THE TWO BROTHERS

 BY

 HONORE DE BALZAC

 Translated by

 Katharine Prescott Wormeley

 DEDICATION

To Monsieur Charles Nodier, member of the French Academy, etc. 

Here, my dear Nodier, is a book filled with deeds that arescreened from the action of the laws by the closed doors ofdomestic life; but as to which the finger of God, often calledchance, supplies the place of human justice, and in which themoral is none the less striking and instructive because it ispointed by a scoffer. 

To my mind, such deeds contain great lessons for the Familyand for Maternity. We shall some day realize, perhaps toolate, the effects produced by the diminution of paternalauthority. That authority, which formerly ceased only at thedeath of the father, was the sole human tribunal before whichdomestic crimes could be arraigned; kings themselves, onspecial occasions, took part in executing its judgments. However good and tender a mother may be, she cannot fulfil thefunction of the patriarchal royalty any more than a woman cantake the place of a king upon the throne. Perhaps I have neverdrawn a picture that shows more plainly how essential toEuropean society is the indissoluble marriage bond, how fatalthe results of feminine weakness, how great the dangersarising from selfish interests when indulged withoutrestraint. May a society which is based solely on the power ofwealth shudder as it sees the impotence of the law in dealingwith the workings of a system which deifies success, andpardons every means of attaining it. May it return to theCatholic religion, for the purification of its masses throughthe inspiration of religious feeling, and by means of aneducation other than that of a lay university. 

In the "Scenes from Military Life" so many fine natures, somany high and noble self-devotions will be set forth, that Imay here be allowed to point out the depraving effect of thenecessities of war upon certain minds who venture to act indomestic life as if upon the field of battle. 

You have cast a sagacious glance over the events of our owntime; its philosophy shines, in more than one bitterreflection, through your elegant pages; you have appreciated, more clearly than other men, the havoc wrought in the mind ofour country by the existence of four distinct politicalsystems. I cannot, therefore, place this history under theprotection of a more competent authority. Your name may, perhaps, defend my work against the criticisms that arecertain to follow it, --for where is the patient who keepssilence when the surgeon lifts the dressing from his wound?

To the pleasure of dedicating this Scene to you, is joined thepride I feel in thus making known your friendship for one whohere subscribes himself

 Your sincere admirer, De Balzac Paris, November, 1842. 

 THE TWO BROTHERS

 CHAPTER I

In 1792 the townspeople of Issoudun enjoyed the services of aphysician named Rouget, whom they held to be a man of consummatemalignity. Were we to believe certain bold tongues, he made his wifeextremely unhappy, although she was the most beautiful woman of theneighborhood. Perhaps, indeed, she was rather silly. But the prying offriends, the slander of enemies, and the gossip of acquaintances, hadnever succeeded in laying bare the interior of that household. DoctorRouget was a man of whom we say in common parlance, "He is notpleasant to deal with. " Consequently, during his lifetime, histownsmen kept silence about him and treated him civilly. His wife, ademoiselle Descoings, feeble in health during her girlhood (which wassaid 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 herbrother, and whose birth took the husband, doctor though he were, bysurprise. This late-comer was named Agathe. 

These little facts are so simple, so commonplace, that a writer seemsscarcely 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 bethought a monster, an unnatural father, when, in point of fact, he wasonly following out the evil tendencies which many people shelter underthe terrible axiom that "men should have strength of character, "--amasculine phrase that has caused many a woman's misery. 

The Descoings, father-in-law and mother-in-law of the doctor, werecommission merchants in the wool-trade, and did a double business byselling for the producers and buying for the manufacturers of thegolden fleeces of Berry; thus pocketing a commission on both sides. Inthis way they grew rich and miserly--the outcome of many such lives. Descoings the son, younger brother of Madame Rouget, did not likeIssoudun. He went to seek his fortune in Paris, where he set up as agrocer in the rue Saint-Honore. That step led to his ruin. But nothingcould have hindered it: a grocer is drawn to his business by anattracting force quite equal to the repelling force which drivesartists away from it. We do not sufficiently study the socialpotentialities which make up the various vocations of life. It wouldbe interesting to know what determines one man to be a stationerrather than a baker; since, in our day, sons are not compelled tofollow the calling of their fathers, as they were among the Egyptians. In this instance, love decided the vocation of Descoings. He said tohimself, "I, too, will be a grocer!" and in the same breath he said(also to himself) some other things regarding his employer, --abeautiful creature, with whom he had fallen desperately in love. Without other help than patience and the trifling sum of money hisfather and mother sent him, he married the widow of his predecessor, Monsieur Bixiou. 

In 1792 Descoings was thought to be doing an excellent business. Atthat time, the old Descoings were still living. They had retired fromthe wool-trade, and were employing their capital in buying up theforfeited estates, --another golden fleece! Their son-in-law DoctorRouget, who, about this time, felt pretty sure that he should soonhave to mourn for the death of his wife, sent his daughter to Paris tothe care of his brother-in-law, partly to let her see the capital, butstill more to carry out an artful scheme of his own. Descoings had nochildren. Madame Descoings, twelve years older than her husband, wasin good health, but as fat as a thrush after harvest; and the cannyRouget knew enough professionally to be certain that Monsieur andMadame Descoings, contrary to the moral of fairy tales, would livehappy ever after without having any children. The pair might thereforebecome attached to Agathe. 

That young girl, the handsomest maiden in Issoudun, did not resembleeither father or mother. Her birth had caused a lasting breach betweenDoctor Rouget and his intimate friend Monsieur Lousteau, a formersub-delegate who had lately removed from the town. When a familyexpatriates itself, the natives of a place as attractive as Issoudunhave a right to inquire into the reasons of so surprising a step. Itwas said by certain sharp tongues that Doctor Rouget, a vindictiveman, had been heard to exclaim that Monsieur Lousteau should die byhis hand. Uttered by a physician, this declaration had the force of acannon-ball. When the National Assembly suppressed the sub-delegates, Lousteau and his family left Issoudun, and never returned there. Aftertheir departure Madame Rouget spent most of her time with the sisterof the late sub-delegate, Madame Hochon, who was the godmother of herdaughter, and the only person to whom she confided her griefs. Thelittle that the good town of Issoudun ever really knew of thebeautiful Madame Rouget was told by Madame Hochon, --though not untilafter the doctor's death. 

