because the poor 
 fellow amused himself a little at night, you are all 
 against him," said Potel. "But Gilet is a man who 
 couldn't sta} T in a hole like Issoudun without finding 
 something to do." 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," remarked another, "Max and 
 the colonel must pla} r out their game. Bridau had 
 to avenge his brother. Don't you remember Max's 
 treachery to the poor lad ? " 
 
 " Bah ! nothing but an artist," said Renard. 
 
 "But the real question is about the old man's prop- 
 ert}'," said a third. " The} T say Monsieur Gilet was 
 laj'ing hands on fifty thousand francs a year, when the 
 colonel turned him out of his uncle's house." 
 
The Two Brothers. 325 
 
 " Gilet rob a man! Come, don't say that to any 
 one but me, Monsieur Canivet," cried Potel. "If you 
 do, I '11 make you swallow 3'our tongue, — and without 
 any sauce." 
 
 Every household in town offered prayers for the 
 honorable Colonel Bridau. 
 
326 The Two Brothers. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Towards four o'clock of the following day, the officers 
 of the old arm}- who were at Issoudun or its environs, 
 were sauntering about the place du Marche, in front of 
 an eating-house kept by a man named Lacroix, and 
 waiting the arrival of Colonel Philippe Bridau. The 
 banquet in honor of the coronation was to take place 
 with military punctualit}' at five o'clock. Various groups 
 of persons were talkiug of Max's discomfiture, and his 
 dismissal from old Rouget's house ; for not only were 
 the officers to dine at Lacroix's, but the common sol- 
 diers had determined on a meeting at a neighboring 
 wine-shop. Among the officers, Potel and Renard were 
 the only ones who attempted to defend Max. 
 
 " Is it any of our business what takes place among 
 the old man's heirs ? " said Renard. 
 
 ki Max is weak with women," remarked the c}*nical 
 Potel. 
 
 "There'll be sabres unsheathed before long," said 
 an old sub-lieutenant, who cultivated a kitchen-garden 
 in the upper Baltan. " If Monsieur Maxence Gilet 
 committed the folly of going to live under old Rouget's 
 roof, he would be a coward if he allowed himself to be 
 turned off like a valet without asking why." 
 
 fci 0f course," said Mignonnet dryly. ' k A folly that 
 doesn't succeed becomes a crime." 
 
 At this moment Max joined the old soldiers of Napo- 
 leon, and was received in significant silence. Potel and 
 
The Two Brothers. 327 
 
 Renard each took an arm of their friend, and walked 
 about with him, conversing. Presently Philippe was 
 seen approaching in full dress ; he trailed his cane after 
 him with an imperturbable air which contrasted with 
 the forced attention Max was paying to the remarks 
 of his two supporters. Bridau's hand was grasped by 
 Mignonnet, Carpentier, and several others. This wel- 
 come, so different from that accorded to Max, dispelled 
 the last feeling of cowardice, or, if you prefer it, wisdom, 
 which Flore's entreaties, and above all, her tenderness, 
 had awakened in the latter's mind. 
 
 M We shall fight," he said to Renard, " and to the 
 death. Therefore don't talk to me any more ; let me 
 play my part well." 
 
 After these words, spoken in a feverish tone, the 
 three Bonapartists returned to the group of officers and 
 mixed among them. Max bowed first to Bridau, who 
 returned his bow, and the two exchanged a frigid 
 glance. 
 
 fc ' Come, gentlemen, let us take our seats," said 
 Potel. 
 
 " And drink to the health of the Little Corporal, 
 who is now in the paradise of heroes," cried Renard. 
 
 The company poured into the long, low dining-hall 
 of the restaurant Lacroix, the windows of which opened 
 on the market-place. Each guest took his seat at the 
 table, where, in compliance with Philippe's request, the 
 two adversaries were placed directly opposite to each 
 other. Some young men of the town, among them 
 several Knights of Idleness, anxious to know what 
 might happen at the banquet, were walking about 
 the street and discussing the critical position into 
 which Philippe had contrived to force Max. They all 
 
328 The Two Brothers. 
 
 deplored the crisis, though each considered the duel to 
 be inevitable. 
 
 Everything went off well until the dessert, though 
 the two antagonists betrayed, in spite of the apparent 
 jovialit} T of the dinner, a certain vigilance that resem- 
 bled disquietude. While waiting for the quarrel that 
 both were planning, Philippe showed admirable cool- 
 ness, and Max a distracting gayet} T ; but to an ob- 
 server, each was playing a part. 
 
 When the dessert was served Philippe rose and said : 
 "Fill your glasses, my friends ! I ask permission to 
 propose the first toast." 
 
 "He said my friends, don't fill } r our glass," whis- 
 pered Renard to Max. 
 
 Max poured out some wine. 
 
 " To the Grand Army ! " cried Philippe, with genu- 
 ine enthusiasm. 
 
 "To the Grand Army!" was repeated with accla- 
 mation by every voice. 
 
 At this moment eleven private soldiers, among whom 
 were Benjamin and Kouski, appeared at the door of 
 the room and repeated the toast, — 
 
 " To the Grand Army ! " 
 
 "Come in, my sons; we are going to drink His 
 health." 
 
 The old soldiers came in and stood behind the 
 officers. 
 
 " You see He is not dead ! " said Kouski to an old 
 sergeant, who had perhaps been grieving that the 
 Emperor's agony was over. 
 
 " I claim the second toast," said Mignonnet, as he 
 rose. " Let us drink to those who attempted to re- 
 store His son ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 329 
 
 Every one present, except Maxence Gilet, bowed to 
 Philippe Bridau, and stretched their glasses towards him. 
 
 44 One word," said Max, rising. 
 
 "It is Max ! it is Max ! " cried voices outside ; and 
 then a deep silence reigned in the room and in the 
 street, for Gilet's known character made every one 
 expect a taunt. 
 
 4k May we all meet again at this time next year," 
 said Max, bowing ironically to Philippe. 
 
 44 It 's coming ! " whispered Kouski to his neighbor. 
 
 " The Paris police would never allow a banquet of 
 this kind," said Potel to Philippe. 
 
 4   Why the devil do you mention the police to Colonel 
 Bridau ? " said Maxence insolently. 
 
 " Captain Potel — he — meant no insult," said 
 Philippe, smiling coldly. The stillness was so pro- 
 found that the buzzing of a fly could have been heard 
 if there had been one. 
 
 M The police were sufficiently afraid of me," resumed 
 Philippe, 44 to send me to Issoudun, — a place where 
 I have had the pleasure of meeting old comrades, but 
 where, it must be owned, there is a dearth of amuse- 
 ment. For a man who does n't despise folly, I 'm 
 rather restricted. However, it is certainly economical, 
 for I am not one of those to whom feather-beds 
 give incomes ; Mariette of the Grand Opera cost me 
 fabulous sums." 
 
 44 Is that remark meant for me, mj'Tdear colonel?" 
 asked Max, sending a glance at Philippe which was 
 like a current of electricit}\ 
 
 44 Take it as you please," answered Bridau. 
 
 44 Colonel, my two friends here, Renard and Potel, 
 will call to-morrow on — " 
 
330 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " — on Mignonnet and Carpentier," answered Phil- 
 ippe, cutting short Max's sentence, and motioning 
 towards his two neighbors. 
 
 " Now," said Max, " let us go on with the toasts." 
 
 The two adversaries had not raised their voices 
 above the tone of ordinary conversation ; there was 
 nothing solemn in the affair except the dead silence in 
 which it took place. 
 
 M Look here, you others ! " cried Philippe, addressing 
 the soldiers who stood behind the officers; "remem- 
 ber that our affairs don't concern the bourgeoisie — not 
 a word, therefore, on what goes on here. It is for the 
 Old Guard only." 
 
 " They'll obey orders, colonel," said Renard. "I'll 
 answer for them." 
 
 "Long live His little one! May he reign over 
 France ! " cried Potel. 
 
 " Death to Englishmen ! " cried Carpentier. 
 
 That toast was received with prodigious applause. 
 
 " Shame on Hudson Lowe," said Captain Renard. 
 
 The dessert passed off well ; the libations were plen- 
 tiful. The antagonists and their four seconds made 
 it a point of honor that a duel, involving so large a 
 fortune, and the reputation of two men noted for their 
 courage, should not appear the result of an ordinary 
 squabble. No two gentlemen could have behaved 
 better than Philippe and Max ; in this respect the 
 anxious waiting of the young men and townspeople 
 grouped about the market-place was balked. All the 
 guests, like true soldiers, kept silence as to the epi- 
 sode which took place at dessert. At ten o'clock that 
 night the two adversaries were informed that the sabre 
 was the weapon agreed upon by the seconds ; the 
 
 I 
 
The Two Brothers. 331 
 
 place chosen for the rendezvous was behind the chancel 
 of the church of the Capuchins at eight o'clock the 
 next morning. Goddet, who was at the banquet in 
 his quality of former army surgeon, was requested to 
 be present at the meeting. The seconds agreed that, 
 no matter what might happen, the combat should last 
 only ten minutes. 
 
 At eleven o'clock that night, to Colonel Bridau's 
 amazement, Monsieur Hochon appeared at his rooms 
 just as he was going to bed, escorting Madame 
 Hochon. 
 
 M We know what has happened," said the old lady, 
 with her eyes full of tears, " and I have come to en- 
 treat you not to leave the house to-morrow morning 
 without saying your prayers. Lift your soul to 
 God ! " 
 
 " Yes, madame," said Philippe, to whom old Hochon 
 made a sign from behind his wife's back. 
 
 " That is not all," said Agathe's godmother. " I 
 stand in the place of your poor mother, and I divest 
 myself, for j t ou, of a thing which I hold most precious, 
 — here," she went on, holding towards Philippe a 
 tooth, fastened upon a piece of black velvet embroid- 
 ered in gold, to which she had sewn a pair of green 
 strings. Having shown it to him, she replaced it in a 
 little bag. " It is a relic of Sainte Solange, the patron 
 saint of Berry," she said. " I saved it during the 
 Revolution ; wear it on your breast to-morrow." 
 
 "Will it protect me from a sabre-thrust?" asked 
 Philippe. 
 
 u Yes," replied the old ladjr. 
 
 "Then I have no right to wear that accoutrement 
 anv more than if it were a cuirass," cried Agathe's son. 
 
332 The Two Brothers. 
 
 i 'What does he mean?" said Madame Hochon. 
 
 " He says it is not playing fair," answered Hochon. 
 
 " Then we will say no more about it," said the old 
 lady, M I shall pray for 3-011." 
 
 "Well, madame, prayer — and a good point — can 
 do no harm," said Philippe, making a thrust as if to 
 pierce Monsieur Hochon's heart. 
 
