Parisian households
are literally eaten up with
the desire to be
in keeping with the luxury that
surrounds them on all sides,
and few there are who have the
wisdom to let their external
situation conform to their internal
revenue. But this vice may perhaps
denote a truly French patriotism,
which seeks to maintain the supremacy
of the nation in the matter of
dress. France reigns through
clothes over the whole of Europe;
and every one must feel the importance
of retaining a commercial sceptre
that makes fashion in France
what the navy is to England.
This patriotic ardor which leads
a nation to sacrifice everything
to appearances--to the "paroistre," as
d'Aubigne said in the days of
Henri IV.--is the cause of those
vast secret labors which employ
the whole of a Parisian woman's
morning, when she wishes, as
Madame Rabourdin wished, to keep
up on twelve thousand francs
a year the style that many a
family with thirty thousand does
not indulge in. Consequently,
every Friday,--the day of her
dinner parties,--Madame Rabourdin
helped the chambermaid to do
the rooms; for the cook went
early to market, and the man-servant
was cleaning the silver, folding
the napkins, and polishing the
glasses. The ill-advised individual
who might happen, through an
oversight of the porter, to enter
Madame Rabourdin's establishment
about eleven o'clock in the morning
would have found her in the midst
of a disorder the reverse of
picturesque, wrapped in a dressing-gown,
her hair ill-dressed, and her
feet in old slippers, attending
to the lamps, arranging the flowers,
or cooking in haste an extremely
unpoetic breakfast. The visitor
to whom the mysteries of Parisian
life were unknown would certainly
have learned for the rest of
his life not to set foot in these
greenrooms at the wrong moment;
a woman caught in her matin mysteries
would ever after point him out
as a man capable of the blackest
crimes; or she would talk of
his stupidity and indiscretion
in a manner to ruin him. The
true Parisian woman, indulgent
to all curiosity that she can
put to profit, is implacable
to that which makes her lose
her prestige. Such a domiciliary
invasion may be called, not only
(as they say in police reports)
an attack on privacy, but a burglary,
a robbery of all that is most
precious, namely, CREDIT. A woman
is quite willing to let herself
be surprised half-dressed, with
her hair about her shoulders.
If her hair is all her own she
scores one; but she will never
allow
herself to be seen "doing" her own rooms, or she loses her pariostre, --that
precious SEEMING-TO-BE!
Madame Rabourdin
was in full tide of preparation
for her Friday
dinner, standing in the midst
of provisions the cook had just
fished from the vast ocean of
the markets, when Monsieur des
Lupeaulx made his way stealthily
in. The general-secretary was
certainly the last man Madame
Rabourdin expected to see, and
so, when she heard his boots
creaking in the ante-chamber,
she exclaimed, impatiently, "The
hair- dresser already!"--an exclamation
as little agreeable to des Lupeaulx
as the sight of des Lupeaulx
was agreeable to her. She immediately
escaped into her bedroom, where
chaos reigned; a jumble of furniture
to be put out of sight, with
other heterogeneous articles
of more or rather less elegance,--a
domestic carnival, in short.
The bold des Lupeaulx followed
the handsome figure, so piquant
did she seem to him in her dishabille.
There is something indescribably
alluring to the eye in a portion
of flesh seen through an hiatus
in the undergarment, more attractive
far than when it rises gracefully
above the circular curve of the
velvet bodice, to the vanishing
line of the prettiest swan's-neck
that ever lover kissed before
a ball. When the eye dwells on
a woman in full dress making
exhibition of her magnificent
white shoulders, do we not fancy
that we see the elegant dessert
of a grand dinner? But the glance
that glides through the disarray
of muslins rumpled in sleep enjoys,
as it were, a feast of stolen
fruit glowing between the leaves
on a garden wall.
"Stop! wait!" cried
the pretty Parisian, bolting
the door of
the disordered room.
She rang for Therese, called
for her daughter, the cook, and
the man- servant, wishing she
possessed the whistle of the
machinist at the Opera. Her call,
however, answered the same purpose.
In a moment, another phenomenon!
the salon assumed a piquant morning
look, quite in keeping with the
becoming toilet hastily got together
by the fugitive; we say it to
her glory, for she was evidently
a clever woman, in this at least.
"You!" she said, coming forward, "at
this hour? What has happened?"
"Very serious things," answered
des Lupeaulx. "You and I must
understand each other now."
Celestine looked at the man
behind his glasses, and understood
the matter.
"My principle vice," she said, "is
oddity. For instance, I do not
mix up affections with politics;
let us talk politics,--business,
if you will,--the rest can come
later. However, it is not really
oddity nor a whim that forbids
me to mingle ill-assorted colors
and put together things that
have no affinity, and compels
me to avoid discords; it is my
natural instinct as an artist.
We women have politics of our
own."
Already the tones of her voice
and the charm of her manners
were producing their effect on
the secretary and metamorphosing
his roughness into sentimental
courtesy; she had recalled him
to his obligations as a lover.
A clever pretty woman makes an
atmosphere about her in which
the nerves relax and the feelings
soften.
"You are ignorant of what is
happening," said des Lupeaulx,
harshly, for he still thought
it best to make a show of harshness. "Read
that."
He gave the two newspapers
to the graceful woman, having
drawn a line in red ink round
each of the famous articles.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "but
this is dreadful! Who is this
Baudoyer?"
"A donkey," answered des Lupeaulx; "but,
as you see, he uses means,--
he gives monstrances; he succeeds,
thanks to some clever hand that
pulls the wires."
The thought of her debts crossed
Madame Rabourdin's mind and blurred
her sight, as if two lightning
flashes had blinded her eyes
at the same moment; her ears
hummed under the pressure of
the blood that began to beat
in her arteries; she remained
for a moment quite bewildered,
gazing at a window which she
did not see.
"But are you faithful to us?" she
said at last, with a winning
glance at des Lupeaulx, as if
to attach him to her.
"That is as it may be," he
replied, answering her glance
with an interrogative look which
made the poor woman blush.
"If you demand caution-money
you may lose all," she said,
laughing; "I thought you more
magnanimous than you are. And
you, you thought me less a person
than I am,--a sort of school-girl."