The first words of Madame Rouget, when informed by her husband that hemeant to send Agathe to Paris, were: "I shall never see my daughteragain. "

"And she was right, " said the worthy Madame Hochon. 

After this, the poor mother grew as yellow as a quince, and herappearance did not contradict the tongues of those who declared thatDoctor Rouget was killing her by inches. The behavior of her booby ofa son must have added to the misery of the poor woman so unjustlyaccused. Not restrained, possibly encouraged by his father, the youngfellow, who was in every way stupid, paid her neither the attentionsnor the respect which a son owes to a mother. Jean-Jacques Rouget waslike his father, especially on the latter's worst side; and the doctorat his best was far from satisfactory, either morally or physically. 

The arrival of the charming Agathe Rouget did not bring happiness toher uncle Descoings; for in the same week (or rather, we should saydecade, for the Republic had then been proclaimed) he was imprisonedon a hint from Robespierre given to Fouquier-Tinville. Descoings, whowas imprudent enough to think the famine fictitious, had theadditional folly, under the impression that opinions were free, toexpress that opinion to several of his male and female customers as heserved them in the grocery. The citoyenne Duplay, wife of acabinet-maker with whom Robespierre lodged, and who looked after theaffairs of that eminent citizen, patronized, unfortunately, theDescoings establishment. She considered the opinions of the grocerinsulting to Maximilian the First. Already displeased with the mannersof Descoings, this illustrious "tricoteuse" of the Jacobin club regardedthe beauty of his wife as a kind of aristocracy. She infused a venomof her own into the grocer's remarks when she repeated them to hergood and gentle master, and the poor man was speedily arrested on thewell-worn charge of "accaparation. "

No sooner was he put in prison, than his wife set to work to obtainhis release. But the steps she took were so ill-judged that any onehearing her talk to the arbiters of his fate might have thought thatshe was in reality seeking to get rid of him. Madame Descoings knewBridau, one of the secretaries of Roland, then minister of theinterior, --the right-hand man of all the ministers who succeeded eachother in that office. She put Bridau on the war-path to save hergrocer. That incorruptible official--one of the virtuous dupes who arealways admirably disinterested--was careful not to corrupt the men onwhom the fate of the poor grocer depended; on the contrary, heendeavored to enlighten them. Enlighten people in those days! As wellmight he have begged them to bring back the Bourbons. The Girondistminister, who was then contending against Robespierre, said to hissecretary, "Why do you meddle in the matter?" and all others to whomthe worthy Bridau appealed made the same atrocious reply: "Why do youmeddle?" Bridau then sagely advised Madame Descoings to keep quiet andawait events. But instead of conciliating Robespierre's housekeeper, she fretted and fumed against that informer, and even complained to amember of the Convention, who, trembling for himself, replied hastily, "I will speak of it to Robespierre. " The handsome petitioner put faithin this promise, which the other carefully forgot. A few loaves ofsugar, or a bottle or two of good liqueur, given to the citoyenneDuplay would have saved Descoings. 

This little mishap proves that in revolutionary times it is quite asdangerous to employ honest men as scoundrels; we should rely onourselves alone. Descoings perished; but he had the glory of going tothe scaffold with Andre Chenier. There, no doubt, grocery and poetryembraced for the first time in the flesh; although they have, and everhave had, intimate secret relations. The death of Descoings producedfar more sensation than that of Andre Chenier. It has taken thirtyyears to prove to France that she lost more by the death of Chenierthan by that of Descoings. 

This act of Robespierre led to one good result: the terrified grocerslet politics alone until 1830. Descoings's shop was not a hundredyards from Robespierre's lodging. His successor was scarcely morefortunate than himself. Cesar Birotteau, the celebrated perfumer ofthe "Queen of Roses, " bought the premises; but, as if the scaffold hadleft some inexplicable contagion behind it, the inventor of the "Pasteof Sultans" and the "Carminative Balm" came to his ruin in that veryshop. The solution of the problem here suggested belongs to the realmof occult science. 

During the visits which Roland's secretary paid to the unfortunateMadame Descoings, he was struck with the cold, calm, innocent beautyof Agathe Rouget. While consoling the widow, who, however, was tooinconsolable to carry on the business of her second deceased husband, he married the charming girl, with the consent of her father, whohastened to give his approval to the match. Doctor Rouget, delightedto hear that matters were going beyond his expectations, --for hiswife, on the death of her brother, had become sole heiress of theDescoings, --rushed to Paris, not so much to be present at the weddingas to see that the marriage contract was drawn to suit him. The ardentand disinterested love of citizen Bridau gave carte blanche to theperfidious doctor, who made the most of his son-in-law's blindness, asthe following history will show. 

Madame Rouget, or, to speak more correctly, the doctor, inherited allthe property, landed and personal, of Monsieur and Madame Descoingsthe elder, who died within two years of each other; and soon afterthat, Rouget got the better, as we may say, of his wife, for she diedat the beginning of the year 1799. So he had vineyards and he boughtfarms, he owned iron-works and he sold fleeces. His well-beloved sonwas stupidly incapable of doing anything; but the father destined himfor the state in life of a land proprietor and allowed him to grow upin wealth and silliness, certain that the lad would know as much asthe wisest if he simply let himself live and die. After 1799, thecipherers of Issoudun put, at the very least, thirty thousand francs'income to the doctor's credit. From the time of his wife's death heled a debauched life, though he regulated it, so to speak, and kept itwithin the closed doors of his own house. This man, endowed with "strengthof character, " died in 1805, and God only knows what the townspeopleof Issoudun said about him then, and how many anecdotes they relatedof his horrible private life. Jean-Jacques Rouget, whom his father, recognizing his stupidity, had latterly treated with severity, remained a bachelor for certain reasons, the explanation of which willform an important part of this history. His celibacy was partly hisfather's fault, as we shall see later. 

Meantime, it is well to inquire into the results of the secretvengeance the doctor took on a daughter whom he did not recognize ashis own, but who, you must understand at once, was legitimately his. Not a person in Issoudun had noticed one of those capricious factsthat make the whole subject of generation a vast abyss in whichscience flounders. Agathe bore a strong likeness to the mother ofDoctor Rouget. Just as gout is said to skip a generation and pass fromgrandfather to grandson, resemblances not uncommonly follow the samecourse. 