 The old lady kissed the colonel on his forehead. As 
 she left the house, she gave thirty francs — all the 
 mone}' she possessed — to Benjamin, requesting him to 
 sew the relic into the pocket of his master's trousers. 
 Benjamin did so, — not that he believed in the virtue of 
 the tooth, for he said his master had a much better 
 talisman than that against Gilet, but because his con- 
 science constrained him to fulfil a commission for which 
 he had been so liberally paid. Madame Hochon went 
 home full of confidence in Sainte Solange. • 
 
 At eight o'clock the next morning, December third, 
 the weather being cloudy, Max, accompanied by his sec- 
 onds and the Pole, arrived on the little meadow which 
 then surrounded the apse of the church of the Capuchins. 
 There he found Philippe and his seconds, with Benjamin, 
 waiting for him. Potel and Mignonnet paced off 
 twenty-four feet ; at each extremity, the two attend- 
 ants drew a line on the earth with a spade : the 
 combatants were not allowed to retreat beyond that 
 line, on pain of being thought cowardly. Each was to 
 stand at his own line, and advance as he pleased when 
 the seconds gave the word. 
 
 44 Do we take off our coats?" said Philippe to his 
 adversaiy coldly. 
 
 " Of course," answered Maxence, with the assump- 
 tion of a bully. 
 
The Two Brothers. 333 
 
 They did so ; the rosy tints of their skin appear- 
 ing through the cambric of their shirts. Each, armed 
 with a cavalry sabre selected of equal weight, about 
 three pounds, and equal length, three feet, placed him- 
 self at his own line, the point of his weapon on the 
 ground, awaiting the signal. Both were so calm that, 
 in spite of the cold, their muscles quivered no more 
 than if they had been made of iron. Goddet, the four 
 seconds, and the two soldiers felt an involuntary 
 admiration. 
 
 "They are a proud pair ! " 
 
 The exclamation came from Potel. 
 
 Just as the signal was given, Max caught sight of 
 Fario's sinister face looking at them through the hole 
 which the Knights of Idleness had made for the pigeons 
 in the roof of the church. Those eyes, which sent 
 forth streams of fire, hatred, and revenge, dazzled Max 
 for a moment. The colonel went straight to his adver- 
 sary, and put himself on guard in a way that gained 
 him an advantage. Experts in the art of killing, know 
 that, of two antagonists, the ablest takes the "inside of 
 the pavement," — to use an expression which gives the 
 reader a tangible idea of the effect of a good guard. 
 That pose, which is in some degree observant, marks 
 so plainly a duellist of the first rank that a feeling of 
 inferiority came into Max's soul, and produced the 
 same disarray of powers which demoralizes a gambler 
 when, in presence of a master or a lucky hand, he loses 
 his self-possession and plays less well than usual. 
 
 M Ah ! the lascar ! " thought Max, M he 's an expert ; 
 I'm lost!" 
 
 He attempted a mouHnet, and twirled his sabre with 
 the dexterity of a single-stick. He wanted to bewilder 
 
334 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Philippe, and strike his weapon so as to disarm him ; 
 but at the first encounter he felt that the colonel's wrist 
 was iron, with the flexibility of a steel spring. Maxence 
 was then forced, unfortunate fellow, to think of another 
 move, while Philippe, whose e3 r es were darting gleams 
 that were sharper than the flash of their blades, parried 
 every attack with the coolness of a fencing-master wear- 
 ing his plastron in an armory. 
 
 Between two men of the calibre of these combat- 
 ants, there occurs a phenomenon very like that which 
 takes place among the lower classes, during the ter- 
 rible tussle called the savate, which is fought with the 
 feet, as the name implies. Victory depends on a false 
 movement, on some error of the calculation, rapid as 
 lightning, which must be made and followed almost 
 instinctively. During a period of time as short to the 
 spectators as it seems long to the combatants, the con- 
 test lies in observation, so keen as to absorb the powers 
 of mind and body, and yet concealed by preparatoiy 
 feints whose slowness and apparent prudence seem to 
 show that the antagonists are not intending to fight. 
 This moment, which is followed by a rapid and decisive 
 struggle, is terrible to a connoisseur. At a bad parry 
 from Max the colonel sent the sabre spinning from his 
 hand. 
 
 " Pick it up, " he said, pausing ; "lam not the man 
 to kill a disarmed enemy." 
 
 There was something atrocious in the grandeur of 
 these words ; they seemed to show such consciousness 
 of superiority that the onlookers took them for a shrewd 
 calculation. In fact, when Max replaced himself in 
 position, he had lost his coolness, and was once more 
 confronted with his adversary's raised guard which 
 
The Two Brothers. 335 
 
 defended the colonel's whole person while it menaced 
 his. He resolved to redeem his shameful defeat by a 
 bold stroke. He no longer guarded himself, but took 
 his sabre in both hands and rushed furiously on his 
 antagonist, resolved to kill him, if he had to lose his 
 own life. Philippe received a sabre-cut which slashed 
 open his forehead and a part of his face, but he cleft 
 Max's head obliquely by the terrible sweep of a mou- 
 linet, made to break the force of the annihilating stroke 
 Max aimed at him. These two savage blows ended 
 the combat, at the ninth minute. Fario came down to 
 gloat over the sight of his enemy in the convulsions of 
 death ; for the muscles of a man of Maxence Gilet's 
 vigor quiver horribly. Philippe was carried back to 
 his uncle's house. 
 
 Thus perished a man destined to do great deeds had 
 he lived his life amid environments which were suited 
 to him ; a man treated by Nature as a favorite child, 
 for she gave him courage, self-possession, and the 
 political sagacity of a Caesar Borgia. But education 
 had not bestowed upon him that nobility of conduct 
 and ideas without which nothing great is possible in 
 ain' walk of life. He was not regretted, because of the 
 perfidy with which his adversary, who was a worse man 
 than he, had contrived to bring him into disrepute. His 
 death put an end to the exploits of the Order of Idle- 
 ness, to the great satisfaction of the town of Issoudun. 
 Philippe, therefore, had nothing to fear in consequence 
 of the duel, which seemed almost the result of divine 
 vengeance : its circumstances were related throughout 
 that whole region of countiy, with unanimous praise 
 for the braver}* of the two combatants. 
 
 " But the}* had better both have been killed," 
 
336 The Two Brothers. 
 
 remarked Monsieur Mouilleron ; " it would have been a 
 good riddance for the Government." 
 
 The situation of Flore Brazier would have been very 
 embarrassing were it not for the condition into which 
 she was thrown b}' Max's death. A brain-fever set in, 
 combined with a dangerous inflammation resulting from 
 her escapade to Vatan. If she had had her usual health, 
 she might have fled the house where, in the room above 
 her, Max's room, and in Max's bed, lay and suffered 
 Max's murderer. She hovered between life and death 
 for three months, attended by Monsieur Goddet, who 
 was also attending Philippe. 
 
 As soon as Philippe was able to hold a pen, he wrote 
 the following letters : — 
 
 To Monsieur Dkskoches: 
 
 I have already killed the most venomous of the two rep- 
 tiles; not however without getting my own head split open 
 by a sabre; but the rascal struck with a dying hand. 'I lie 
 other viper is here, and I must come to an understanding with 
 her, for my uncle clings to her like the apple of his eye. I 
 have been half afraid the girl, who is devilishly handsome, 
 might run away, and then my uncle would have followed her ; 
 but an illness which seized her suddenly has kept her in bed. 
 If God desired to protect me, he would call her soul to him- 
 self, now, while she is repenting of her sins. Meantime, on 
 my side I have, thanks to that old trump, Hochon, the doc- 
 tor of Issoudun, one named Goddet, a worthy soul who con- 
 ceives that the property of uncles ought to go to nephews 
 rather than to sluts. 
 
 Monsieur Hochon has some influence on a certain papa 
 Fichet. who is rich, and whose daughter Goddet wants as a 
 wife for his son: so the thousand francs they have promised 
 him if he mends up my pate is not the chief cause of his 
 devotion. Moreover, this Goddet, who was formerly head- 
 surgeon to the 3rd regiment of the line, has been privately 
 
The Two Brothers. 337 
 
 advised by my stanch friends, Mignonnet and Carpentier; 
 so he is now playing the hypocrite with his other patient. 
 He says to Mademoiselle Brazier, as he feels her pulse, " You 
 see, my child, that there 's a God after all. You have been 
 the cause of a great misfortune, and you must now repair it. 
 The finger of God is in all this [it is inconceivable what 
 they don't say the finger of God is in!]. Religion is re- 
 ligion: submit, resign yourself, and that will quiet you better 
 than my drugs. Above all, resolve to stay here and take care 
 of your master: forget and forgive, — that's Christianity." 
 
 Goddet has promised to keep the Rabouilleuse three 
 months in her bed. By degrees the girl will get accustomed 
 to living under the same roof with me. I have bought over 
 the cook. That abominable old woman tells her mistress 
 Max would have led her a hard life ; and declares she over- 
 heard him say that if, after the old man's death, he was 
 obliged to marry Flore, he did n't mean to have his prospects 
 ruined by it, and he should find a way to get rid of her. 
 
 Thus, all goes well, so far. My uncle, by old Hochon's 
 advice, has destroyed his will. 
 
 To Monsieur Giroudeau, care of Mademoiselle Florentine. Rue 
 de Vendome, Marais: 
 
 My dear old Fellow, — Find out if the little rat Ce- 
 sarine has any engagement, and if not, try to arrange that 
 she can come to Issoudun in case I send for her ; if I do, she 
 must come at once. It is a matter this time of decent behav- 
 ior; no theatre morals. She must present herself as the 
 daughter of a brave soldier, killed on the battle-field. There- 
 fore, mind, — sober manners, schoolgirl's clothes, virtue of the 
 best quality; that 's the watchword. If I need Cesarine, 
 and if she answers my purpose, I will give her fifty thousand 
 francs on my uncle's death. If Cesarine has other engage- 
 ments, explain what I want to Florentine ; and between you, 
 find me some ballet-girl capable of playing the part. 
 
 I have had my skull cracked in a duel with the fellow who 
 was filching my inheritance, and is now feeding the worms 
 
 22 
 
338 The Two Brothers. 
 
 I '11 tell you all about it some day. Ah ! old fellow, the good 
 times are coming back for you and me; we '11 amuse ourselves 
 once more, or we are not the pair we really are. If you can 
 send me five hundred more cartridges I '11 bite them. 
 
 Adieu, my old fire-eater. Light your pipe with this let- 
 ter. Mind, the daughter of the officer is to come from Cha- 
 teauroux, and must seem to be in need of assistance. I hope 
 however that I shall not be driven to such dangerous expe- 
 dients. Remember me to Mariette and all our friends. 
 
 Agathe, informed by Madame Hochon of what had 
 happened, rushed to Issoudun, and was received by 
 her brother, who gave her Philippe's former room. The 
 poor mother's tenderness for the worthless son revived 
 in all its maternal strength ; a few happy da}--s were hers 
 at last, as she listened to the praises which the whole 
 town bestowed upon her hero. 
 