"You have misunderstood me," he
said, with a covert smile; "I
meant that I could not assist
a man who plays against me just
as l'Etourdi played against Mascarille."
"What can you
mean?"
"This will
prove to you whether I am magnanimous
or not."
He gave Madame Rabourdin the
memorandum stolen by Dutocq,
pointing out to her the passage
in which her husband had so ably
analyzed him.
"Read that."
Celestine recognized the handwriting,
read the paper, and turned pale
under the blow.
"All the ministries, the whole
service is treated in the same
way," said des Lupeaulx.
"Happily," she said, "you
alone possess this document.
I cannot
explain it, even to myself."
"The man who
stole it is not such a fool
as to let me have
it without keeping a copy for
himself; he is too great a liar
to admit it, and too clever in
his business to give it up. I
did not even ask him for it."
"Who is he?"
"Your chief
clerk."
"Dutocq! People are always
punished through their kindnesses!
But," she added, "he is only
a dog who wants a bone."
"Do you know
what the other side offer me,
poor devil of
a general- secretary?"
"What?"
"I owe thirty-thousand
and odd miserable francs,--you
will
despise me because it isn't more,
but here, I grant you, I am significant.
Well, Baudoyer's uncle has bought
up my debts, and is, doubtless,
ready to give me a receipt for
them if Baudoyer is appointed."
"But all that
is monstrous."
"Not at all;
it is monarchical and religious,
for the Grand
Almoner is concerned in it. Baudoyer
himself must appoint Colleville
in return for ecclesiastical
assistance."
"What shall
you do?"
"What will you bid me do?" he
said, with charming grace, holding
out his hand.
Celestine no longer thought
him ugly, nor old, nor white
and chilling as a hoar-frost,
nor indeed anything that was
odious and offensive, but she
did not give him her hand. At
night, in her salon, she would
have let him take it a hundred
times, but here, alone and in
the morning, the action seemed
too like a promise that might
lead her far.
"And they say that statesmen
have no hearts!" she cried enthusiastically,
trying to hide the harshness
of her refusal under the grace
of her words. "The thought used
to terrify me," she added, assuming
an innocent, ingenuous air.
"What a calumny!" cried des
Lupeaulx. "Only this week one
of the stiffest of diplomatists,
a man who has been in the service
ever since he came to manhood,
has married the daughter of an
actress, and has introduced her
at the most iron-bound court
in Europe as to quarterings of
nobility."
"You will continue
to support us?"
"I am to draw
up your husband's appointment--
But no cheating,
remember."
She gave him
her hand to kiss, and tapped
him on the cheek as
she did so. "You are mine!" she
said.
Des Lupeaulx admired the expression.
[That night,
at the Opera, the old coxcomb
related the incident
as follows: "A woman who did
not want to tell a man she would
be his,--an acknowledgment a
well-bred woman never allows
herself to make,-- changed the
words into 'You are mine.' Don't
you think the evasion charming?"]
"But you must be my ally," he
answered. "Now listen, your husband
has spoken to the minister of
a plan for the reform of the
administration; the paper I have
shown you is a part of that plan.
I want to know what it is. Find
out, and tell me to-night."
"I will," she
answered, wholly unaware of
the important nature
of the errand which brought des
Lupeaulx to the house that morning.
"Madame, the
hair-dresser."
"At last!" thought Celestine. "I
don't see how I should have got
out of it if he had delayed much
longer."
"You do not know to what lengths
my devotion can go," said des
Lupeaulx, rising. "You shall
be invited to the first select
party given by his Excellency's
wife."
"Ah, you are an angel!" she
cried. "And I see now how much
you love me; you love me intelligently."
"To-night, dear child," he
said, "I shall find out at the
Opera what journalists are conspiring
for Baudoyer, and we will measure
swords together."
"Yes, but you
must dine with us, will you
not? I have taken
pains to get the things you like
best--"
"All that is so like love," said
des Lupeaulx to himself as he
went downstairs, "that I am willing
to be deceived in that way for
a long time. Well, if she IS
tricking me I shall know it.
I'll set the cleverest of all
traps before the appointment
is fairly signed, and I'll read
her heart. Ah! my little cats,
I know you! for, after all, women
are just what we men are. Twenty-eight
years old, virtuous, and living
here in the rue Duphot!--a rare
piece of luck and worth cultivating," thought
the elderly butterfly as he fluttered
down the staircase.
"Good heavens! that man, without
his glasses, must look funny
enough in a dressing-gown!" thought
Celestine, "but the harpoon is
in his back and he'll tow me
where I want to go; I am sure
now of that invitation. He has
played his part in my comedy."
When, at five o'clock in the
afternoon, Rabourdin came home
to dress for dinner, his wife
presided at his toilet and presently
laid before him the fatal memorandum
which, like the slipper in the
Arabian Nights, the luckless
man was fated to meet at every
turn.
"Who gave you that?" he
asked, thunderstruck.
"Monsieur des
Lupeaulx."
"So he has been here!" cried
Rabourdin, with a look which
would certainly have made a guilty
woman turn pale, but which Celestine
received with unruffled brow
and a laughing eye.
"And he is coming back to dinner," she
said. "Why that startled air?"
"My dear," replied Rabourdin, "I
have mortally offended des Lupeaulx;
such men never forgive, and yet
he fawns upon me! Do you think
I don't see why?"
"The man seems to me," she
said, "to have good taste; you
can't expect me to blame him.
I really don't know anything
more flattering to a woman than
to please a worn-out palate.
After--"
"A truce to
nonsense, Celestine. Spare
a much-tried man. I cannot
get an audience of the minister,
and my honor is at stake."
"Good heavens,
no! Dutocq can have the promise
of a good place
as soon as you are named head
of the division."
"Ah! I see what you are about,
dear child," said Rabourdin; "but
the game you are playing is just
as dishonorable as the real thing
that is going on around us. A
lie is a lie, and an honest woman--"
"Let me use
the weapons employed against
us."
"Celestine,
the more that man des Lupeaulx
feels he is foolishly
caught in a trap, the more bitter
he will be against me."
"What if I
get him dismissed altogether?"
Rabourdin looked at his wife
in amazement.