In like manner, the eldest of Agathe's children, who physicallyresembled his mother, had the moral qualities of his grandfather, Doctor Rouget. We will leave the solution of this problem to thetwentieth century, with a fine collection of microscopic animalculae;our descendants may perhaps write as much nonsense as the scientificschools of the nineteenth century have uttered on this mysterious andperplexing 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 ofBridau, shows a perfect oval and a clear whiteness of complexion, without the faintest tinge of color, in spite of her golden hair. Morethan one artist, looking at the pure brow, the discreet, composedmouth, the delicate nose, the small ears, the long lashes, and thedark-blue eyes filled with tenderness, --in short, at the wholecountenance expressive of placidity, --has asked the great artist, "Isthat a copy of a Raphael?" No man ever acted under a truer inspirationthan the minister's secretary when he married this young girl. Agathewas an embodiment of the ideal housekeeper brought up in the provincesand never parted from her mother. Pious, though far fromsanctimonious, she had no other education than that given to women bythe Church. Judged, by ordinary standards, she was an accomplishedwife, yet her ignorance of life paved the way for great misfortunes. The epitaph on the Roman matron, "She did needlework and kept thehouse, " gives a faithful picture of her simple, pure, and tranquilexistence. 

Under the Consulate, Bridau attached himself fanatically to Napoleon, who placed him at the head of a department in the ministry of theinterior in 1804, a year before the death of Doctor Rouget. With asalary of twelve thousand francs and very handsome emoluments, Bridauwas quite indifferent to the scandalous settlement of the property atIssoudun, by which Agathe was deprived of her rightful inheritance. Six months before Doctor Rouget's death he had sold one-half of hisproperty 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 fiftythousand francs on her inheritance, made to Agathe at the time of hermarriage, represented her share of the property of her father andmother. 

Bridau idolized the Emperor, and served him with the devotion of aMohammedan for his prophet; striving to carry out the vast conceptionsof the modern demi-god, who, finding the whole fabric of Francedestroyed, went to work to reconstruct everything. The new officialnever showed fatigue, never cried "Enough. " Projects, reports, notes, studies, he accepted all, even the hardest labors, happy in theconsciousness of aiding his Emperor. He loved him as a man, he adoredhim as a sovereign, and he would never allow the least criticism ofhis acts or his purposes. 

From 1804 to 1808, the Bridaus lived in a handsome suite of rooms onthe Quai Voltaire, a few steps from the ministry of the interior andclose to the Tuileries. A cook and footman were the only servants ofthe household during this period of Madame Bridau's grandeur. Agathe, early afoot, went to market with her cook. While the latter did therooms, she prepared the breakfast. Bridau never went to the ministrybefore eleven o'clock. As long as their union lasted, his wife tookthe same unwearying pleasure in preparing for him an exquisitebreakfast, the only meal he really enjoyed. At all seasons and in allweathers, Agathe watched her husband from the window as he walkedtoward his office, and never drew in her head until she had seen himturn the corner of the rue du Bac. Then she cleared thebreakfast-table herself, gave an eye to the arrangement of the rooms, dressed for the day, played with her children and took them to walk, or received the visits of friends; all the while waiting in spirit forBridau's return. If her husband brought him important business thathad to be attended to, she would station herself close to thewriting-table in his study, silent as a statue, knitting while hewrote, sitting up as late as he did, and going to bed only a fewmoments before him. Occasionally, the pair went to some theatre, occupying one of the ministerial boxes. On those days, they dined at arestaurant, and the gay scenes of that establishment never ceased togive Madame Bridau the same lively pleasure they afford to provincialswho are new to Paris. Agathe, who was obliged to accept the formaldinners sometimes given to the head of a department in a ministry, paiddue attention to the luxurious requirements of the then mode of dress, but she took off the rich apparel with delight when she returned home, and resumed the simple garb of a provincial. 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 threeyears apart, and the death of Bridau, who died in 1808, killed byoverwork at the very moment when the Emperor was about to appoint himdirector-general, count, and councillor of state. At this period ofhis reign, Napoleon was particularly absorbed in the affairs of theinterior; he overwhelmed Bridau with work, and finally wrecked thehealth of that dauntless bureaucrat. The Emperor, of whom Bridau hadnever asked a favor, made inquiries into his habits and fortune. Finding that this devoted servant literally had nothing but hissituation, Napoleon recognized him as one of the incorruptible natureswhich raised the character of his government and gave moral weight toit, and he wished to surprise him by the gift of some distinguishedreward. But the effort to complete a certain work, involving immenselabor, before the departure of the Emperor for Spain caused the deathof the devoted servant, who was seized with an inflammatory fever. When the Emperor, who remained in Paris for a few days after hisreturn to prepare for the campaign of 1809, was told of Bridau'sdeath he said: "There are men who can never be replaced. " Struck bythe spectacle of a devotion which could receive none of the brilliantrecognitions that reward a soldier, the Emperor resolved to create anorder to requite civil services, just as he had already created theLegion of honor to reward the military. The impression he receivedfrom the death of Bridau led him to plan the order of the Reunion. Hehad not time, however, to mature this aristocratic scheme, therecollection of which is now so completely effaced that many of myreaders may ask what were its insignia: the order was worn with a blueribbon. The Emperor called it the Reunion, under the idea of unitingthe order of the Golden Fleece of Spain with the order of the GoldenFleece of Austria. "Providence, " said a Prussian diplomatist, "tookcare to frustrate the profanation. "

After Bridau's death the Emperor inquired into the circumstances ofhis widow. Her two sons each received a scholarship in the ImperialLyceum, and the Emperor paid the whole costs of their education fromhis privy purse. He gave Madame Bridau a pension of four thousandfrancs, intending, no doubt, to advance the fortune of her sons infuture years. 

From the time of her marriage to the death of her husband, Agathe hadheld no communication with Issoudun. She lost her mother just as shewas on the point of giving birth to her youngest son, and when herfather, who, as she well knew, loved her little, died, the coronationof the Emperor was at hand, and that event gave Bridau so muchadditional work that she was unwilling to leave him. Her brother, Jean-Jacques Rouget, had not written to her since she left Issoudun. Though grieved by the tacit repudiation of her family, Agathe had cometo think seldom of those who never thought of her. Once a year shereceived a letter from her godmother, Madame Hochon, to whom shereplied with commonplaces, paying no heed to the advice which thatpious and excellent woman gave to her, disguised in cautious words. 