 ''After all, my child," said Madame Hochon on the 
 day of her arrival, "3'outh must have its fling. The 
 dissipations of a soldier under the Empire must, of course, 
 be greater than those of young men who are looked after 
 their fathers. Oh ! if you only knew what went on here 
 at night under that wretched Max ! Thanks to yoxxv 
 son, Issoudun now breathes and sleeps in peace. Phi- 
 lippe has come to his senses rather late ; he told us 
 frankly that three months in the Luxembourg sobered 
 him. Monsieur Hochon is delighted with his conduct 
 here ; every one thinks highly of it. If he can be kept 
 a,wa} T from the temptations of Paris, he will end by 
 being a comfort to you." 
 
 Hearing these consolatory words Agathe's eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 Philippe played the saint to his mother, for he had 
 need of her. That wity politician did not wish to have 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 339 
 
 recourse to Cesarine unless he continued to be an object 
 of horror to Mademoiselle Brazier. He saw that Flore 
 had been thoroughly broken to harness by Max ; he 
 knew she was an essential part of his uncle's life, and 
 he greatly preferred to use her rather than send for the 
 ballet-girl, who might take it into her head to marry the 
 old man. Fouche advised Louis XVIII. to sleep in 
 Napoleon's sheets instead of granting the charter ; and 
 Philippe would have liked to remain in Gilet's sheets ; 
 but he was reluctant to risk the good reputation he had 
 made for himself in Berry. To take Max's place with 
 the Rabouilleuse would be as odious on his part as on 
 hers. He could, without discredit and by the laws of 
 nepotism, live in his uncle's house and at his uncle's 
 expense ; but he could not have Flore unless her char- 
 acter were whitewashed. Hampered by this difficulty, 
 and stimulated by the hope of finally getting hold of 
 the propert3 r , the idea came into his head of making 
 his uncle marry the Rabouilleuse. With this in view 
 he requested his mother to go and see the girl and treat 
 her in a sisterl}' manner. 
 
 "I must confess, my dear mother," he said, in a 
 canting tone, looking at Monsieur and Madame Hochon 
 who accompanied her, " that nry uncle's way of life 
 is not becoming ; he could, however, make Mademoi- 
 selle Brazier respected by the community if he chose. 
 Would n't it be far better for her to be Madame Rou- 
 get than the servant-mistress of an old bachelor? She 
 had better obtain a definite right to his property by a 
 marriage contract than threaten a whole family with 
 disinheritance. If 3*011, or Monsieur Hochon, or some 
 good priest would speak of the matter to both parties, 
 you might put a stop to a scandal which offends 
 
340 The Two Brothers. 
 
 decent people. Mademoiselle Brazier would be only 
 too happ}^ if you were to welcome her as a sister, and 
 I as an aunt." 
 
 On the morrow Agathe and Madame Hochon ap- 
 peared at Flore's bedside, and repeated to the sick 
 girl and to Ronget, the excellent sentiments expressed 
 by Philippe. Throughout Issoudun the colonel was 
 talked of as a man of noble character, especially 
 because of his conduct towards Flore. For a month, 
 the Rabouilleuse heard Goddet, her doctor, the in- 
 dividual who has paramount influence over a sick 
 person, the respectable Madame Hochon, moved by 
 religious principle, and Agathe, so gentle and pious, 
 all representing to her the advantages of a marriage 
 with Rouget. And when, attracted by the idea of be- 
 coming Madame Rouget, a dignified and virtuous bour- 
 geoise, she grew eager to recover, so that the marriage 
 might speedily be celebrated, it was not difficult to 
 make her understand she would not be allowed to 
 enter the family of the Rougets if she intended to turn 
 Philippe from its doors. 
 
 "Besides," remarked the doctor, "you really owe 
 him this good fortune. Max would never have allowed 
 3'ou to marry old Rouget. And," he added in her ear, 
 "if } T ou have children, you will revenge Max, for that 
 will disinherit the Bridaus." 
 
 Two months after the fatal duel in February, 1823, 
 the sick woman, urged by those about her, and im- 
 plored by Rouget, consented to receive Philippe, the 
 sight of whose scars made her weep, but whose soft- 
 ened and almost affectionate manner calmed her. By 
 Philippe's wish they were left alone together. 
 
 " My dear child," said the soldier. " It is I, who, 
 
The Two Brothers. 341 
 
 from the start, have advised your marriage with my 
 uncle ; if you consent, it will take place as soon as 
 you are quite recovered." 
 
 " So they tell me," she replied. 
 
 "Circumstances have compelled me to give you pain, 
 it is natural therefore that I should wish to do you all 
 the good I can. Wealth, respect, and a fatuity posi- 
 tion are worth more than what you have lost. You 
 would n't have been that fellow's wife long after my 
 uncle's death, for I happen to know, through friends of 
 his, that he intended to get rid of you. Come, my 
 dear, let us understand each other, and live happily. 
 You shall be my aunt, and nothing more than my aunt. 
 You will take care that my uncle does not forget me in 
 his will ; on U13- side, you shall see how well I will 
 have you treated in the marriage contract. Keep calm, 
 think it over, and we will talk of it later. All sensible 
 people, indeed the whole town, urge you to put an end 
 to your illegal position ; no one will blame you for 
 receiving me. It is well understood in the world that 
 interests go before feelings. B3' the da}' of your mar- 
 riage you will be handsomer than ever. The pallor of 
 illness has given you an air of distinction, and on my 
 honor, if my uncle did not love you so madly, }*ou 
 should be the wife of Colonel Bridau." 
 
 Philippe left the room, having dropped this hint into 
 Flore's mind to waken a vague idea of vengeance 
 which might please the girl, who did, in fact, feel a sort 
 of happiness as she saw this dreadful being at her feet. 
 In this scene Philippe repeated, in miniature, that of 
 Richard III. with the queen he had widowed. The 
 meaning of it is that personal calculation, hidden under 
 sentiment, has a powerful influence on the heart, and 
 
842 The Two Brothers. 
 
 is able to dissipate even genuine grief. This is how, 
 in individual life, Nature does that which in works of 
 genius is thought to be consummate art : she works by 
 self-interest, — the genius of money. 
 
 At the beginning of April, 1823, the hall of Jean- 
 Jacques Rouget's house was the scene of a splendid 
 dinner, given to celebrate the signing of the marriage 
 contract between Mademoiselle Flore Brazier and 
 the old bachelor. The guests were Monsieur Heron, 
 the four witnesses, Messieurs Mignonnet, Carpentier, 
 Hochon and Goddet, the ma} T or and the curate, 
 Agathe Bridau, Madame Hochon, and her friend Ma- 
 dame Borniche, two old ladies who laid down the law 
 to the societ}' of Issoudun. The bride was much im- 
 pressed by this concession, obtained by Philippe, and 
 intended by the two ladies as a mark of protection to 
 a repentant woman. Flore was in dazzling beaut}-. 
 The curate, who for the last fortnight had been in- 
 structing the ignorant crab-girl, was to allow her, on 
 the following da}-, to make her first communion. The 
 marriage was the text of the following pious article in 
 the " Journal du Cher," published at Bourges, and in 
 the M Journal de l'Indre," published at Chateauroux : 
 
 Issoudun. — The revival of religion is progressing in 
 Berry. Friends of the Church and all respectable persons 
 in this town were yesterday witnesses of a marriage cere- 
 mony by which a leading man of property put an end to a 
 scandalous connection, which began at the time when the 
 authority of religion was overthrown in this region. This 
 event, due to the enlightened zeal of the clergy of Issoudun 
 will, we trust, have imitators, and put a stop to marriages, 
 so-called, which have never been solemnized, and were only 
 contracted during the disastrous epoch of revolutionary rule. 
 
The Two Brothers. 343 
 
 One remarkable feature of the event to which we allude, is 
 the fact that it was brought about at the entreaty of a colonel 
 belonging to the old army, sent to our town by a sentence of 
 the Court of Peers, who may, in consequence, lose the inheri- 
 tnce of his uncle's property. Such disinterestedness is so 
 rare in these days that it deserves public mention. 
 
 By the marriage contract Rouget secured to Flore a 
 dower of one hundred thousand francs, and a life an- 
 il u it}* of thirty thousand more. 
 
 After the wedding, which was sumptuous, Agathe 
 returned to Paris the happiest of mothers, and told 
 Joseph and Desroches what she called the good news. 
 
 "Your son Philippe is too wily a man not to keep 
 his paw on that inheritance," said the lawyer, when he 
 had heard Madame Bridau to the end. "You and your 
 poor Joseph will never get one penny of your brother's 
 property." 
 
 - M You, and Joseph too, will always be unjust to that 
 poor boy," said the mother. " His conduct before the 
 Court of Peers was worthy of a statesman ; he suc- 
 ceeded in saving many heads. Philippe's errors came 
 from his great faculties being unemployed. He now 
 sees how faults of conduct injure the prospects of a man 
 who has his wa}' to make. He is ambitious ; that I am 
 sure of; and I am not the only one to predict his fu- 
 ture % Monsieur Hochon firmly believes that Philippe 
 has a noble destiny before him." 
 
 ' » Oh ! if he chooses to apply his perverted powers to 
 making his fortune, I have no doubt he will succeed : lie 
 is capable of everything ; and such fellows go fast and 
 far," said Desroches. 
 
 " Why do you suppose that he will not succeed by 
 honest means?" demanded Madame Bridau. 
 
344 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " You will see ! " exclaimed Desroches. " Fortunate 
 or unfortunate, Philippe will remain the man of the rue 
 Mazarin, the murderer of Madame Descoings, the 
 domestic thief. But don't worry yourself; he will 
 manage to appear honest to the world." 
 
 After breakfast, on the morning succeeding the mar- 
 riage, Philippe took Madame Rouget b}* the arm when 
 his uncle rose from table and went upstairs to dress, — 
 for the pair had come down, the one in her morning- 
 robe, and the other in his dressing-gown. 
 
 "My dear aunt," said the colonel, leading her into 
 the recess of a window, " } t ou now belong to the fam- 
 ily. Thanks to me, the law has tied the knot. Now, 
 no nonsense. I intend that you and I shall play above 
 board. I know the tricks you will try against me ; and 
 I shall watch you like a duenna. You will never go 
 out of this house except on 1113- arm ; and you will never 
 leave me. As to what passes within the house, damn 
 it, you '11 find me like a spider in the middle of his web. 
 Here is something," he continued, showing the bewil- 
 dered woman a letter, " which will prove to you that I 
 could, while 3 r ou were tying ill upstairs, unable to move 
 hand or foot, have turned you out of doors without a 
 penny. Read it." 
 
 He gave her the letter. 
 