"I am thinking only of your
advancement; it was high time,
my poor husband," continued Celestine. "But
you are mistaking the dog for
the game," she added, after a
pause. "In a few days des Lupeaulx
will have accomplished all that
I want of him. While you are
trying to speak to the minister,
and before you can even see him
on business, I shall have seen
him and spoken with him. You
are worn out in trying to bring
that plan of your brain to birth,--a
plan which you have been hiding
from me; but you will find that
in three months your wife has
accomplished more than you have
done in six years. Come, tell
me this fine scheme of yours."
Rabourdin, continuing to shave,
cautioned his wife not to say
a word about his work, and after
assuring her that to confide
a single idea to des Lupeaulx
would be to put the cat near
the milk-jug, he began an explanation
of his labors.
"Why didn't you tell me this
before, Rabourdin?" said Celestine,
cutting her husband short at
his fifth sentence. "You might
have saved yourself a world of
trouble. I can understand that
a man should be blinded by an
idea for a moment, but to nurse
it up for six or seven years,
that's a thing I cannot comprehend!
You want to reduce the budget,--a
vulgar and commonplace idea!
The budget ought, on the contrary,
to reach two hundred millions.
Then, indeed, France would be
great. If you want a new system
let it be one of loans, as Monsieur
de Nucingen keeps saying. The
poorest of all treasuries is
the one with a surplus that it
never uses; the mission of a
minister of finance is to fling
gold out of the windows. It will
come back to him through the
cellars; and you, you want to
hoard it! The thing to do is
to increase the offices and all
government employments, instead
of reducing them! So far from
lessening the public debt, you
ought to increase the creditors.
If the Bourbons want to reign
in peace, let them seek creditors
in the towns and villages, and
place their loans there; above
all, they ought not to let foreigners
draw interest away from France;
some day an alien nation might
ask us for the capital. Whereas
if capital and interest are held
only in France, neither France
nor credit can perish. That's
what saved England. Your plan
is the tradesman's plan. An ambitious
public man should produce some
bold scheme,--he should make
himself another Law, without
Law's fatal ill- luck; he ought
to exhibit the power of credit,
and show that we should reduce,
not principal, but interest,
as they do in England."
"Come, come, Celestine," said
Rabourdin; "mix up ideas as much
as you please, and make fun of
them,--I'm accustomed to that;
but don't criticise a work of
which you know nothing as yet."
"Do I need," she asked, "to
know a scheme the essence of
which is to govern France with
a civil service of six thousand
men instead of twenty thousand?
My dear friend, even allowing
it were the plan of a man of
genius, a king of France who
attempted to carry it out would
get himself dethroned. You can
keep down a feudal aristocracy
by levelling a few heads, but
you can't subdue a hydra with
thousands. And is it with the
present ministers--between ourselves,
a wretched crew--that you expect
to carry out your reform? No,
no; change the monetary system
if you will, but do not meddle
with men, with little men; they
cry out too much, whereas gold
is dumb."
"But, Celestine,
if you will talk, and put wit
before argument,
we shall never understand each
other."
"Understand! I understand what
that paper, in which you have
analyzed the capacities of the
men in office, will lead to," she
replied, paying no attention
to what her husband said. "Good
heavens! you have sharpened the
axe to cut off your own head.
Holy Virgin! why didn't you consult
me? I could have at least prevented
you from committing anything
to writing, or, at any rate,
if you insisted on putting it
to paper, I would have written
it down myself, and it should
never have left this house. Good
God! to think that he never told
me! That's what men are! capable
of sleeping with the wife of
their bosom for seven years,
and keeping a secret from her!
Hiding their thoughts from a
poor woman for seven years!--doubting
her devotion!"
"But," cried Rabourdin, provoked, "for
eleven years and more I have
been unable to discuss anything
with you because you insist on
cutting me short and substituting
your ideas for mine. You know
nothing at all about my scheme."
"Nothing! I
know all."
"Then tell it to me!" cried
Rabourdin, angry for the first
time since his marriage.
"There! it is half-past six
o'clock; finish shaving and dress
at once," she cried hastily,
after the fashion of women when
pressed on a point they are not
ready to talk of. "I must go;
we'll adjourn the discussion,
for I don't want to be nervous
on a reception-day. Good heavens!
the poor soul!" she thought,
as she left the room, "it IS
hard to be in labor for seven
years and bring forth a dead
child! And not trust his wife!"
She went back into the room.
"If you had
listened to me you would never
had interceded
to keep your chief clerk; he
stole that abominable paper,
and has, no doubt, kept a fac-simile
of it. Adieu, man of genius!"
Then she noticed the almost
tragic expression of her husband's
grief; she felt she had gone
too far, and ran to him, seized
him just as he was, all lathered
with soap-suds, and kissed him
tenderly.
"Dear Xavier, don't be vexed," she
said. "To-night, after the people
are gone, we will study your
plan; you shall speak at your
ease,--I will listen just as
long as you wish me to. Isn't
that nice of me? What do I want
better than to be the wife of
Mohammed?"
She began to laugh; and Rabourdin
laughed too, for the soapsuds
were clinging to Celestine's
lips, and her voice had the tones
of the purest and most steadfast
affection.
"Go and dress,
dear child; and above all,
don't say a word
of this to des Lupeaulx. Swear
you will not. That is the only
punishment that I impose--"
"IMPOSE!" she cried. "Then
I won't swear anything."
"Come, come,
Celestine, I said in jest a
really serious thing."
"To-night," she said, "I
mean your general-secretary
to know
whom I am really intending to
attack; he has given me the means."
"Attack whom?"
"The minister," she answered,
drawing himself up. "We are to
be invited to his wife's private
parties."
In spite of his Celestine's
loving caresses, Rabourdin, as
he finished dressing, could not
prevent certain painful thoughts
from clouding his brow.
"Will she ever appreciate me?" he
said to himself. "She does not
even understand that she is the
sole incentive of my whole work.
How wrong- headed, and yet how
excellent a mind!--If I had not
married I might now have been
high in office and rich. I could
have saved half my salary; my
savings well-invested would have
given me to-day ten thousand
francs a year outside of my office,
and I might then have become,
through a good marriage-- Yes,
that is all true," he exclaimed,
interrupting himself, "but I
have Celestine and my two children." The
man flung himself back on his
happiness. To the best of married
lives there come moments of regret.