Some time before the death of Doctor Rouget, Madame Hochon had writtento her goddaughter warning her that she would get nothing from herfather's estate unless she gave a power of attorney to MonsieurHochon. Agathe was very reluctant to harass her brother. Whether itwere that Bridau thought the spoliation of his wife in accordance withthe laws and customs of Berry, or that, high-minded as he was, heshared the magnanimity of his wife, certain it is that he would notlisten to Roguin, his notary, who advised him to take advantage of hisministerial position to contest the deeds by which the father haddeprived the daughter of her legitimate inheritance. Husband and wifethus tacitly sanctioned what was done at Issoudun. Nevertheless, Roguin had forced Bridau to reflect upon the future interests of hiswife which were thus compromised. He saw that if he died before her, Agathe would be left without property, and this led him to look intohis own affairs. He found that between 1793 and 1805 his wife and hehad been obliged to use nearly thirty thousand of the fifty thousandfrancs in cash which old Rouget had given to his daughter at the timeof her marriage. He at once invested the remaining twenty thousand inthe public funds, then quoted at forty, and from this source Agathereceived about two thousand francs a year. As a widow, Madame Bridaucould live suitably on an income of six thousand francs. Withprovincial good sense, she thought of changing her residence, dismissing the footman, and keeping no servant except a cook; but herintimate friend, Madame Descoings, who insisted on being consideredher 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 ajoint income of twelve thousand francs a year. This seems a verysimple and natural proceeding. But nothing in life is more deservingof attention than the things that are called natural; we are on ourguard against the unnatural and extraordinary. For this reason, youwill find men of experience--lawyers, judges, doctors, and priests--attaching immense importance to simple matters; and they are oftenthought over-scrupulous. But the serpent amid flowers is one of thefinest myths that antiquity has bequeathed for the guidance of ourlives. How often we hear fools, trying to excuse themselves in theirown eyes or in the eyes of others, exclaiming, "It was all so naturalthat any one would have been taken in. "

In 1809, Madame Descoings, who never told her age, was sixty-five. Inher heyday she had been popularly called a beauty, and was now one ofthose rare women whom time respects. She owed to her excellentconstitution 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 herhusband's catastrophe, not a tinge of gray. She loved good cheer, andliked to concoct nice little made dishes; yet, fond as she was ofeating, she also adored the theatre and cherished a vice which shewrapped in impenetrable mystery--she bought into lotteries. Can thatbe the abyss of which mythology warns us under the fable of theDanaides and their cask? Madame Descoings, like other women who arelucky enough to keep young for many years, spend rather too much uponher dress; but aside from these trifling defects she was thepleasantest of women to live with. Of every one's opinion, neveropposing anybody, her kindly and communicative gayety gave pleasure toall. She had, moreover, a Parisian quality which charmed the retiredclerks and elderly merchants of her circle, --she could take and give ajest. If she did not marry a third time it was no doubt the fault ofthe times. During the wars of the Empire, marrying men found rich andhandsome girls too easily to trouble themselves about women of sixty. 

Madame Descoings, always anxious to cheer Madame Bridau, often tookthe latter to the theatre, or to drive; prepared excellent littledinners for her delectation, and even tried to marry her to her ownson by her first husband, Bixiou. Alas! to do this, she was forced toreveal a terrible secret, carefully kept by her, by her late husband, and by her notary. The young and beautiful Madame Descoings, whopassed for thirty-six years old, had a son who was thirty-five, namedBixiou, already a widower, a major in the Twenty-Fourth Infantry, whosubsequently perished at Lutzen, leaving behind him an only son. Madame Descoings, who only saw her grandson secretly, gave out that hewas the son of the first wife of her first husband. The revelation waspartly a prudential act; for this grandson was being educated withMadame Bridau's sons at the Imperial Lyceum, where he had ahalf-scholarship. The lad, who was clever and shrewd at school, soonafter made himself a great reputation as draughtsman and designer, andalso as a wit. 

Agathe, who lived only for her children, declined to re-marry, as muchfrom good sense as from fidelity to her husband. But it is easier fora woman to be a good wife than to be a good mother. A widow has twotasks before her, whose duties clash: she is a mother, and yet shemust exercise parental authority. Few women are firm enough tounderstand and practise this double duty. Thus it happened thatAgathe, notwithstanding her many virtues, was the innocent cause ofgreat unhappiness. In the first place, through her lack ofintelligence and the blind confidence to which such noble natures areprone, Agathe fell a victim to Madame Descoings, who brought aterrible misfortune on the family. That worthy soul was nursing up acombination of three numbers called a "trey" in a lottery, andlotteries give no credit to their customers. As manager of the jointhousehold, she was able to pay up her stakes with the money intendedfor their current expenses, and she went deeper and deeper into debt, with the hope of ultimately enriching her grandson Bixiou, her dearAgathe, and the little Bridaus. When the debts amounted to tenthousand francs, she increased her stakes, trusting that her favoritetrey, which had not turned up in nine years, would come at last, andfill to overflowing the abysmal deficit. 

From that moment the debt rolled up rapidly. When it reached twentythousand francs, Madame Descoings lost her head, still failing to winthe trey. She tried to mortgage her own property to pay her niece, butRoguin, who was her notary, showed her the impossibility of carryingout that honorable intention. The late Doctor Rouget had laid hold ofthe property of the brother-in-law after the grocer's execution, andhad, as it were, disinherited Madame Descoings by securing to her alife-interest on the property of his own son, Jean-Jacques Rouget. Nomoney-lender would think of advancing twenty thousand francs to awoman sixty-six years of age, on an annuity of about four thousand, ata period when ten per cent could easily be got for an investment. Soone morning Madame Descoings fell at the feet of her niece, and withsobs confessed the state of things. Madame Bridau did not reproachher; she sent away the footman and cook, sold all but the barenecessities of her furniture, sold also three-fourths of hergovernment funds, paid off the debts, and bade farewell to her_appartement_. 