 My dear Fellow, — Florentine, who has just made her 
 debut at the new Opera House in a pas de trois with Mariette 
 and Tullia, is thinking steadily about your affair, and so 
 is Florine, — who has finally given up Lousteau and taken 
 Nathan. That shrewd pair have found you a most delicious 
 little creature, — only seventeen, beautiful as an English 
 woman, demure as a "lady," up to all mischief, sly as 
 
The Two Brothers. 345 
 
 Desroches, faithful as Godeschal. Mariette is forming her, 
 so as to give you a fair chance. No woman could hold her 
 own against this little angel, who is a devil under her skin; 
 she can play any part you please; get complete possession of 
 your uncle, or drive him crazy with love. She has that 
 celestial look poor Coralie used to have; she can weep, — the 
 tones of her voice will draw a thousand-franc note from a 
 granite heart ; and the young mischief soaks up champagne 
 better than any of us. It is a precious discovery ; she is 
 under obligations to Mariette, and wants to pay them off. 
 After squandering the fortunes of two Englishmen, a Rus- 
 sian, and an Italian prince, Mademoiselle Esther is now in 
 poverty; give her ten thousand francs, that will satisfy her. 
 She has just remarked, laughing, that she has never yet 
 fricasseed a bourgeois, and it will get her hand in. Esther 
 is well known to Finot, Bixiou, and des Lupeaulx, in fact to 
 all our set. Ah ! if there were any real fortunes left in France, 
 she would be the greatest courtesan of modern times. 
 
 All the editorial staff, Nathan, Finot, Bixiou, etc., are now 
 joking the aforesaid Esther in a magnificent appartement just 
 arranged for Florine by old Lord Dudley (the real father of 
 de Marsav) ; the lively actress captured him by the dress of 
 her new role. Tullia is with the Due de Rhetore, Mariette 
 is still with the Due de Mauf rigneuse ; between them, they 
 will get your sentence remitted in time for the King's fete. 
 Bury your uncle under the roses before the Saint-Louis, 
 bring away the property, and spend a little of it with Esther 
 and your old friends, who sign this epistle in a body, to re- 
 mind you of them. 
 
 Nathan, Florine, Bixiou, Finot, Mariette, 
 Florentine, Giroudeau, Tullia. 
 
 The letter shook in the trembling hands of Madame 
 Rouget, and betrayed the terror of her mind and body. 
 The aunt dared not look at the nephew, who fixed his 
 eyes upon her with terrible meaning. 
 
346 The Two Brothers. 
 
 "I trust you," he said, "as you see; but I expect 
 some return. I have made you my aunt intending to 
 marry you some day. You are worth more to me than 
 Esther in managing my uncle. In a year from now, we 
 must be in Paris ; the only place where beauty really 
 lives. You will amuse yourself much better there than 
 here ; it is a perpetual carnival. I shall return to the 
 arnry, and become a general, and you will be a great 
 lad % y. There 's our future ; now work for it. But I 
 must have a pledge to bind this agreement. You are 
 to give me, within a month from now, a power of 
 attorn e}* from my uncle, which you must obtain under 
 pretence of relieving him of the fatigues of business. 
 Also, a month later, I must have a special power of 
 attorney to transfer the income in the Funds. When 
 that stands in my name, you and I have an equal in- 
 terest in marrying each other. There it all is, my 
 beautiful aunt, as plain as day. Between you and me 
 there must be no ambiguity. I can marry m3* aunt at 
 the end of a j-ear's widowhood ; but I could not marry 
 a disgraced girl." 
 
 He left the room without waiting for an answer. 
 When Vedie came in, fifteen minutes later, to clear the 
 table, she found her mistress pale and moist with per- 
 spiration, in spite of the season. Flore felt like a 
 woman who had fallen to the bottom of a precipice ; 
 the future loomed black before her ; and on its black- 
 ness, in the far distance, were shapes of monstrous 
 things, indistinctly perceptible, and terrifying. She felt 
 the damp chill of vaults, instinctive fear of the man 
 crushed her ; and yet a voice cried in her ear that she 
 deserved to have him for her master. She was helpless 
 against her fate. Flore Brazier had had a room of her 
 
 
The Two Brothers. 347 
 
 own in Rouget's house ; but Madame Rouget belonged 
 to her husband, and was now deprived of the free-will 
 of a servant-mistress. In the horrible situation in which 
 she now found herself, the hope of having a child came 
 into her mind ; but she soon recognized its impossi- 
 bility. The marriage was to Jean-Jacques what the 
 second marriage of Louis XII. was to that king. The 
 incessant watchfulness of a man like Philippe, who had 
 nothing to do and never quitted his post of observa- 
 tion, made an} T form of vengeance impossible. Benjamin 
 was his innocent and devoted sp}\ The Vedie trembled 
 before him. Flore felt herself deserted and utterly 
 helpless. She began to fear death. Without knowing 
 how Philippe might manage to kill her, she felt certain 
 that whenever he suspected her of pregnane}' her doom 
 would be sealed. The sound of that voice, the veiled 
 glitter of that gambler's e}*e, the slightest movement of 
 the soldier, who treated her with a brutality that was stilt 
 polite, made her shudder. As to the power of attorney 
 demanded by the ferocious colonel, who in the eyes of 
 all Issoudun was a hero, he had it as soon as he wanted 
 it ; for Flore fell under the man's dominion as France 
 had fallen under that of Napoleon. 
 
 Like a butterfly whose feet are caught in the incan- 
 descent wax of a taper, Rouget rapidly dissipated his 
 remaining strength. In presence of that decay, the 
 nephew remained as cold and impassible as the diplo- 
 matists of 1814 during the convulsions of imperial 
 France. 
 
 Philippe, who did not believe in Napoleon II., now 
 wrote the following letter to the minister of war, which 
 Mariette made the Due de Maufrigneuse convej- to that 
 functionary : — 
 
348 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Monseigneur, — Napoleon is no more. I desired to re- 
 main faithful to him according to my oath ; now I am free 
 to offer my services to His Majesty. If your Excellency 
 deigns to explain my conduct to His Majesty, the King 
 will see that it is in keeping with the laws of honor, if not 
 with those of his government. The King, who thought it 
 proper that his aide-de-camp, General Rapp, should mourn 
 his former master, will no doubt feel indulgently for me. 
 Napoleon was my benefactor. 
 
 I therefore entreat your Excellency to take into considera- 
 tion the request I make for employment in my proper rank ; 
 and I beg to assure you of my entire submission. The King 
 will find in me a faithful subject. 
 
 Deign to accept the assurance of respect with which I have 
 the honor to be, 
 
 Your Excellency's very submissive and 
 
 Very humble servant, 
 
 Philippe Bridau. 
 Formerly chief of squadron in the dragoons of the Guard; 
 officer of the Legion of honor; now under police surveil- 
 lance at Issoudun. 
 
 To this letter was joined a request for permission to 
 go to Paris on urgent famil}- business ; and Monsieur 
 Mouilleron annexed letters from the mayor, the sub- 
 prefect, and the commissary of police at Issoudun, all 
 bestowing many praises on Philippe's conduct, and 
 dwelling upon the newspaper article relating to his 
 uncle's marriage. 
 
 Two weeks later, Philippe received the desired per- 
 mission, and a letter, in which the minister of war 
 informed him that, by order of the King, he was, as 
 a preliminary favor, reinstated lieutenant-colonel in the 
 royal army. 
 
The Two Brothers. 349 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Bridau returned to Paris, tak- 
 ing with him his aunt and the helpless Rouget, whom 
 he escorted, three days after their arrival, to the 
 Treasuiy, where Jean-Jacques signed the transfer of 
 the income, which henceforth became Philippe's. The 
 exhausted old man and the Rabouilleuse were now 
 plunged b} T their nephew into the excessive dissipa- 
 tions of the dangerous and restless society of actresses, 
 journalists, artists, and the equivocal women among 
 whom Philippe had already wasted his 3*outh ; where 
 old Rouget found excitements that soon after killed 
 him. Instigated by Giroudeau, Lolotte, one of the 
 handsomest of the Opera ballet- girls, was the ami- 
 able assassin of the old man. Rouget died after a 
 splendid supper at Florentine's, and Lolotte threw the 
 blame of his death upon a slice of pate de foie gras ; 
 as the Strasburg masterpiece could make no defence, 
 it was considered settled that the old man died of 
 indigestion. 
 
 Madame Rouget was in her element in the midst 
 of this excessively decollete society ; but Philippe gave 
 her in charge of Mariette, and that monitress did not 
 allow the widow — whose mourning was diversified with 
 a few amusements — to commit any actual follies. 
 
 In October, 1823, Philippe returned to Issoudun, fur- 
 nished with a power of attorney from his aunt, to liqui- 
 date the estate of his uncle ; a business that was soon 
 
350 The Tivo Brothers. 
 
 over, for he returned to Paris in March, 1824, with six- 
 teen hundred thousand francs, — the net proceeds of old 
 Rouget's property, not counting the precious pictures, 
 I which had never left Monsieur Hochon's hands. Philippe 
 put the whole property into the hands of Mongenod and 
 Sons, where 3*oung Baruch Borniche was employed, and 
 on whose solvency and business probity old Hochon 
 had given him satisfactory assurances. This house took 
 his sixteen hundred thousand francs at six per cent per 
 annum, on condition of three months' notice in case of 
 the withdrawal of the money. 
 
 One fine day, Philippe went to see his mother, and 
 invited her to be present at his marriage, which was 
 witnessed by Giroudeau, Finot, Nathan, and Bixiou. 
 By the terms of the marriage contract, the widow 
 Rouget, whose portion of her late husband's property 
 amounted to a million of francs, secured to her future 
 husband her whole fortune in case she died without 
 children. No invitations to the wedding were sent out, 
 nor any billets de f aire part ; Philippe had his designs. 
 He lodged his wife in an appartement in the rue Saint- 
 Georges, which he bought read}*- furnished from Lolotte. 
 Madame Bridau the }'ounger thought it delightful, and 
 her husband rarely set foot in it. Without her knowl- 
 edge, Philippe purchased in the rue de Cliclry, at a 
 time when no one suspected the value which propert}' 
 in that quarter would one day acquire, a magnificent 
 hotel for two hundred and fifty thousand francs ; of 
 which he paid one hundred and fifty thousand down, 
 taking two years to pay the remainder. He spent large 
 sums in altering the interior and furnishing it ; in fact, 
 he put his income for two years into this outlay. The 
 pictures, now restored, and estimated at three hundred 
 
 I 
 
The Two Brothers. 351 
 
 thousand francs, appeared in such surroundings in all 
 their beauty. 
 