He entered the salon and looked
around him. "There are not two
women in Paris who understand
making life pleasant as she does.
To keep such a home as this on
twelve thousand francs a year!" he
thought, looking at the flower-
stands bright with bloom, and
thinking of the social enjoyments
that were about to gratify his
vanity. "She was made to be the
wife of a minister. When I think
of his Excellency's wife, and
how little she helps him! the
good woman is a comfortable middle-class
dowdy, and when she goes to the
palace or into society--" He
pinched his lips together. Very
busy men are apt to have very
ignorant notions about household
matters, and you can make them
believe that a hundred thousand
francs afford little or that
twelve thousand afford all.
Though impatiently expected,
and in spite of the flattering
dishes prepared for the palate
of the gourmet-emeritus, des
Lupeaulx did not come to dinner;
in fact he came in very late,
about midnight, an hour when
company dwindles and conversations
become intimate and confidential.
Andoche Finot, the journalist,
was one of the few remaining
guests.
"I now know all," said des
Lupeaulx, when he was comfortably
seated on a sofa at the corner
of the fireplace, a cup of tea
in his hand and Madame Rabourdin
standing before him with a plate
of sandwiches and some slices
of cake very appropriately called "leaden
cake." "Finot, my dear and witty
friend, you can render a great
service to our gracious queen
by letting loose a few dogs upon
the men we were talking of. You
have against you," he said to
Rabourdin, lowering his voice
so as to be heard only by the
three persons whom he addressed, "a
set of usurers and priests--money
and the church. The article in
the liberal journal was instituted
by an old money-lender to whom
the paper was under obligations;
but the young fellow who wrote
it cares nothing about it. The
paper is about to change hands,
and in three days more will be
on our side. The royalist opposition,--for
we have, thanks to Monsieur de
Chateaubriand, a royalist opposition,
that is to say, royalists who
have gone over to the liberals,--however,
there's no need to discuss political
matters now,--these assassins
of Charles X. have promised me
to support your appointment at
the price of our acquiescence
in one of their amendments. All
my batteries are manned. If they
threaten us with Baudoyer we
shall say to the clerical phalanx,
'Such and such a paper and such
and such men will attack your
measures and the whole press
will be against you' (for even
the ministerial journals which
I influence will be deaf and
dumb, won't they, Finot?). 'Appoint
Rabourdin, a faithful servant,
and public opinion is with you--'"
"Hi, hi!" laughed
Finot.
"So, there's no need to be
uneasy," said des Lupeaulx. "I
have arranged it all to-night;
the Grand Almoner must yield."
"I would rather have had less
hope, and you to dinner," whispered
Celestine, looking at him with
a vexed air which might very
well pass for an expression of
wounded love.
"This must win my pardon," he
returned, giving her an invitation
to the ministry for the following
Tuesday.
Celestine opened the letter,
and a flush of pleasure came
into her face. No enjoyment can
be compared to that of gratified
vanity.
"You know what the countess's
Tuesdays are," said des Lupeaulx,
with a confidential air. "To
the usual ministerial parties
they are what the 'Petit-Chateau'
is to a court ball. You will
be at the heart of power! You
will see there the Comtesse Feraud,
who is still in favor notwithstanding
Louis XVIII.'s death, Delphine
de Nucingen, Madame de Listomere,
the Marquise d'Espard, and your
dear Firmiani; I have had her
invited to give you her support
in case the other women attempt
to black-ball you. I long to
see you in the midst of them."
Celestine threw up her head
like a thoroughbred before the
race, and re-read the invitation
just as Baudoyer and Saillard
had re-read the articles about
themselves in the newspapers,
without being able to quaff enough
of it.
"THERE first, and NEXT at the
Tuileries," she said to des Lupeaulx,
who was startled by the words
and by the attitude of the speaker,
so expressive were they of ambition
and security.
"Can it be that I am only a
stepping-stone?" he asked himself.
He rose, and went into Madame
Rabourdin's bedroom, where she
followed him, understanding from
a motion of his head that he
wished to speak to her privately.
"Well, your husband's plan," he
said; "what of it?"
"Bah! the useless nonsense
of an honest man!" she replied. "He
wants to suppress fifteen thousand
offices and do the work with
five or six thousand. You never
heard of such nonsense; I will
let you read the whole document
when copied; it is written in
perfect good faith. His analysis
of the officials was prompted
only by his honesty and rectitude,--poor
dear man!"
Des Lupeaulx was all the more
reassured by the genuine laugh
which accompanied these jesting
and contemptuous words, because
he was a judge of lying and knew
that Celestine spoke in good
faith.
"But still, what is at the
bottom of it all?" he asked.
"Well, he wants
to do away with the land-tax
and substitute
taxes on consumption."
"Why it is
over a year since Francois
Keller and Nucingen
proposed some such plan, and
the minister himself is thinking
of a reduction of the land-tax."
"There!" exclaimed Celestine, "I
told him there was nothing new
in his scheme."
"No; but he
is on the same ground with
the best financier
of the epoch,--the Napoleon of
finance. Something may come of
it. Your husband must surely
have some special ideas in his
method of putting the scheme
into practice."
"No, it is all commonplace," she
said, with a disdainful curl
of her lip. "Just think of governing
France with five or six thousand
offices, when what is really
needed is that everybody in France
should be personally enlisted
in the support of the government."
Des Lupeaulx seemed satisfied
that Rabourdin, to whom in his
own mind he had granted remarkable
talents, was really a man of
mediocrity.
"Are you quite sure of the
appointment? You don't want a
bit of feminine advice?" she
said.
"You women are greater adepts
than we in refined treachery," he
said, nodding.
"Well, then,
say BAUDOYER to the court and
clergy, to divert
suspicion and put them to sleep,
and then, at the last moment,
write RABOURDIN."
"There are some women who say
YES as long as they need a man,
and NO when he has played his
part," returned des Lupeaulx,
significantly.
"I know they do," she answered,
laughing; "but they are very
foolish, for in politics everything
recommences. Such proceedings
may do with fools, but you are
a man of sense. In my opinion
the greatest folly any one can
commit is to quarrel with a clever
man."