 CHAPTER II

One of the worst corners in all Paris is undoubtedly that part of therue Mazarin which lies between the rue Guenegard and its junction withthe rue de Seine, behind the palace of the Institute. The high graywalls of the college and of the library which Cardinal Mazarinpresented to the city of Paris, and which the French Academy was inafter days to inhabit, cast chill shadows over this angle of thestreet, where the sun seldom shines, and the north wind blows. Thepoor ruined widow came to live on the third floor of a house standingat this damp, dark, cold corner. Opposite, rose the Institutebuildings, in which were the dens of ferocious animals known to thebourgeoisie under the name of artists, --under that of tyro, or rapin, in the studios. Into these dens they enter rapins, but they may comeforth prix de Rome. The transformation does not take place withoutextraordinary uproar and disturbance at the time of year when theexaminations are going on, and the competitors are shut up in theircells. To win a prize, they were obliged, within a given time, tomake, if a sculptor, a clay model; if a painter, a picture such as maybe seen at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts; if a musician, a cantata; if anarchitect, the plans for a public building. At the time when we arepenning the words, this menagerie has already been removed from thesecold and cheerless buildings, and taken to the elegant Palais desBeaux-Arts, which stands near by. 

From the windows of Madame Bridau's new abode, a glance couldpenetrate the depths of those melancholy barred cages. To the north, the view was shut in by the dome of the Institute; looking up thestreet, the only distraction to the eye was a file of hackney-coaches, which stood at the upper end of the rue Mazarin. After a while, thewidow put boxes of earth in front of her windows, and cultivated thoseaerial gardens that police regulations forbid, though their vegetableproducts purify the atmosphere. The house, which backed up againstanother fronting on the rue de Seine, was necessarily shallow, and thestaircase wound round upon itself. The third floor was the last. Threewindows to three rooms, namely, a dining-room, a small salon, and achamber 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 itcost only four hundred francs a year, so that she took a lease of itfor nine years; proximity to her sons' school, the Imperial Lyceumbeing at a short distance; thirdly, because it was in the quarter towhich she was used. 

The inside of the _appartement_ was in keeping with the general look ofthe house. The dining-room, hung with a yellow paper covered withlittle green flowers, and floored with tiles that were not glazed, contained nothing that was not strictly necessary, --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 theministry of the interior was refurnished. To the furniture of thisroom the widow added one of those commonplace mahogany sofas with theEgyptian heads that Jacob Desmalter manufactured by the gross in 1806, covering them with a silken green stuff bearing a design of whitegeometric circles. Above this piece of furniture hung a portrait ofBridau, done in pastel by the hand of an amateur, which at onceattracted the eye. Though art might have something to say against it, no one could fail to recognize the firmness of the noble and obscurecitizen upon that brow. The serenity of the eyes, gentle, yet proud, was well given; the sagacious mind, to which the prudent lips boretestimony, the frank smile, the atmosphere of the man of whom theEmperor had said, "Justum et tenacem, " had all been caught, if notwith talent, at least with fidelity. Studying that face, an observercould see that the man had done his duty. His countenance bore signsof the incorruptibility which we attribute to several men who servedthe Republic. On the opposite wall, over a card-table, flashed apicture of the Emperor in brilliant colors, done by Vernet; Napoleonwas riding rapidly, attended by his escort. 

Agathe had bestowed upon herself two large birdcages; one filled withcanaries, the other with Java sparrows. She had given herself up tothis 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, herwidowed chamber had become what it was destined to remain until theappointed day when she left it forever, --a litter of confusion whichwords are powerless to describe. Cats were domiciled on the sofa. Thecanaries, occasionally let loose, left their commas on the furniture. The poor dear woman scattered little heaps of millet and bits ofchickweed about the room, and put tidbits for the cats in brokensaucers. Garments lay everywhere. The room breathed of the provincesand of constancy. Everything that once belonged to Bridau wasscrupulously preserved. Even the implements in his desk received thecare which the widow of a paladin might have bestowed upon herhusband's armor. One slight detail here will serve to bring the tenderdevotion of this woman before the reader's mind. She had wrapped up apen and sealed the package, on which she wrote these words, "Last penused by my dear husband. " The cup from which he drank his last draughtwas on the fireplace; caps and false hair were tossed, at a laterperiod, over the glass globes which covered these precious relics. After Bridau's death not a trace of coquetry, not even a woman'sordinary care of her person, was left in the young widow ofthirty-five. Parted from the only man she had ever known, esteemed, andloved, from one who had never caused her the slightest unhappiness, she was no longer conscious of her womanhood; all things were asnothing to her; she no longer even thought of her dress. Nothing wasever more simply done or more complete than this laying down ofconjugal happiness and personal charm. Some human beings obtainthrough love the power of transferring their self--their I--to thebeing of another; and when death takes that other, no life of theirown is possible for them. 

Agathe, who now lived only for her children, was infinitely sad at thethought of the privations this financial ruin would bring upon them. From the time of her removal to the rue Mazarin a shade of melancholycame upon her face, which made it very touching. She hoped a little inthe Emperor; but the Emperor at that time could do no more than he wasalready doing; he was giving three hundred francs a year to each childfrom his privy purse, besides the scholarships. 

As for the brilliant Descoings, she occupied an _appartement_ on thesecond floor similar to that of her niece above her. She had madeMadame Bridau an assignment of three thousand francs out of herannuity. Roguin, the notary, attended to this in Madame Bridau'sinterest; but it would take seven years of such slow repayment to makegood the loss. The Descoings, thus reduced to an income of twelvehundred francs, lived with her niece in a small way. These excellentbut timid creatures employed a woman-of-all-work for the morning hoursonly. Madame Descoings, who liked to cook, prepared the dinner. In theevenings a few old friends, persons employed at the ministry who owedtheir places to Bridau, came for a game of cards with the two widows. Madame Descoings still cherished her trey, which she declared wasobstinate about turning up. She expected, by one grand stroke, torepay the enforced loan she had made upon her niece. She was fonder ofthe little Bridaus than she was of her grandson Bixiou, --partly from asense of the wrong she had done them, partly because she felt thekindness of her niece, who, under her worst deprivations, neveruttered a word of reproach. So Philippe and Joseph were cossetted, andthe old gambler in the Imperial Lottery of France (like others whohave a vice or a weakness to atone for) cooked them nice littledinners with plenty of sweets. Later on, Philippe and Joseph couldextract from her pocket, with the utmost facility, small sums ofmoney, which the younger used for pencils, paper, charcoal and prints, the elder to buy tennis-shoes, marbles, twine, and pocket-knives. Madame Descoings's passion forced her to be content with fifty francsa month for her domestic expenses, so as to gamble with the rest. 