 The accession of Charles X. had brought into still 
 greater court favor the family of the Due de Chaulieu, 
 whose eldest son, the Due de Rhetore, was in the 
 habit of seeing Philippe at Tullia's. Under Charles X., 
 the elder branch of the Bourbons, believing itself per- 
 manently seated on the throne, followed the advice pre- 
 viously given b} T Marshal Gouvion-Saint-CjT to encourage 
 the adherence of the soldiers of the Empire. Philippe, 
 who had no doubt made invaluable revelations as to 
 the conspiracies of 1820 and 1822, was appointed 
 lieutenant-colonel in the regiment of the Due de Mau- 
 frigneuse. That fascinating nobleman thought himself 
 bound to protect the man from whom he had taken 
 Mariette. The corps-de-ballet went for something, 
 therefore, in the appointment. Moreover, it was de- 
 cided in the private councils of Charles X. to give a 
 faint tinge of liberalism to the surroundings of Mon- 
 seigneur the Dauphin. Philippe, now a sort of equerry 
 to the Due de Maufrigneuse, was presented not only to 
 the Dauphin, but also to the Dauphine, who was not 
 averse to brusque and soldierly characters who had 
 become noted for a past fidelity. Philippe thoroughly 
 understood the part the Dauphin had to play ; and he 
 turned the first exhibition of that spurious liberalism to 
 his own profit, b}~ getting himself appointed aide-de- 
 camp to a marshal who stood well at court. 
 
 In January, 1827, Philippe, who was now promoted 
 to the Royal Guard as lieutenant-colonel in a regiment 
 then commanded b} T the Due de Maufrigneuse, solicited 
 the honor of being ennobled. Under the Restoration, 
 nobilit}- became a sort of perquisite to the roturiers 
 
352 The Two Brothers. 
 
 who served in the Guard. Colonel Bridau had lately 
 bought the estate of Brambourg, and he now asked to 
 be allowed to entail it under the title of count. This 
 favor was accorded through the influence of his many 
 intimacies in the highest rank of society, where he now 
 appeared in all the luxury of horses, carriages, and liv- 
 eries ; in short, with the surroundings of a great lord. 
 As soon as he saw himself gazetted in the Almanack 
 under the title of Comte de Brambourg, he began to 
 frequent the house of a lieutenant-general of artillery, 
 the Comte de Soulanges. 
 
 Insatiable in his wants, and backed by the mistresses 
 of influential men, Philippe now solicited the honor of 
 being one of the Dauphin's aides-de-camp. lie had the 
 audacity to say to the Dauphine that " an old soldier, 
 wounded on many a battle-field and who knew real war- 
 fare, might, on occasion, be serviceable to Monseigneur." 
 Philippe, who could take the tone of all varieties of 
 sycophancy, became in the regions of the highest social 
 life exactly what the position required him to be ; just 
 as at Issoudun, he had copied the respectability of 
 Mignonnet. He had, moreover, a fine, establishment 
 and gave fetes and dinners ; admitting none of his old 
 friends to his house if he thought their position in life 
 likely to compromise his future. He was pitiless to the 
 companions of his former debauches, and curtly refused 
 Bixiou when that lively satirist asked him to sa} r a word 
 in favor of Giroudeau, who wanted to re-enter the army 
 after the desertion of Florentine. 
 
 44 The man has neither manners nor morals," said 
 Philippe. 
 
 44 Ha! did he say that of me?" cried Giroudeau, 
 44 of me, who helped him to get rid of his uncle ! " 
 
The Two Brothers. 353 
 
 " We'll pa}' him off yet," said Bixiou. 
 
 Philippe intended to marry Mademoiselle Amelie de 
 Soulanges, and become a general, in command of a 
 regiment of the Royal Guard. He asked so many 
 favors that, to keep him quiet, the}' made him a Com- 
 mander of the Legion of honor, and also Commander 
 of the order of Saint Louis. One rainy evening, as 
 Agathe and Joseph were returning home along the 
 muddy streets, they met Philippe in full uniform, be- 
 dizened with orders, leaning back in a corner of a hand- 
 some coupe lined with yellow silk, whose armorial 
 bearings were surmounted with a count's coronet. He 
 was on his way to a fete at the Elysee-Bourbon ; the 
 wheels splashed his mother and brother as he waved 
 them a patronizing greeting. 
 
 "He's going it, that fellow!" said Joseph to his 
 mother. "Nevertheless, he might send us something 
 better than mud in our faces." 
 
 44 He has such a fine position, in such high society, 
 that we ought not to blame him for forgetting us," said 
 Madame Bridau. " When a man rises to so great a 
 height, he has man}' obligations to repay, many sacri- 
 fices to make ; it is natural he should not come to see 
 us, though he may think of us all the same." 
 
 4 'My dear fellow," said the Due de Maufrigneuse 
 one evening, to the new Comte de Brambourg, '■* I am 
 sure that your addresses will be favorably received ; but 
 in order to marry Amelie de Soulanges, you must be 
 free to do so. What have you done with your wife ? " 
 
 44 My wife?" said Philippe, with a gesture, look, and 
 accent which Frederick Lemaitre was inspired to use in 
 one of his most terrible parts. 44 Alas ! I have the mel- 
 ancholy certainty of losing her. She has not a week to 
 
 23 
 
354 The Two Brothers. 
 
 live. My dear duke, } r ou don't know what it is to marry 
 beneath 30U. A woman who was a cook, and has the 
 tastes of a cook ! who dishonors me — ah ! I am much 
 to be pitied. I have had the honor to explain my posi- 
 tion to Madame la Dauphine. At the time of the mar- 
 riage, it was a question of saving to the family a million 
 of francs which my uncle had left by will to that person. 
 Happily, my wife took to drinking ; at her death, I 
 come into possession of that million, which is now in 
 the hands of Mongenod and Sons. I have thirty thou- 
 sand francs a year in the five per cents, and m}* landed 
 property, which is entailed, brings me in forty thousand 
 more. If, as I am led to suppose, Monsieur de Sou- 
 langes gets a marshal's baton, I am on the high-road, 
 with my title of Comte de Brambourg, to becoming 
 general and peer of France. That will be the proper 
 end of an aide-de-camp of the Dauphin." 
 
 After the Salon of 1823, one of the leading painters 
 of the da}*, a most excellent man, obtained the manage- 
 ment of a lotter} T -office near the Markets, for the mother 
 of Joseph Bridau. Agathe was fortunately able, soon 
 after, to exchange it on equal terms with the incumbent 
 of another office, situated in the rue de Seine, in a house 
 where Joseph was able to have his atelier. The widow 
 now hired an agent herself, and was no longer an ex- 
 pense to her son. And yet, as late as 1828, though she 
 was the directress of an excellent office which she owed 
 entirety to Joseph's fame, Madame Bridau still had no 
 belief in that fame, which was hotly contested, as all 
 true glor} T ever will be. The great painter, struggling 
 with his genius, had enormous wants ; he did not earn 
 enough to pa}' for the luxuries which his relations to 
 
The Two Brothers. 355 
 
 soeiet}', and his distinguished position in the young 
 School of Art demanded. Though powerfully sustained 
 by his friends of the Cenacle and by Mademoiselle des 
 Touches, he did not please the Bourgeois. That being, 
 from whom comes the mone}* of these days, never unties 
 its purse-strings for genius that is called in question ; 
 unfortunately, Joseph had the classics and the Institute, 
 and the critics who cry up those two powers, against 
 him. The brave artist, though backed by Gros and 
 Gerard, by whose influence he was decorated after the 
 Salon of 1827, obtained few orders. If the ministry of 
 the interior and the King's household were with difficult}' 
 induced to buy some of his greatest pictures, the shop- 
 keepers and the rich foreigners noticed them still less. 
 Moreover, Joseph gave way rather too much, as we 
 must all acknowledge, to imaginative fancies, and that 
 produced a certain inequality in his work which his ene- 
 mies made use of to deny his talent. 
 
 4 'High art is at a low ebb," said his friend Pierre 
 Grassou, who made daubs to suit the taste of the bour- 
 geoisie, in whose appartements fine paintings were at a 
 discount. 
 
 u You ought to have a whole cathedral to decorate ; 
 that's what you want," declared Schinner ; u then you 
 would silence criticism with a master-stroke." 
 
 Such speeches, which alarmed the good Agathe,'only 
 corroborated the judgment she had long since formed 
 upon Philippe and Joseph. Facts sustained that judg- 
 ment in the mind of a woman who had never ceased to 
 be a provincial. Philippe, her favorite child, was he not 
 the great man of the family at last? in his early errors 
 she saw only the ebullitions of youth. Joseph, to the 
 merit of whose productions she was insensible, for she 
 
356 Tlie Two Brothers. 
 
 saw them too long in process of gestation to admire them 
 when finished, seemed to her no more advanced in 1828 
 than he was in 1816. Poor Joseph owed money, and 
 was bowed down b} r the burden of debt ; he had chosen, 
 she felt, a worthless career that made him no return. 
 She could not conceive wiry they had given him the 
 cross of the Legion of honor. Philippe, on the other 
 hand, rich enough to cease gambling, a guest at the 
 fetes of Madame, the brilliant colonel who at all reviews 
 and in all processions appeared before her e3'es in splen- 
 did uniforms, with his two crosses on his breast, realized 
 all her maternal dreams. One such da} T of public cere- 
 mony effaced from Agathe's mind the horrible sight of 
 Philippe's misery on the Quai de l'Ecole ; on that day 
 he passed his mother at the self-same spot, in atten- 
 dance on the Dauphin, with plumes in his shako, and 
 his pelisse gorgeous with gold and fur. Agathe, who to 
 her artist son was now a sort of devoted gray sister, 
 felt herself the mother of none but the dashing aide-de- 
 camp to his Royal Highness, the Dauphin of France. 
 Proud of Philippe, she felt he made the ease and hap- 
 piness of her life, — forgetting that the lotte^-offiee, 
 b} r which she was enabled to live at all, came through 
 Joseph. 
 
 One day Agathe noticed that her poor artist was 
 more worried than usual by the bill of his color-man, 
 and she determined, though cursing his profession in 
 her heart, to free him from his debts. The poor woman 
 kept the house with the proceeds of her office, and took 
 care never to ask Joseph for a farthing. Consequent^' 
 she had no money of her own ; but she relied on 
 Philippe's good heart and well-filled purse. For three 
 years she had waited in expectation of his coming to 
 
The Two Brothers. 357 
 
 see her ; she now imagined that if she made an appeal 
 to him he would bring some enormous sum ; and her 
 thoughts dwelt on the happiness she should feel in 
 giving it to Joseph, whose judgment of his brother, 
 like that of Madame Descoings, was so unfair. 
 