"You are mistaken," said des
Lupeaulx, "for such a man pardons.
The real danger is with the petty
spiteful natures who have nothing
to do but study revenge,--I spend
my life among them."
When all the guests were gone,
Rabourdin came into his wife's
room, and after asking for her
strict attention, he explained
his plan and made her see that
it did not cut down the revenue
but on the contrary increased
it; he showed her in what ways
the public funds were employed,
and how the State could increase
tenfold the circulation of money
by putting its own, in the proportion
of a third, or a quarter, into
the expenditures which would
be sustained by private or local
interests. He finally proved
to her plainly that his plan
was not mere theory, but a system
teeming with methods of execution.
Celestine, brightly enthusiastic,
sprang into her husband's arms
and sat upon his knee in the
chimney-corner.
"At last I find the husband
of my dreams!" she cried. "My
ignorance of your real merit
has saved you from des Lupeaulx's
claws. I calumniated you to him
gloriously and in good faith."
The man wept with joy. His
day of triumph had come at last.
Having labored for many years
to satisfy his wife, he found
himself a great man in the eyes
of his sole public.
"To one who knows how good
you are, how tender, how equable
in anger, how loving, you are
tenfold greater still. But," she
added, "a man of genius is always
more or less a child; and you
are a child, a dearly beloved
child," she said, caressing him.
Then she drew that invitation
from that particular spot where
women put what they sacredly
hide, and showed it to him.
"Here is what I wanted," she
said; "Des Lupeaulx has put me
face to face with the minister,
and were he a man of iron, his
Excellency shall be made for
a time to bend the knee to me."
The next day Celestine began
her preparations for entrance
into the inner circle of the
ministry. It was her day of triumph,
her own! Never courtesan took
such pains with herself as this
honest woman bestowed upon her
person. No dressmaker was ever
so tormented as hers. Madame
Rabourdin forgot nothing. She
went herself to the stable where
she hired carriages, and chose
a coupe that was neither old,
nor bourgeois, nor showy. Her
footman, like the footmen of
great houses, had the dress and
appearance of a master. About
ten on the evening of the eventful
Tuesday, she left home in a charming
full mourning attire. Her hair
was dressed with jet grapes of
exquisite workmanship, --an ornament
costing three thousand francs,
made by Fossin for an Englishwoman
who had left Paris before it
was finished. The leaves were
of stamped iron-work, as light
as the vine-leaves themselves,
and the artist had not forgotten
the graceful tendrils, which
twined in the wearer's curls
just as, in nature, they catch
upon the branches. The bracelets,
necklace, and earrings were all
what is called Berlin iron-work;
but these delicate arabesques
were made in Vienna, and seemed
to have been fashioned by the
fairies who, the stories tell
us, are condemned by a jealous
Carabosse to collect the eyes
of ants, or weave a fabric so
diaphanous that a nutshell can
contain it. Madame Rabourdin's
graceful figure, made more slender
still by the black draperies,
was shown to advantage by a carefully
cut dress, the two sides of which
met at the shoulders in a single
strap without sleeves. At every
motion she seemed, like a butterfly,
to be about to leave her covering;
but the gown held firmly on by
some contrivance of the wonderful
dressmaker. The robe was of mousseline
de laine--a material which the
manufacturers had not yet sent
to the Paris markets; a delightful
stuff which some months later
was to have a wild success, a
success which went further and
lasted longer than most French
fashions. The actual economy
of mousseline de laine, which
needs no washing, has since injured
the sale of cotton fabrics enough
to revolutionize the Rouen manufactories.
Celestine's little feet, covered
with fine silk stockings and
turk-satin shoes (for silk-satin
is inadmissible in deep mourning)
were of elegant proportions.
Thus dressed, she was very handsome.
Her complexion, beautified by
a bran- bath, was softly radiant.
Her eyes, suffused with the light
of hope, and sparkling with intelligence,
justified her claims to the superiority
which des Lupeaulx, proud and
happy on this occasion, asserted
for her.
She entered the room well (women
will understand the meaning of
that expression), bowed gracefully
to the minister's wife, with
a happy mixture of deference
and of self-respect, and gave
no offence by a certain reliance
on her own dignity; for every
beautiful woman has the right
to seem a queen. With the minister
himself she took the pretty air
of sauciness which women may
properly allow themselves with
men, even when they are grand
dukes. She reconnoitred the field,
as it were, while taking her
seat, and saw that she was in
the midst of one of those select
parties of few persons, where
the women eye and appraise each
other, and every word said echoes
in all ears; where every glance
is a stab, and conversation a
duel with witnesses; where all
that is commonplace seems commoner
still, and where every form of
merit or distinction is silently
accepted as though it were the
natural level of all present.
Rabourdin betook himself to the
adjoining salon in which a few
persons were playing cards; and
there he planted himself on exhibition,
as it were, which proved that
he was not without social intelligence.
"My dear," said the Marquise
d'Espard to the Comtesse Feraud,
Louis XVIII.'s last mistress, "Paris
is certainly unique. It produces--
whence and how, who knows?--women
like this person, who seems ready
to will and to do anything."
"She really does will, and
does do everything," put in des
Lupeaulx, puffed up with satisfaction.
At this moment
the wily Madame Rabourdin was
courting the minister's
wife. Carefully coached the evening
before by des Lupeaulx, who knew
all the countess's weak spots,
she was flattering her without
seeming to do so. Every now and
then she kept silence; for des
Lupeaulx, in love as he was,
knew her defects, and said to
her the night before, "Be careful
not to talk too much,"--words
which were really an immense
proof of attachment. Bertrand
Barrere left behind him this
sublime axiom: "Never interrupt
a woman when dancing to give
her advice," to which we may
add (to make this chapter of
the female code complete), "Never
blame a woman for scattering
her pearls."