On the other hand, Madame Bridau, motherly love, kept her expensesdown to the same sum. By way of penance for her former over-confidence, she heroically cut off her own little enjoyments. As withother timid souls of limited intelligence, one shock to her feelingsrousing her distrust led her to exaggerate a defect in her characteruntil it assumed the consistency of a virtue. The Emperor, she said toherself, might forget them; he might die in battle; her pension, atany rate, ceased with her life. She shuddered at the risk her childrenran of being left alone in the world without means. Quite incapable ofunderstanding Roguin when he explained to her that in seven yearsMadame Descoings's assignment would replace the money she had sold outof the Funds, she persisted in trusting neither the notary nor heraunt, nor even the government; she believed in nothing but herself andthe privations she was practising. By laying aside three thousandfrancs every year from her pension, she would have thirty thousandfrancs at the end of ten years; which would give fifteen hundred ayear to her children. At thirty-six, she might expect to live twentyyears longer; and if she kept to the same system of economy she mightleave 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 promptingsof the purest virtue. None of these petty details are useless inteaching the lesson which ought to be learned from this presenthistory, drawn as it is from the most commonplace interests of life, but whose bearings are, it may be, only the more widespread. The viewfrom the windows into the student dens; the tumult of the rapinsbelow; the necessity of looking up at the sky to escape the miserablesights of the damp angle of the street; the presence of that portrait, full of soul and grandeur despite the workmanship of an amateurpainter; the sight of the rich colors, now old and harmonious, in thatcalm and placid home; the preference of the mother for her eldestchild; her opposition to the tastes of the younger; in short, thewhole body of facts and circumstances which make the preamble of thishistory are perhaps the generating causes to which we owe JosephBridau, one of the greatest painters of the modern French school ofart. 

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 isreadily taken for intrepidity and courage. Old Claparon, who enteredthe ministry of the interior at the same time as Bridau, and was oneof the faithful friends who played whist every night with the twowidows, used to say of Philippe two or three times a month, giving hima tap on the cheek, "Here's a young rascal who'll stand to his guns!"The boy, thus stimulated, naturally and out of bravado, assumed aresolute manner. That turn once given to his character, he became veryadroit at all bodily exercises; his fights at the Lyceum taught himthe endurance and contempt for pain which lays the foundation ofmilitary valor. He also acquired, very naturally, a distaste forstudy; public education being unable to solve the difficult problem ofdeveloping "pari passu" the body and the mind. 

Agathe believed that the purely physical resemblance which Philippebore to her carried with it a moral likeness; and she confidentlyexpected him to show at a future day her own delicacy of feeling, heightened by the vigor of manhood. Philippe was fifteen years oldwhen his mother moved into the melancholy _appartement_ in the rueMazarin; and the winning ways of a lad of that age went far to confirmthe maternal beliefs. Joseph, three years younger, was like hisfather, but only on the defective side. In the first place, his thickblack hair was always in disorder, no matter what pains were takenwith it; while Philippe's, notwithstanding his vivacity, wasinvariably neat. Then, by some mysterious fatality, Joseph could notkeep his clothes clean; dress him in new clothes, and he immediatelymade them look like old ones. The elder, on the other hand, took careof his things out of mere vanity. Unconsciously, the mother acquired ahabit of scolding Joseph and holding up his brother as an example tohim. Agathe did not treat the two children alike; when she went tofetch them from school, the thought in her mind as to Joseph alwayswas, "What sort of state shall I find him in?" These trifles drove herheart into the gulf of maternal preference. 

No one among the very ordinary persons who made the society of the twowidows--neither old Du Bruel nor old Claparon, nor Desroches thefather, nor even the Abbe Loraux, Agathe's confessor--noticed Joseph'sfaculty for observation. Absorbed in the line of his own tastes, thefuture colorist paid no attention to anything that concerned himself. During his childhood this disposition was so like torpor that hisfather grew uneasy about him. The remarkable size of the head and thewidth of the brow roused a fear that the child might be liable towater on the brain. His distressful face, whose originality wasthought ugliness by those who had no eye for the moral value of acountenance, wore rather a sullen expression during his childhood. Thefeatures, which developed later in life, were pinched, and the closeattention the child paid to what went on about him still furthercontracted them. Philippe flattered his mother's vanity, but Josephwon no compliments. Philippe sparkled with the clever sayings andlively answers that lead parents to believe their boys will turn outremarkable men; Joseph was taciturn, and a dreamer. The mother hopedgreat things of Philippe, and expected nothing of Joseph. 

Joseph's predilection for art was developed by a very commonplaceincident. During the Easter holidays of 1812, as he was coming homefrom a walk in the Tuileries with his brother and Madame Descoings, hesaw a pupil drawing a caricature of some professor on the wall of theInstitute, and stopped short with admiration at the charcoal sketch, which was full of satire. The next day the child stood at the windowwatching the pupils as they entered the building by the door on therue Mazarin; then he ran downstairs and slipped furtively into thelong courtyard of the Institute, full of statues, busts, half-finishedmarbles, plasters, and baked clays; at all of which he gazedfeverishly, for his instinct was awakened, and his vocation stirredwithin him. He entered a room on the ground-floor, the door of whichwas half open; and there he saw a dozen young men drawing from astatue, who at once began to make fun of him. 

"Hi! little one, " cried the first to see him, taking the crumbs of hisbread 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 muchteasing in the atelier of the great sculptor, Chaudet. But afterlaughing at him for a time, the pupils were struck with hispersistency and with the expression of his face. They asked him whathe wanted. Joseph answered that he wished to know how to draw;thereupon they all encouraged him. Won by such friendliness, the childtold them he was Madame Bridau's son. 

"Oh! if you are Madame Bridau's son, " they cried, from all parts ofthe room, "you will certainly be a great man. Long live the son ofMadame Bridau! Is your mother pretty? If you are a sample of her, shemust be stylish!"

"Ha! you want to be an artist?" said the eldest pupil, coming up toJoseph, "but don't you know that that requires pluck; you'll have tobear all sorts of trials, --yes, trials, --enough to break your legs andarms and soul and body. All the fellows you see here have gone throughregular ordeals. That one, for instance, he went seven days withouteating! Let me see, now, if you can be an artist. "

He took one of the child's arms and stretched it straight up in theair; then he placed the other arm as if Joseph were in the act ofdelivering a blow with his fist. 

"Now that's what we call the telegraph trial, " said the pupil. "If youcan stand like that, without lowering or changing the position of yourarms for a quarter of an hour, then you'll have proved yourself aplucky one. "

"Courage, little one, courage!" cried all the rest. "You must sufferif you want to be an artist. "

Joseph, with the good faith of his thirteen years, stood motionlessfor five minutes, all the pupils gazing solemnly at him. 