 Saying nothing to Joseph, she wrote the following 
 letter to Philippe : — 
 
 To Monsieur le comte de Brambourg: 
 
 My dear Philippe, — You have not given the least little 
 word of remembrance to your mother for five years. That 
 is not right. You should remember the past, if only for the 
 sake of your excellent brother. Joseph is now in need of 
 money, and you are floating in wealth; he works, while you 
 are flying from fete to fete. You now possess, all to your- 
 self, the property of my brother. Little Borniche tells me 
 you cannot have less than two hundred thousand francs a 
 year. Well, then, come and see Joseph. During your visit, 
 slip into the skull a few thousand-franc notes. Philippe, 
 you owe them to us; nevertheless, your brother will feel 
 grateful to you, not to speak of the happiness you will give 
 
 Your mother, 
 Agathe Bridau, nee Rouget. 
 
 Two da} T s later the concierge brought to the atelier, 
 where poor Agathe was breakfasting with Joseph, the 
 following terrible letter : — 
 
 My dear Mother, — A man does not marry a Made- 
 moiselle Amelie de Soulanges without the purse of For- 
 tunatus, if under the name of Comte de Brambourg he 
 hides that of 
 
 Your son, 
 
 Philippe Bridau. 
 
 As Agathe fell half-fainting on the sofa, the letter 
 dropped to the floor. The slight noise made by the 
 
358 The Two Brothers. 
 
 paper, and the smothered but dreadful exclamation 
 which escaped Agathe startled Joseph, who had for- 
 gotten his mother for a moment and was vehemently 
 rubbing in a sketch ; he leaned his head round the 
 edge of his canvas to see what had happened. The 
 sight of his mother stretched on the floor made him 
 drop palette and brushes, and rush to lift what seemed 
 a lifeless body. He took Agathe in his arms and car- 
 ried her to her own bed, and sent the servant for his 
 friend Horace Bianchon. As soon as he could ques- 
 tion his mother she told him of her letter to Philippe, 
 and of the answer she had received from him. The 
 artist went to his atelier and picked up the letter, 
 whose concise brutality had broken the tender heart of 
 the poor mother, and shattered the edifice of trust her 
 maternal preference had erected. When Joseph re- 
 turned to her bedside he had the good feeling to be 
 silent. He did not speak of his brother in the three 
 weeks during which — we will not say the illness, but — 
 the death agon}' of the poor woman lasted. Bianchon, 
 who came every day and watched his patient with the 
 devotion of a true friend, told Joseph the truth on the 
 first day of her seizure. 
 
 u At her age," he said, " and under the circum- 
 stances which have happened to her, all we can hope to 
 do is to make her death as little painful as possible-" 
 
 She herself felt so surely called of God that she 
 asked the next da} T for the religious help of old Abbe 
 Loraux, who had been her confessor for more than 
 twenty-two years. As soon as she was alone with him, 
 and had poured her griefs into his heart, she said — as 
 she had said to Madame Hochon, and had repeated to 
 herself again and again throughout her life : — 
 
The Two Brothers. 359 
 
 kt What have I done to displease God? Have I not 
 loved Him with all nw soul? Have I wandered from 
 the path of grace ? What is my sin ? Can I be guilty 
 of wrong when I know not what it is? Have I the 
 time to repair it? " ' 
 
 " No," said the old man, in a gentle voice. " Alas ! 
 your life seems to have been pure and your soul spot- 
 less ; but the eye of God, poor afflicted creature, is 
 keener than that of his ministers. I see the truth too 
 late ; for you have misled even me." 
 
 Hearing these words from lips that had never spoken 
 other than peaceful and pleasant words to her, Agathe 
 rose suddenly in her bed and opened her eyes wide, 
 with terror and distress. 
 
 ' k Tell me ! tell me ! " she cried. 
 
 "Be comforted," said the priest. "Your punish- 
 ment is a proof that you will receive pardon. God 
 chastens his elect. Woe to those whose misdeeds meet 
 with fortunate success ; they will be kneaded again in 
 humanity until they in their turn are sorely punished 
 for simple errors, and are brought to the maturity of 
 celestial fruits. Your life, my daughter, has been one 
 long error. You have fallen into the pit which you 
 dug for yourself ; we fail ever on the side we have our- 
 selves weakened. You gave your heart to an unnat- 
 ural son, in whom you made your gioiy, and you have 
 misunderstood the child who is your true glory. You 
 have been so deeply unjust that you never even saw 
 the striking contrast between the brothers. You owe 
 the comfort of your life to Joseph, while 3-our other 
 son has pillaged you repeatedly. The poor son, who 
 loves you with no return of equal tenderness, gives you 
 ail the comfort that your life has had ; the rich son, 
 
360 The Two Brothers. . 
 
 who never thinks of 3-011, despises 3-ou and desires your 
 death — " 
 
 " Oh ! no," she cried. 
 
 4 'Yes," resumed the priest, " yowv humble position 
 stands in the way of his proud hopes. Mother, these 
 are your sins ! Woman, 3-our sorrows and 3-our an- 
 guish foretell that 30U shall know the peace of God. 
 Your son Joseph is so noble that his tenderness has 
 never been lessened hy the injustice 3'our maternal 
 preferences have done him. Love him now ; give him 
 all your heart during your remaining da3*s ; pra3 T for 
 him, as I shall pray for 30U." 
 
 The e3^es of the mother, opened by so firm a hand, 
 took in with one retrospective glance the whole course 
 of her life. Illumined b3 T this flash of light, she saw her 
 involuntary wrong-doing and burst into tears. The old 
 priest was so deeply moved at the repentance of a being 
 who had sinned solety through ignorance, that he left 
 the room hastil3 T lest she should see his pity. 
 
 Joseph returned to his mother's room about two 
 hours after her confessor had left her. He had been 
 to a friend to borrow the necessary money to pa3' his 
 most pressing debts, and he came in on tiptoe, thinking 
 that his mother was asleep. He sat down in an arm- 
 chair without her seeing him ; but he sprang up with 
 a cold chill running through him as he heard her sa3 T , 
 in a voice broken with sobs, — 
 
 ' ' Will he forgive me ? " 
 
 " What is it, mother? " he exclaimed, shocked at the 
 stricken face of the poor woman, and thinking the words 
 must mean the delirium that precedes death. 
 
 " Ah, Joseph! can 30U pardon me, my child?" she 
 cried. 
 
The Two Brothers. 361 
 
 " For what? " he said. 
 
 44 1 have never loved \ou as you deserved to be 
 loved." 
 
 "Oh, what an accusation!" he cried. " Not loved 
 me? For seven years have we not lived alone together? 
 All these seven years have you not taken care of me 
 and done everything for me ? Do I not see you every 
 day, — hear your voice ? Are 3011 not the gentle and 
 indulgent companion of my miserable life? You don't 
 understand painting ? — Ah ! but that 's a gift not always 
 given. I was sajing to Grassou only yesterday: 
 4 What comforts me in the midst of my trials is that I 
 have such a good mother. She is all that an artist's wife 
 should be ; she sees to everything ; she takes care of 
 m} r material wants without ever troubling or worrying 
 me."' 
 
 44 No, Joseph, no ; } t ou have loved me, but I have not 
 returned you love for love. Ah ! would that I could live 
 a little longer — Give me your hand." 
 
 Agathe took her son's hand, kissed it, held it on her 
 heart, and looked in his face a long time, — letting him 
 see the azure of her eyes resplendent with a tenderness 
 she had hitherto bestowed on Philippe only. The 
 painter, well fitted to judge of expression, was so struck 
 by the change, and saw so plainly how the heart of his 
 mother had opened to him, that he took her in his 
 arms, and held her for some moments to his heart, 
 crying out like one beside himself, — 44 My mother! 
 oh, my mother ! " 
 
 44 Ah ! I feel that I am forgiven ! " she said. 44 God 
 will confirm the child's pardon of its mother." 
 
 44 You must be calm: don't torment yourself; hear 
 me. I feel myself loved enough in this one moment for 
 
362 The Two Brothers. 
 
 all the past," he said, as he laid her back upon the 
 pillows. 
 
 During the two weeks' struggle between life and death, 
 there glowed such love in every look and gesture and 
 impulse of the soul' of the pious creature, that each effu- 
 sion of her feelings seemed like the expression of a life- 
 time. The mother thought only of the son ; she herself 
 counted for nothing ; sustained b}* love, she was una- 
 ware of her sufferings. She used the innocent words of 
 childhood. D'Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, 
 Pierre Grassou, and Bianchon often kept Joseph com- 
 pany, and she heard them talking art in a low voice in a 
 corner of her room. 
 
 "Oh, how I wish I knew what color is!" she ex- 
 claimed one evening as she heard them discussing one 
 of Joseph's pictures. 
 
 Joseph, on his side, was sublimely devoted to his 
 mother. He never left her chamber ; answered tender- 
 ness by tenderness, cherishing her upon his heart. The 
 spectacle was never afterwards forgotten by his friends ; 
 and they themselves, a band of brothers in talent and 
 nobility of nature, were to Joseph and his mother all 
 that they should have been, — friends who prayed, and 
 truly wept ; not saying prayers and shedding tears, but 
 one with their friend in thought and action. Joseph, 
 inspired as much by feeling as by genius, divined in 
 the occasional expression of his mother's face a desire 
 that was deep hidden in her heart, and he said one 
 day to d'Arthez, — 
 
 M She has loved that brigand Philippe too well not to 
 want to see him before she dies." 
 
 Joseph begged Bixiou, who frequented the Bohemian 
 regions where Philippe was still occasionally to be found, 
 
The Two Brothers. 363 
 
 to persuade that shameless son to play, if only out of 
 pity, a little comedy of tenderness which might wrap 
 the mother's heart in a winding-sheet of illusive happi- 
 ness. Bixiou, in his capacity as an observing and 
 misanthropical scoffer, desired nothing better than to 
 undertake such a mission. When he had made known 
 Madame Bridau's condition to the Comte de Brambourg, 
 who received him in a bedroom hung with yellow dam- 
 ask, the colonel laughed. 
 
 "What the devil do you want me to do there?" he 
 cried. " The only service the poor woman can render 
 me is to die as soon as she can ; she would be rather 
 a sorry figure at m} T marriage with Mademoiselle de 
 Soulanges. The less my family is seen, the better my 
 position. You can easily understand that I should like 
 to bury the name of Bridau under all the monuments 
 in Pere-Lachaise. My brother irritates me by bringing 
 the name into publicity. You are too knowing not to 
 see the situation as I do. Look at it as if it were your 
 own : if you were a deputy*, with a tongue like yours, 
 you would be as much feared as Chauvelin ; you would 
 be made Comte Bixiou, and director of the Beaux- Arts. 
 Once there, how should you like it if your grandmother 
 Descoings were to turn up? Would you want that 
 worthy woman, who looked like a Madame Saint-Leon, 
 to be hanging on to 3011? Would you. give her an arm 
 in the Tuileries, and present her to the noble family 
 you were trying to enter? Damn it, you'd wish her 
 six feet under ground, in a leaden night-gown. Come, 
 breakfast with me, and let us talk of something else. 
 I am a parvenu, my dear fellow, and I know it. I don't 
 choose that my swaddling-clothes shall be seen. Mj^ 
 son will be more fortunate than I ; he will be a great 
 
364 The Two Brothers. 
 
 lord. The scamp will wish me dead ; I expect it, — or 
 he won't be my son." 
 