The conversation
became general. From time to
time Madame Rabourdin
joined in, just as a well-trained
cat puts a velvet paw on her
mistress's laces with the claws
carefully drawn in. The minister,
in matters of the heart, had
few emotions. There was not another
statesman under the Restoration
who had so completely done with
gallantry as he; even the opposition
papers, the "Miroir," "Pandora," and "Figaro," could
not find a single throbbing artery
with which to reproach him. Madame
Rabourdin knew this, but she
knew also that ghosts return
to old castles, and she had taken
it into her head to make the
minister jealous of the happiness
which des Lupeaulx was appearing
to enjoy. The latter's throat
literally gurgled with the name
of his divinity. To launch his
supposed mistress successfully,
he was endeavoring to persuade
the Marquise d'Espard, Madame
de Nucingen, and the countess,
in an eight-ear conversation,
that they had better admit Madame
Rabourdin to their coalition;
and Madame de Camps was supporting
him. At the end of the hour the
minister's vanity was greatly
tickled; Madame Rabourdin's cleverness
pleased him, and she had won
his wife, who, delighted with
the siren, invited her to come
to all her receptions whenever
she pleased.
"For your husband, my dear," she
said, "will soon be director;
the minister intends to unite
the two divisions and place them
under one director; you will
then be one of us, you know."
His Excellency carried off
Madame Rabourdin on his arm to
show her a certain room, which
was then quite celebrated because
the opposition journals blamed
him for decorating it extravagantly;
and together they laughed over
the absurdities of journalism.
"Madame, you
really must give the countess
and myself the pleasure
of seeing you here often."
And he went on with a round
of ministerial compliments.
"But, Monseigneur," she replied,
with one of those glances which
women hold in reserve, "it seems
to me that that depends on you."
"How so?"
"You alone
can give me the right to come
here."
"Pray explain."
"No; I said
to myself before I came that
I would certainly
not have the bad taste to seem
a petitioner."
"No, no, speak freely. Places
asked in this way are never out
of place," said the minister,
laughing; for there is no jest
too silly to amuse a solemn man.
"Well, then,
I must tell you plainly that
the wife of the
head of a bureau is out of place
here; a director's wife is not."
"That point need not be considered," said
the minister. "your husband is
indispensable to the administration;
he is already appointed."
"Is that a
veritable fact?"
"Would you
like to see the papers in my
study? They are
already drawn up."
"Then," she said, pausing in
a corner where she was alone
with the minister, whose eager
attentions were now very marked, "let
me tell you that I can make you
a return."
She was on the point of revealing
her husband's plan, when des
Lupeaulx, who had glided noiselessly
up to them, uttered an angry
sound, which meant that he did
not wish to appear to have overheard
what, in fact, he had been listening
to. The minister gave an ill-
tempered look at the old beau,
who, impatient to win his reward,
had hurried, beyond all precedent,
the preliminary work of the appointment.
He had carried the papers to
his Excellency that evening,
and desired to take himself,
on the morrow, the news of the
appointment to her whom he was
now endeavoring to exhibit as
his mistress. Just then the minister's
valet approached des Lupeaulx
in a mysterious manner, and told
him that his own servant wished
him to deliver to him at once
a letter of the utmost importance.
The general-secretary went
up to a lamp and read a note
thus worded:--
Contrary to my custom, I am
waiting in your ante-chamber
to see you; you have not a moment
to lose if you wish to come to
terms with
Your obedient servant, Gobseck.
The secretary
shuddered when he saw the signature,
which we
regret we cannot give in fac-simile,
for it would be valuable to those
who like to guess character from
what may be called the physiognomy
of signature. If ever a hieroglyphic
sign expressed an animal, it
was assuredly this written name,
in which the first and the final
letter approached each other
like the voracious jaws of a
shark,--insatiable, always open,
seeking whom to devour, both
strong and weak. As for the wording
of the note, the spirit of usury
alone could have inspired a sentence
so imperative, so insolently
curt and cruel, which said all
and revealed nothing. Those who
had never heard of Gobseck would
have felt, on reading words which
compelled him to whom they were
addressed to obey, yet gave no
order, the presence of the implacable
money- lender of the rue des
Gres. Like a dog called to heel
by the huntsman, des Lupeaulx
left his present quest and went
immediately to his own rooms,
thinking of his hazardous position.
Imagine a general to whom an
aide-de-camp rides up and says: "The
enemy with thirty thousand fresh
troops is attacking on our right
flank."
A very few words will serve
to explain this sudden arrival
of Gigonnet and Gobseck on the
field of battle,--for des Lupeaulx
found them both waiting. At eight
o'clock that evening, Martin
Falleix, returning on the wings
of the wind,--thanks to three
francs to the postboys and a
courier in advance,--had brought
back with him the deeds of the
property signed the night before.
Taken at once to the Cafe Themis
by Mitral, these securities passed
into the hands of the two usurers,
who hastened (though on foot)
to the ministry. It was past
eleven o'clock. Des Lupeaulx
trembled when he saw those sinister
faces, emitting a simultaneous
look as direct as a pistol shot
and as brilliant as the flash
itself.
"What is it, my masters?" he
said.
The two extortioners continued
cold and motionless. Gigonnet
silently pointed to the documents
in his hand, and then at the
servant.
"Come into my study," said
des Lupeaulx, dismissing his
valet by a sign.
"You understand French very
well," remarked Gigonnet, approvingly.
"Have you come
here to torment a man who enabled
each of you
to make a couple of hundred thousand
francs?"
"And who will help us to make
more, I hope," said Gigonnet.
"Some new affair?" asked des
Lupeaulx. "If you want me to
help you, consider that I recollect
the past."
"So do we," answered
Gigonnet.
"My debts must be paid," said
des Lupeaulx, disdainfully, so
as not to seem worsted at the
outset.
"True," said
Gobseck.
"Let us come to the point,
my son," said Gigonnet. "Don't
stiffen your chin in your cravat;
with us all that is useless.
Take these deeds and read them."
The two usurers took a mental
inventory of des Lupeaulx's study
while he read with amazement
and stupefaction a deed of purchase
which seemed wafted to him from
the clouds by angels.
"Don't you think you have a
pair of intelligent business
agents in Gobseck and me?" asked
Gigonnet.
"But tell me, to what do I
owe such able co-operation?" said
des Lupeaulx, suspicious and
uneasy.
"We knew eight
days ago a fact that without
us you would not
have known till to-morrow morning.
The president of the chamber
of commerce, a deputy, as you
know, feels himself obliged to
resign."
Des Lupeaulx's eyes dilated,
and were as big as daisies.