"There! you are moving, " cried one. 

"Steady, steady, confound you!" cried another. 

"The Emperor Napoleon stood a whole month as you see him there, " saida third, pointing to the fine statue by Chaudet, which was in theroom. 

That statue, which represents the Emperor standing with the Imperialsceptre in his hand, was torn down in 1814 from the column itsurmounted so well. 

At the end of ten minutes the sweat stood in drops on Joseph'sforehead. At that moment a bald-headed little man, pale and sickly inappearance, entered the atelier, where respectful silence reigned atonce. 

"What you are about, you urchins?" he exclaimed, as he looked at theyouthful martyr. 

"That is a good little fellow, who is posing, " said the tall pupil whohad placed Joseph. 

"Are you not ashamed to torture a poor child in that way?" saidChaudet, lowering Joseph's arms. "How long have you been standingthere?" he asked the boy, giving him a friendly little pat on thecheek. 

"A quarter of an hour. "

"What brought you here?"

"I want to be an artist. "

"Where do you belong? where do you come from?"

"From mamma's house. "

"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 theEmperor; and if you will teach me to draw, the Emperor will pay allyou ask for it. "

"His father was head of a department at the ministry of the Interior, "exclaimed Chaudet, struck by a recollection. "So you want to be anartist, at your age?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Well, come here just as much as you like; we'll amuse you. Give him aboard, and paper, and chalks, and let him alone. You are to know, youyoung 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 hadtortured Joseph, giving him some small change. "We'll see if you areto be artist by the way you gobble up the dainties, " added thesculptor, chucking Joseph under the chin. 

Then he went round examining the pupils' works, followed by the child, who looked and listened, and tried to understand him. The sweets werebrought, Chaudet, himself, the child, and the whole studio all hadtheir teeth in them; and Joseph was petted quite as much as he hadbeen teased. The whole scene, in which the rough play and real heartof artists were revealed, and which the boy instinctively understood, made a great impression on his mind. The apparition of the sculptor, --for whom the Emperor's protection opened a way to future glory, closed soon after by his premature death, --was like a vision to littleJoseph. The child said nothing to his mother about this adventure, buthe spent two hours every Sunday and every Thursday in Chaudet'satelier. From that time forth, Madame Descoings, who humored thefancies of the two cherubim, kept Joseph supplied with pencils and redchalks, prints and drawing-paper. At school, the future coloristsketched his masters, drew his comrades, charcoaled the dormitories, and showed surprising assiduity in the drawing-class. Lemire, thedrawing-master, struck not only with the lad's inclination but alsowith his actual progress, came to tell Madame Bridau of her son'sfaculty. Agathe, like a true provincial, who knows as little of art asshe knows much of housekeeping, was terrified. When Lemire left her, she burst into tears. 

"Ah!" she cried, when Madame Descoings went to ask what was thematter. "What is to become of me! Joseph, whom I meant to make agovernment clerk, whose career was all marked out for him at theministry of the interior, where, protected by his father's memory, hemight 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 always knew thatchild would give me nothing but trouble. "

Madame Descoings confessed that for several months past she hadencouraged Joseph's passion, aiding and abetting his Sunday andThursday visits to the Institute. At the Salon, to which she had takenhim, the little fellow had shown an interest in the pictures, whichwas, she declared, nothing short of miraculous. 

"If he understands painting at thirteen, my dear, " she said, "yourJoseph will be a man of genius. "

"Yes; and see what genius did for his father, --killed him withoverwork at forty!"

At the close of autumn, just as Joseph was entering his fourteenthyear, Agathe, contrary to Madame Descoings's entreaties, went to seeChaudet, and requested that he would cease to debauch her son. Shefound the sculptor in a blue smock, modelling his last statue; hereceived the widow of the man who formerly had served him at acritical moment, rather roughly; but, already at death's door, he wasstruggling with passionate ardor to do in a few hours work he couldhardly have accomplished in several months. As Madame Bridau entered, he had just found an effect long sought for, and was handling histools and clay with spasmodic jerks and movements that seemed to theignorant Agathe like those of a maniac. At any other time Chaudetwould have laughed; but now, as he heard the mother bewailing thedestiny he had opened to her child, abusing art, and insisting thatJoseph should no longer be allowed to enter the atelier, he burst intoa holy wrath. 

"I was under obligations to your deceased husband, I wished to helphis son, to watch his first steps in the noblest of all careers, " hecried. "Yes, madame, learn, if you do not know it, that a great artistis a king, and more than a king; he is happier, he is independent, helives as he likes, he reigns in the world of fancy. Your son has aglorious future before him. Faculties like his are rare; they are onlydisclosed at his age in such beings as the Giottos, Raphaels, Titians, Rubens, Murillos, --for, in my opinion, he will make a better painterthan sculptor. God of heaven! if I had such a son, I should be ashappy 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; makehim a fool, a miserable quill-driver, tie him to a desk, and you'vemurdered him! But I hope, in spite if all your efforts, that he willstay an artist. A true vocation is stronger than all the obstaclesthat can be opposed to it. Vocation! why the very word means a call;ay, the election of God himself! You will make your child unhappy, that's all. " He flung the clay he no longer needed violently into atub, and said to his model, "That will do for to-day. "

Agathe raised her eyes and saw, in a corner of the atelier where herglance had not before penetrated, a nude woman sitting on a stool, thesight of whom drove her away horrified. 

"You are not to have the little Bridau here any more, " said Chaudet tohis 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 thatMadame Bridau did not wish her son to be an artist, than their wholehappiness centred on getting Joseph among them. In spite of a promisenot to go to the Institute which his mother exacted from him, thechild often slipped into Regnauld the painter's studio, where he wasencouraged to daub canvas. When the widow complained that the bargainwas not kept, Chaudet's pupils assured her that Regnauld was notChaudet, and they hadn't the bringing up of her son, with otherimpertinences; and the atrocious young scamps composed a song with ahundred and thirty-seven couplets on Madame Bridau. 

On the evening of that sad day Agathe refused to play at cards, andsat on her sofa plunged in such grief that the tears stood in herhandsome eyes. 

"What is the matter, Madame Bridau?" asked old Claparon. 