 He rang the bell, and ordered the servant to serve 
 breakfast. 
 
 "The fashionable world wouldn't see you in your 
 mother's bedroom," said Bixiou. " What would it 
 cost you to seem to love the poor woman for a few 
 hours?" 
 
 " Whew ! " cried Philippe, winking. M So you come 
 from them, do you? I'm an old camel, who knows all 
 about genuflections. My mother makes the excuse of 
 her last illness to get something out of me for Joseph. 
 No, thank you ! " 
 
 When Bixiou related this scene to Joseph, the poor 
 painter was chilled to the very soul. 
 
 " Does Philippe know I am ill?" asked Agathe in a 
 piteous tone, the day after Bixiou had rendered an ac- 
 count of his fruitless errand. 
 
 Joseph left the room, suffocating with emotion. The 
 Abbe Loraux, who was sitting by the bedside of his 
 penitent, took her hand and pressed it, and then he 
 answered, "Alas! my child, you have never had but 
 one son." 
 
 The words, which Agathe understood but too well, 
 conveyed a shock which was the beginning of the end. 
 She died twenty hours later. 
 
 In the delirium which preceded death, the words, 
 " Whom does Philippe take after?" escaped her. 
 
 Joseph followed his mother to the grave alone. Phi- 
 lippe had gone, on business it was said, to Orleans ; 
 in reality, he was driven from Paris by the following 
 letter, which Joseph wrote to him a moment after their 
 mother had breathed her last sigh : — 
 
The Two Brothers. 865 
 
 Monster! my poor mother has died of the shock your 
 letter caused her. Wear mourning, but pretend illness; I 
 will not suffer her assassin to stand at my side before her 
 coffin. 
 
 Joseph B. 
 
 The painter, who no longer had the heart to paint, 
 though his bitter grief sorely needed the mechanical 
 distraction which labor is wont to give, was surrounded 
 by friends who agreed with one another never to leave 
 him entirely alone. Thus it happened that Bixiou, who 
 loved Joseph as much as a satirist can love any one, 
 was sitting in the atelier with a group of other friends 
 about two weeks after Agathe's funeral. The servant 
 entered with a letter, brought by an old woman, she 
 said, who was waiting below for the answer. 
 
 Monsieur, — To you, whom I scarcely dare to call my 
 brother, I am forced to address myself, if only on account of 
 the name I bear. — 
 
 Joseph turned the page and read the signature. The 
 name ' ' Comtesse Flore de Brambourg " made him 
 shudder. He foresaw some new atrocity on the part 
 of his brother. 
 
 " That brigand," he cried, " is the devil's own. And 
 he calls himself a man of honor! And he wears a lot 
 of crosses on his breast ! And he struts about at court 
 instead of being bastinadoed ! And the scoundrel is 
 called Monsieur le Comte ! " 
 
 "There are many like him," said Bixiou. 
 
 "After all," said Joseph, "the Rabouilleuse de- 
 serves her fate, whatever it is. She is not worth pity- 
 ing; she'd have had my neck wrung like a chicken's 
 without so much as saying, ' He 's innocent.' " 
 
366 The Two Brothers. 
 
 Joseph flung away the letter, but Bixiou caught it in 
 the air, and read it aloud, as follows : — 
 
 Is it decent that the Comtesse Bridau de Brambourg 
 should die in a hospital, no matter what may have been her 
 faults? If such is to be my fate, if such is your determina- 
 tion and that of monsieur le comte, so be it; but if so, will 
 you, who are the friend of Doctor Bianchon, ask him for a 
 permit to let me enter a hospital? 
 
 The person who carries this letter has been eleven consecu- 
 tive days to the hotel de Brambourg, rue de Clichy, without 
 getting any help from my husband. The poverty in which 
 I now am prevents my employing a lawyer to make a legal 
 demand for what is due to me, that I may die with decency. 
 Nothing can save me, I know that. In case you are unwill- 
 ing to see your unhappy sister-in-law, send me, at least, the 
 money to end my days. Your brother desires my death ; he 
 has always desired it. He warned me that he knew three 
 ways of killing a woman, but I had not the sense to foresee 
 the one he has employed. 
 
 In case you will consent to relieve me, and judge for your- 
 self as to the misery in which I now am, I live in the rue du 
 Houssay, at the corner of the rue Chantereine, on the fifth 
 floor. If I cannot pay my rent to-morrow I shall be put out 
 — and then, where can I go? May I call myself 
 Your sister-in-law, 
 
 Comtesse Flore de Brambourg. 
 
 " What a pit of infamy ! " cried Joseph ; •• there is 
 something under it all." 
 
 " Let us send for the woman who brought the 
 letter; we may get the preface of the story," said 
 Bixiou. 
 
 The woman presently appeared, looking, as Bixiou 
 observed, like perambulating rags. She was, in fact, 
 a mass of old gowns, one on top of another, fringed 
 
The Two Brothers. 367 
 
 with mud on account of the weather, the whole mounted 
 on two thick legs with heav} 7 feet which were ill- covered 
 by ragged stockings and shoes from whose cracks the 
 water oozed upon the floor. Above the mound of rags 
 rose a head like those that Charlet has given to his 
 scavenger- women, caparisoned with a filthy bandanna 
 handkerchief slit in the folds. 
 
 44 What is 3 T our name?" said Joseph, while Bixiou 
 sketched her, leaning on an umbrella belonging to the 
 year II. of the Republic. 
 
 44 Madame Gruget, at } T our service. I've seen better 
 dajs, my young gentleman," she said to Bixiou, whose 
 laugh affronted her. 4 4 If my poor girl had n't had the 
 ill-luck to love some one too much, } t ou would n't see 
 me what I am. She drowned herself in the river, my 
 poor Ida, — saving your presence ! I 've had the folly 
 to nurse up a quaterne, and that 's why, at seventy- 
 seven years of age, I 'in obliged to take care of sick 
 folks for ten sous a day, and go — " 
 
 44 — without clothes?" said Bixiou. 44 My grand- 
 mother nursed up a trey, but she dressed herself 
 properly." 
 
 44 Out of my ten sous I have to pay for a lodging — " 
 44 What 's the matter with the lady you are nursing? " 
 44 In the first place, she has n't got any money ; and 
 then she has a disease that scares the doctors. She 
 owes me for sixty days' nursing ; that 's wiry I keep on 
 nursing her. The husband, who is a count, — she is 
 really a countess, — will no doubt pay me when she is 
 dead ; and so I 've lent her all I had. And 1 now I 
 have n't anything ; all I did have has gone to the pawn- 
 brokers. She owes me forty T -seven francs and twelve 
 sous, beside thirty- francs for the nursing. She w^nts 
 
 
 
) 
 
 368 Tlie Two Brothers. 
 
 to kill herself with charcoal. * I tell her it ain't right ; 
 and, indeed, I 've had to get the concierge to look after 
 her while I 'm gone, or she 's likely to jump out of the 
 window." 
 
 44 But what 's the matter with her? " said Joseph. 
 
 "Ah! monsieur, the doctor from the Sisters' hos- 
 pital came ; but as to the disease," said Madame 
 Gruget, assuming a modest air, " he told me she must 
 go to the hospital. The case is hopeless." 
 
 " Let us go and see her," said Bixiou. 
 
 44 Here," said Joseph to the woman, kt take these ten 
 francs." 
 
 Plunging his hand into the skull and taking out all 
 his remaining mone}', the painter called a coach from 
 the rue Mazarin and went to find Bianchon, who was 
 fortunate^ at home. Meantime Bixiou went off' at full 
 speed to the rue de Bussy, after Desroches. The four 
 friends reached Flore's retreat in the rue du Houssay 
 an hour later. 
 
 " That Mephistopheles on horseback, named Philippe 
 Bridau," said Bixiou, as they mounted the staircase, 
 44 has sailed his boat cleverly to get rid of his wife. 
 You know our old friend Lousteau ? well, Philippe paid 
 him a thousand francs a month to keep Madame Bridau 
 in the societ}* of Florine, Mariette, Tullia, and the Val- 
 Noble. When Philippe saw his crab-girl so used to 
 pleasure and dress that she couldn't do without them, 
 he stopped paying the mone} r , and left her to get it as 
 she could — it is easy to know how. By the end of 
 eighteen months, the brute had forced his wife, stage 
 by stage, lower and lower ; till at last, by the help of a 
 young officer, he gave her a taste for drinking. As he 
 wei ft up in the world, his wife went down ; and the 
 
The Two Brothers. 369 
 
 countess is now in the mud. The girl, bred in the 
 country, has a strong constitution. I don't know what 
 means Philippe has lately taken to get rid of her. I am 
 anxious to study this precious little drama, for I am 
 determined to avenge Joseph here. Alas, friends," he 
 added, in a tone which left his three companions in 
 doubt whether he was jesting or speaking seriousl}-, 
 " give a man over to a vice and you '11 get rid of him. 
 Did n't Hugo say : ' She loved a ball, and died of it ' ? 
 So it is. My grandmother loved the lottery. Old 
 Rouget loved a loose life, and Lolotte killed him. 
 Madame Bridau, poor woman, loved Philippe, and per- 
 ished of it. Vice ! vice ! my dear friends, do }'ou want 
 to know what vice is? It is the Bonneau of death." 
 
 " Then you '11 die of a joke," said Desroches, laughing. 
 
 Above the fourth floor, the 3'oung men were forced to 
 climb one of the steep, straight stairways that are 
 almost ladders, by which the attics of Parisian houses 
 are often reached. Though Joseph, who remembered 
 Flore in all her beauty, expected to see some frightful 
 change, he was not prepared for the hideous spectacle 
 which now smote his artist's eye. In a room with bare, 
 unpapered walls, under the sharp pitch of an attic roof, 
 on a cot whose scanty mattress was filled, perhaps, with 
 refuse cotton, a woman lay, green as a body that has 
 been drowned two days, thin as a consumptive an hour 
 before death. This putrid skeleton had a miserable 
 checked handkerchief bound about her head, which had 
 lost its hair. The circle round the hollow eyes was red, 
 and the eyelids were like the pellicle of an egg. Noth- 
 ing remained of the bod}^ once so captivating, but an 
 ignoble, bony structure. As Flore caught sight of the 
 visitors, she drew across her breast a bit of muslin which 
 
 24 
 
370 The Two Brothers. 
 
 might have been a fragment of a window-curtain, for it 
 was edged with rust as from a rod. The }*oung men 
 saw two chairs, a broken bureau on which was a tallow- 
 candle stuck into a potato, a few dishes on the floor, and 
 an earthen fire-pot in a corner of the chimney, in which 
 there was no fire ; this was all the furniture of the room. 
 Bixiou noticed the remaining sheets of writing-paper, 
 bought from some neighboring grocery for the letter 
 which the two women had doubtless concocted together. 
 The word disgusting is a positive to which no super- 
 lative exists, and we must therefore use it to convey the 
 impression caused by this sight. When the dying 
 woman saw Joseph approaching her, two great tears 
 rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 "She can still weep!" whispered Bixiou. "A 
 strange sight, — tears from dominos ! It is like the 
 miracle of Moses." 
 