"Your minister has been tricking
you about this event," said the
concise Gobseck.
"You master me," said
the general-secretary, bowing
with an air of profound
respect, bordering however, on
sarcasm.
"True," said
Gobseck.
"Can you mean
to strangle me?"
"Possibly."
"Well, then, begin your work,
executioners," said the secretary,
smiling.
"You will see," resumed Gigonnet, "that
the sum total of your debts is
added to the sum loaned by us
for the purchase of the property;
we have bought them up."
"Here are the deeds," said
Gobseck, taking from the pocket
of his greenish overcoat a number
of legal papers.
"You have three years in which
to pay off the whole sum," said
Gigonnet.
"But," said des Lupeaulx, frightened
at such kindness, and also by
so apparently fantastic an arrangement. "What
do you want of me?"
"La Billardiere's place for
Baudoyer," said Gigonnet, quickly.
"That's a small matter, though
it will be next to impossible
for me to do it," said des Lupeaulx. "I
have just tied my hands."
"Bite the cords with your teeth," said
Gigonnet.
"They are sharp," added
Gobseck.
"Is that all?" asked
des Lupeaulx.
"We keep the title-deeds of
the property till the debts are
paid," said Gigonnet, putting
one of the papers before des
Lupeaulx; "and if the matter
of the appointment is not satisfactorily
arranged within six days our
names will be substituted in
place of yours."
"You are deep," cried
the secretary.
"Exactly," said
Gobseck.
"And this is all?" exclaimed
des Lupeaulx.
"All," said
Gobseck.
"You agree?" asked
Gigonnet.
Des Lupeaulx nodded his head.
"Well, then,
sign this power of attorney.
Within two days
Baudoyer is to be nominated;
within six your debts will be
cleared off, and--"
"And what?" asked
des Lupeaulx.
"We guarantee--"
"Guarantee!--what?" said
the secretary, more and more
astonished.
"Your election to the Chamber," said
Gigonnet, rising on his heels. "We
have secured a majority of fifty-two
farmers' and mechanics' votes,
which will be thrown precisely
as those who lend you this money
dictate."
Des Lupeaulx wrung Gigonnet's
hand.
"It is only such as we who
never misunderstand each other," he
said; "this is what I call doing
business. I'll make you a return
gift."
"Right," said
Gobseck.
"What is it?" asked
Gigonnet.
"The cross
of the Legion of honor for
your imbecile of a
nephew."
"Good," said Gigonnet, "I
see you know him well."
The pair took leave of des
Lupeaulx, who conducted them
to the staircase.
"They must be secret envoys
from foreign powers," whispered
the footmen to each other.
Once in the street, the two
usurers looked at each other
under a street lamp and laughed.
"He will owe us nine thousand
francs interest a year," said
Gigonnet; "that property doesn't
bring him in five."
"He is under our thumb for
a long time," said Gobseck.
"He'll build; he'll commit
extravagancies," continued Gigonnet; "Falleix
will get his land."
"His interest is only to be
made deputy; the old fox laughs
at the rest," said Gobseck.
"Hey! hey!"
"Hi! hi!"
These dry little exclamations
served as a laugh to the two
old men, who took their way back
(always on foot) to the Cafe
Themis.
Des Lupeaulx returned to the
salon and found Madame Rabourdin
sailing with the wind of success,
and very charming; while his
Excellency, usually so gloomy,
showed a smooth and gracious
countenance.
"She performs miracles," thought
des Lupeaulx. "What a wonderfully
clever woman! I must get to the
bottom of her heart."
"Your little lady is decidedly
handsome," said the Marquise
to the secretary; "now if she
only had your name."
"Yes, her defect is that she
is the daughter of an auctioneer.
She will fail for want of birth," replied
des Lupeaulx, with a cold manner
that contrasted strangely with
the ardor of his remarks about
Madame Rabourdin not half an
hour earlier.
The marquise looked at him
fixedly.
"The glance you gave them did
not escape me," she said, motioning
towards the minister and Madame
Rabourdin; "it pierced the mask
of your spectacles. How amusing
you both are, to quarrel over
that bone!"
As the marquise turned to leave
the room the minister joined
her and escorted her to the door.
"Well," said des Lupeaulx to
Madame Rabourdin, "what do you
think of his Excellency?"
"He is charming. We must know
these poor ministers to appreciate
them," she added, slightly raising
her voice so as to be heard by
his Excellency's wife. "The newspapers
and the opposition calumnies
are so misleading about men in
politics that we are all more
or less influenced by them; but
such prejudices turn to the advantage
of statesmen when we come to
know them personally."
"He is very good-looking," said
des Lupeaulx.
"Yes, and I assure you he is
quite lovable," she said, heartily.
"Dear child," said des Lupeaulx,
with a genial, caressing manner; "you
have actually done the impossible."
"What is that?"
"Resuscitated the dead. I did
not think that man had a heart;
ask his wife. But he may have
just enough for a passing fancy.
Therefore profit by it. Come
this way, and don't be surprised." He
led Madame Rabourdin into the
boudoir, placed her on a sofa,
and sat down beside her. "You
are very sly," he said, "and
I like you the better for it.
Between ourselves, you are a
clever woman. Des Lupeaulx served
to bring you into this house,
and that is all you wanted of
him, isn't it? Now when a woman
decides to love a man for what
she can get out of him it is
better to take a sexagenarian
Excellency than a quadragenarian
secretary; there's more profit
and less annoyance. I'm a man
with spectacles, grizzled hair,
worn out with dissipation,--a
fine lover, truly! I tell myself
all this again and again. It
must be admitted, of course,
that I can sometimes be useful,
but never agreeable. Isn't that
so? A man must be a fool if he
cannot reason about himself.
You can safely admit the truth
and let me see to the depths
of your heart; we are partners,
not lovers. If I show some tenderness
at times, you are too superior
a woman to pay any attention
to such follies; you will forgive
me,--you are not a school-girl,
or a bourgeoise of the rue Saint-Denis.
Bah! you and I are too well brought
up for that. There's the Marquise
d'Espard who has just left the
room; this is precisely what
she thinks and does. She and
I came to an understanding two
years ago [the coxcomb!], and
now she has only to write me
a line and say, 'My dear des
Lupeaulx, you will oblige me
by doing such and such a thing,'
and it is done at once. We are
engaged at this very moment in
getting a commission of lunacy
on her husband. Ah! you women,
you can get what you want by
the bestowal of a few favors.