 *' How burnt up ! " cried Joseph. 
 
 " In the fires of repentance," said Flore. " I cannot 
 get a priest ; I have nothing, not even a crucifix, to 
 help me see God. Ah, monsieur ! " she cried, raising 
 her arms, that were like two pieces of carved wood, 
 4 \ I am a guilty woman ; but God never punished any 
 one as he has punished me ! Philippe killed Max, who 
 advised me to do dreadful things, and now he has killed 
 me. God uses him as a scourge ! " 
 
 "Leave me alone with her," said Bianchon, "and 
 let me find out if the disease is curable." 
 
 " If 3'ou cure her, Philippe Bridau will die of rage," 
 said Desroches. "I am going to draw up a statement 
 of the condition in which we have found his wife. He 
 has not brought her before the courts as an adulteress, 
 and therefore her rights as a wife are intact : he shall 
 
The Two Brothers. 371 
 
 have the shame of a suit. But first, we must remove 
 the Comtesse de Brambourg to the private hospital of 
 Doctor Dubois, in the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. 
 She will be well cared for there. Then I will summon 
 the count for the restoration of the conjugal home." 
 
 11 Bravo, Desroches ! " cried Bixiou. " What a pleas- 
 ure to do so much good that will make some people feel 
 so badly ! " 
 
 Ten minutes later, Bianchon came down and joined 
 them. 
 
 "I am going straight to Despleins," he said. "He 
 can save the woman by an operation. Ah ! he will 
 take good care of the case, for her abuse of liquor has 
 developed a magnificent disease which was thought to 
 be lost." 
 
 " Wag of a mangier ! Is n't there but one disease in 
 life?" cried Bixiou. 
 
 But Bianchon was already out of sight, so great was 
 his haste to tell Despleins the wonderful news. Two 
 hours later, Joseph's miserable sister-in-law was re- 
 moved to the decent hospital established by Doctor 
 Dubois, which was afterward bought of him by the 
 city of Paris. Three weeks later, the "Hospital Ga- 
 zette" published an account of one of the boldest 
 operations of modern surgery, on a case designated by 
 the initials "F. B." The patient died, — more from 
 the exhaustion produced by misery and starvation than 
 from the effects of the treatment. 
 
 No sooner did this occur, than the Comte de Bram- 
 bourg went, in deep mourning, to call on the Comte 
 de Soulanges, and inform him of the sad loss he had 
 just sustained. Soon after, it was whispered about in 
 the fashionable world that the Comte de Soulanges 
 
372 TJie Two Brothers. 
 
 would shortly rnarr} 7 his daughter to a parvenu of great 
 merit, who was about to be appointed brigadier-general 
 and receive command of a regiment of the Royal Guard. 
 De Marsay told this news to Eugene de Rastignac, as 
 the3 T were supping together at the Rocher de Cancale, 
 where Bixiou happened to be. 
 
 ' ' It shall not take place ! " said the witt} T artist to 
 himself. 
 
 Among the many old friends whom Philippe now 
 refused to recognize, there were some, like Giroudeau, 
 who were unable to revenge themselves ; but it hap- 
 pened that he had wounded Bixiou, who, thanks to 
 his brilliant qualities, was everywhere received, and 
 who never forgave an insult. One day at the Rocher 
 de Cancale, before a number of well-bred persons who 
 were supping there, Philippe had replied to Bixiou, 
 who spoke of visiting him at the hotel de Brambourg : 
 M You can come and see me when you are made a 
 minister". 
 
 " Am I to turn Protestant before I can visit } t ou?" 
 said Bixiou, pretending to misunderstand the speech ; 
 but he said to himself, "You may be Goliath, but I 
 have got my sling, and plenty of stones." 
 
 The next day he went to an actor, who was one of 
 his friends, and metamorphosed himself, by the all- 
 powerful aid of dress, into a secularized priest with 
 green spectacles ; then he took a carriage and drove 
 to the hotel de Soulanges. Received by the count, on 
 sending in a message that he wanted to speak with 
 him on a matter of serious importance, he related in a 
 feigned voice the whole story of the dead countess, 
 the secret particulars of whose horrible death had been 
 confided to him by Bianchon ; the histor} T of Agathe's 
 
The Two Brothers. 373 
 
 death ; the history of old Rouget's death, of which the 
 Comte de Brambourg had openly boasted ; the history 
 of Madame Descoings's death ; the histoiy of the theft 
 from the newspaper ; and the histoiy of Philippe's pri- 
 vate morals during his early days. 
 
 44 Monsieur le comte, don't give him your daughter 
 until you have made every inquiry ; interrogate his 
 former comrades, — Bixiou, Giroudeau, and others." 
 
 Three months later, the Comte de Brambourg gave 
 a supper to du Tillet, Nucingen, Eugene de Rastignac, 
 Maxime de Trailles, and Henri de Marsay. The am- 
 phitryon accepted with much nonchalance the half- 
 consolator} 7 condolences they made to him as to his 
 rupture with the house of Soulanges. 
 
 44 You can do better," said Maxime de Trailles. 
 
 44 How much mone}' must a man have to marry a 
 demoiselle de Grandlieu ? " asked Philippe of de Marsa} r . 
 
 "You? They wouldn't give you the ugliest of the 
 six for less than ten millions," answered de Marsay 
 insolently. 
 
 44 Bah ! " said Rastignac. 44 With an income of two 
 hundred thousand francs \ r ou can have Mademoiselle 
 de Langeais, the daughter of the marquis ; she is thirty 
 years old, and ugly, and she has n't a sou ; that ought 
 to suit you." 
 
 44 1 shall have ten millions two } T ears from now," said 
 Philippe Bridau. 
 
 44 It is now the 16th of January, 1829," cried du Til- 
 let, laughing. 4 4 1 have been hard at work for ten years 
 and I have not made as much as that yet." 
 
 44 We'll take counsel of each other," said Bridau; 
 44 you shall see how well I understand finance." 
 
 44 How much do you really own?" asked Nucingen. 
 
374 The Two Brothers. 
 
 " Three millions, excluding my house and my estate, 
 which I shall not sell ; in fact, I cannot, for the prop- 
 erty is now entailed and goes with the title." 
 
 Nucingen and du Tillet looked at each other ; after 
 that sly glance, du Tillet said to Philippe, " My dear 
 count, I shall be delighted to do business with you." 
 
 De Marsay intercepted the look du Tillet had ex- 
 changed with Nucingen, and which meant, " We will 
 have those millions." The two bank magnates were at 
 the centre of political affairs, and could, at a given time, 
 manipulate matters at the Bourse, so as to play a sure 
 game against Philippe, when the probabilities might all 
 seem for him and yet be secretly against him. 
 
 The occasion came. In July, 1830, du Tillet and 
 Nucingen had helped the Comte de Brambourg to make 
 fifteen hundred thousand francs ; he could therefore feel 
 no distrust of those who had given him such good ad- 
 vice. Philippe, who owed his rise to the Restoration, 
 was misled by his profound contempt for kt civilians ; " 
 he believed in the triumph of the Ordonnances, and was 
 bent on playing for a rise ; du Tillet and Nucingen, who 
 were sure of a revolution, played against him for a fall. 
 The crafty pair confirmed the judgment of the Comte de 
 Brambourg and seemed to share his convictions ; they 
 encouraged his hopes of doubling his millions, and ap- 
 parently took steps to help him. Philippe fought like 
 a man who had four millions depending on the issue of 
 the struggle. His devotion was so noticeable, that he 
 received orders to go to Saint-Cloud with the Due de 
 Maufrigneuse and attend a council. This mark of favor 
 probably saved Philippe's life ; for when the order came, 
 on the 2oth of July, he was intending to make a charge 
 and sweep the boulevards, when he would undoubtedly 
 
The Two Brothers. 375 
 
 have been shot down by his friend Giroudeau, who 
 commanded a division of the assailants. 
 
 A month later, nothing was left of Colonel Bridau's 
 immense fortune but his house and furniture, his es- 
 tates, and the pictures which had come from Issoudun. 
 lie committed the still further folly, as he said himself, 
 of believing in the restoration of the elder branch, to 
 which he remained faithful until 1834. The not incom- 
 prehensible jealous}' Philippe felt on seeing Giroudeau 
 a colonel drove him to re-enter the service. Unluckily 
 for himself, he obtained, in 1835, the command of a 
 regiment in Algiers, where he remained three years in 
 a post of danger, always hoping for the epaulets of a 
 general. But some malignant influence — that, in 
 fact, of General Giroudeau. — continually balked him. 
 Grown hard and brutal, Philippe exceeded the ordinary 
 severity of the service, and was hated, in spite of his 
 bravery a la Murat. 
 
 At the beginning of the fatal year 1839, while making 
 a sudden dash upon the Arabs during a retreat before 
 superior forces, he flung himself against the enemy, fol- 
 lowed by only a single company, and fell in, unfortu- 
 nately, with the main body of the enemy. The battle 
 was bloody and terrible, man to man, and only a few 
 horsemen escaped alive. Seeing that their colonel was 
 surrounded, these men, who were at some distance, 
 were unwilling to perish uselessly in attempting to res- 
 cue him. They heard his cry : " Your colonel ! to me ! 
 a colonel of the Empire ! " but they rejoined the regi- 
 ment. Philippe met with a horrible death, for the 
 Arabs, after hacking him in pieces with their scime- 
 tars, cut off his head. 
 
 Joseph, who was married about this time, through the 
 
376 The Two Brothers. 
 
 good offices of the Comte de Serizy, to the daughter of 
 a million naire farmer, inherited his brother's house in 
 Paris and the estate of Brambourg, in consequence of 
 the entail, which Philippe, had he foreseen this result, 
 would certainh* have broken. The chief pleasure the 
 painter derived from his inheritance was in the fine col- 
 lection of paintings from Issoudun. He now possesses 
 an income of sixty thousand francs, and his father-in- 
 law, the farmer, continues to pile up the five-franc 
 pieces. Though Joseph Bridau paints magnificent pict- 
 ures, and renders important services to artists, he is 
 not 3 T et a member of the Institute. As the result of a 
 clause in the deed of entail, he is now Comte de Bram- 
 bourg, a fact which often makes him roar with laughter 
 among his friends in the atelier. 
 
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