Well, then, my dear child, bewitch
the minister. I'll help you;
it is my interest to do so. Yes,
I wish he had a woman who could
influence him; he wouldn't escape
me,--for he does escape me quite
often, and the reason is that
I hold him only through his intellect.
Now if I were one with a pretty
woman who was also intimate with
him, I should hold him by his
weaknesses, and that is much
the firmest grip. Therefore,
let us be friends, you and I,
and share the advantages of the
conquest you are making."
Madame Rabourdin listened in
amazement to this singular profession
of rascality. The apparent artlessness
of this political swindler prevented
her from suspecting a trick.
"Do you believe he really thinks
of me?" she asked, falling into
the trap.
"I know it;
I am certain of it."
"Is it true
that Rabourdin's appointment
is signed?"
"I gave him
the papers this morning. But
it is not enough
that your husband should be made
director; he must be Master of
petitions."
"Yes," she
said.
"Well, then,
go back to the salon and coquette
a little more
with his Excellency."
"It is true," she said, "that
I never fully understood you
till to-night. There is nothing
commonplace about YOU."
"We will be two old friends," said
des Lupeaulx, "and suppress all
tender nonsense and tormenting
love; we will take things as
they did under the Regency. Ah!
they had plenty of wit and wisdom
in those days!"
"You are really strong; you
deserve my admiration," she said,
smiling, and holding out her
hand to him, "one does more for
one's friend, you know, than
for one's--"
She left him without finishing
her sentence.
"Dear creature!" thought des
Lupeaulx, as he saw her approach
the minister, "des Lupeaulx has
no longer the slightest remorse
in turning against you. To-morrow
evening when you offer me a cup
of tea, you will be offering
me a thing I no longer care for.
All is over. Ah! when a man is
forty years of age women may
take pains to catch him, but
they won't love him."
He looked himself
over in a mirror, admitting
honestly that
though he did very well as a
politician he was a wreck on
the shores of Cythera. At the
same moment Madame Rabourdin
was gathering herself together
for a becoming exit. She wished
to make a last graceful impression
on the minds of all, and she
succeeded. Contrary to the usual
custom in society, every one
cried out as soon as she was
gone, "What a charming woman!" and
the minister himself took her
to the outer door.
"I am quite sure you will think
of me to-morrow," he said, alluding
to the appointment.
"There are so few high functionaries
who have agreeable wives," remarked
his Excellency on re-entering
the room, "that I am very well
satisfied with our new acquisition."
"Don't you think her a little
overpowering?" said des Lupeaulx
with a piqued air.
The women present all exchanged
expressive glances; the rivalry
between the minister and his
secretary amused them and instigated
one of those pretty little comedies
which Parisian women play so
well. They excited and led on
his Excellency and des Lupeaulx
by a series of comments on Madame
Rabourdin: one thought her too
studied in manner, too eager
to appear clever; another compared
the graces of the middle classes
with the manners of high life,
while des Lupeaulx defended his
pretended mistress as we all
defend an enemy in society.
"Do her justice, ladies," he
said; "is it not extraordinary
that the daughter of an auctioneer
should appear as well as she
does? See where she came from,
and what she is. She will end
in the Tuileries; that is what
she intends,--she told me so."
"Suppose she is the daughter
of an auctioneer," said the Comtesse
Feraud, smiling, "that will not
hinder her husband's rise to
power."
"Not in these days, you mean," said
the minister's wife, tightening
her lips.
"Madame," said his Excellency
to the countess, sternly, "such
sentiments and such speeches
lead to revolutions; unhappily,
the court and the great world
do not restrain them. You would
hardly believe, however, how
the injudicious conduct of the
aristocracy in this respect displeases
certain clear-sighted personages
at the palace. If I were a great
lord, instead of being, as I
am, a mere country gentleman
who seems to be placed where
he is to transact your business
for you, the monarchy would not
be as insecure as I now think
it is. What becomes of a throne
which does not bestow dignity
on those who administer its government?
We are far indeed from the days
when a king could make men great
at will,--such men as Louvois,
Colbert, Richelieu, Jeannin,
Villeroy, Sully,--Sully, in his
origin, was no greater than I.
I speak to you thus because we
are here in private among ourselves.
I should be very paltry indeed
if I were personally offended
by such speeches. After all,
it is for us and not for others
to make us great."
"You are appointed, dear," cried
Celestine, pressing her husband's
hand as they drove away. "If
it had not been for des Lupeaulx
I should have explained your
scheme to his Excellency. But
I will do it next Tuesday, and
it will help the further matter
of making you Master of petitions."
In the life of every woman
there comes a day when she shines
in all her glory; a day which
gives her an unfading recollection
to which she recurs with happiness
all her life. As Madame Rabourdin
took off one by one the ornaments
of her apparel, she thought over
the events of this evening, and
marked the day among the triumphs
and glories of her life,--all
her beauties had been seen and
envied, she had been praised
and flattered by the minister's
wife, delighted thus to make
the other women jealous of her;
but, above all, her grace and
vanities had shone to the profit
of conjugal love. Her husband
was appointed.
"Did you think I looked well
to-night?" she said to him, joyously.
At the same instant Mitral,
waiting at the Cafe Themis, saw
the two usurers returning, but
was unable to perceive the slightest
indications of the result on
their impassible faces.
"What of it?" he
said, when they were all seated
at table.
"Same as ever," replied Gigonnet,
rubbing his hands, "victory with
gold."
"True," said
Gobseck.
Mitral took a cabriolet and
went straight to the Saillards
and Baudoyers, who were still
playing boston at a late hour.
No one was present but the Abbe
Gaudron. Falleix, half-dead with
the fatigue of his journey, had
gone to bed.
"You will be appointed, nephew," said
Mitral; "and there's a surprise
in store for you."
"What is it?" asked
Saillard.
"The cross of the Legion of
honor?" cried Mitral.
"God protects those who guard
his altars," said Gaudron.
Thus the Te Deum was sung with
equal joy and confidence in both
camps.
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