"She thinks her boy will have to beg his bread because he has got thebump of painting, " said Madame Descoings; "but, for my part, I am notthe least uneasy about the future of my step-son, little Bixiou, whohas a passion for drawing. Men are born to get on. "

"You are right, " said the hard and severe Desroches, who, in spite ofhis talents, had never himself got on in the position of assistant-headof a department. "Happily I have only one son; otherwise, with myeighteen hundred francs a year, and a wife who makes barely twelvehundred out of her stamped-paper office, I don't know what wouldbecome of me. I have just placed my boy as under-clerk to a lawyer; hegets twenty-five francs a month and his breakfast. I give him as muchmore, and he dines and sleeps at home. That's all he gets; he mustmanage for himself, but he'll make his way. I keep the fellow harderat work than if he were at school, and some day he will be abarrister. When I give him money to go to the theatre, he is as happyas a king and kisses me. Oh, I keep a tight hand on him, and herenders me an account of all he spends. You are too good to yourchildren, Madame Bridau; if your son wants to go through hardships andprivations, let him; they'll make a man of him. "

"As for my boy, " said Du Bruel, a former chief of a division, who hadjust retired on a pension, "he is only sixteen; his mother dotes onhim; but I shouldn't listen to his choosing a profession at his age, --a mere fancy, a notion that may pass off. In my opinion, boys shouldbe guided and controlled. "

"Ah, monsieur! you are rich, you are a man, and you have but one son, "said Agathe. 

"Faith!" said Claparon, "children do tyrannize over us--over ourhearts, I mean. Mine makes me furious; he has nearly ruined me, andnow I won't have anything to do with him--it's a sort of independence. Well, he is the happier for it, and so am I. That fellow was partlythe cause of his mother's death. He chose to be a commercialtraveller; and the trade just suited him, for he was no sooner in thehouse than he wanted to be out of it; he couldn't keep in one place, and he wouldn't learn anything. All I ask of God is that I may diebefore he dishonors my name. Those who have no children lose manypleasures, but they escape great sufferings. "

"And these men are fathers!" thought Agathe, weeping anew. 

"What I am trying to show you, my dear Madame Bridau, is that you hadbetter let your boy be a painter; if not, you will only waste yourtime. "

"If you were able to coerce him, " said the sour Desroches, "I shouldadvise you to oppose his tastes; but weak as I see you are, you hadbetter let him daub if he likes. "

"Console yourself, Agathe, " said Madame Descoings, "Joseph will turnout a great man. "

After this discussion, which was like all discussions, the widow'sfriends united in giving her one and the same advice; which advice didnot in the least relieve her anxieties. They advised her to let Josephfollow his bent. 

"If he doesn't turn out a genius, " said Du Bruel, who always tried toplease Agathe, "you can then get him into some government office. "

When Madame Descoings accompanied the old clerks to the door sheassured them, at the head of the stairs, that they were "Greciansages. "

"Madame Bridau ought to be glad her son is willing to do anything, "said Claparon. 

"Besides, " said Desroches, "if God preserves the Emperor, Joseph willalways be looked after. Why should she worry?"

"She is timid about everything that concerns her children, " answeredMadame 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 whatgoes on in that atelier; they have naked women!"

"I hope they keep good fires, " said Madame Descoings. 

A few days after this, the disasters of the retreat from Moscow becameknown. Napoleon returned to Paris to organize fresh troops, and to askfurther sacrifices from the country. The poor mother was then plungedinto 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 ideaof a soldier's life. In those days military splendor, the show ofuniforms, the authority of epaulets, offered irresistible seductionsto a certain style of youth. Philippe thought he had the same vocationfor the army that his brother Joseph showed for art. Without hismother's knowledge, he wrote a petition to the Emperor, which read asfollows:--

 Sire, --I am the son of your Bridau; eighteen years of age, five feet six inches; I have good legs, a good constitution, and wish to be one of your soldiers. I ask you to let me enter the army, etc. 

Within twenty-four hours, the Emperor had sent Philippe to theImperial Lyceum at Saint-Cyr, and six months later, in November, 1813, he appointed him sub-lieutenant in a regiment of cavalry. Philippespent the greater part of that winter in cantonments, but as soon ashe knew how to ride a horse he was dispatched to the front, and wenteagerly. During the campaign in France he was made a lieutenant, afteran affair at the outposts where his bravery had saved his colonel'slife. The Emperor named him captain at the battle of LaFere-Champenoise, and took him on his staff. Inspired by suchpromotion, Philippe won the cross at Montereau. He witnessed Napoleon'sfarewell at Fontainebleau, raved at the sight, and refused to serve theBourbons. When he returned to his mother, in July, 1814, he found herruined. 

Joseph's scholarship was withdrawn after the holidays, and MadameBridau, whose pension came from the Emperor's privy purse, vainlyentreated that it might be inscribed on the rolls of the ministry ofthe interior. Joseph, more of a painter than ever, was delighted withthe turn of events, and entreated his mother to let him go to MonsieurRegnauld, promising to earn his own living. He declared he was quitesufficiently advanced in the second class to get on without rhetoric. Philippe, a captain at nineteen and decorated, who had, moreover, served the Emperor as an aide-de-camp in two battles, flattered themother's vanity immensely. Coarse, blustering, and without real meritbeyond the vulgar bravery of a cavalry officer, he was to her mind aman of genius; whereas Joseph, puny and sickly, with unkempt hair andabsent mind, seeking peace, loving quiet, and dreaming of an artist'sglory, would only bring her, she thought, worries and anxieties. 

The winter of 1814-1815 was a lucky one for Joseph. Secretlyencouraged by Madame Descoings and Bixiou, a pupil of Gros, he went towork in the celebrated atelier of that painter, whence a vast varietyof talent issued in its day, and there he formed the closest intimacywith Schinner. The return from Elba came; Captain Bridau joined theEmperor at Lyons, accompanied him to the Tuileries, and was appointedto the command of a squadron in the dragoons of the Guard. After thebattle of Waterloo--in which he was slightly wounded, and where he wonthe cross of an officer of the Legion of honor--he happened to be nearMarshal Davoust at Saint-Denis, and was not with the army of theLoire. In consequence of this, and through Davoust's intercession, hiscross and his rank were secured to him, but he was placed on half-pay. 

Joseph, anxious about his future, studied all through this period withan ardor which several times made him ill in the midst of thesetumultuous events. 

"It is the smell of the paints, " Agathe said to Madame Descoings. "Heought to give up a business so injurious to his health. "

However, all Agathe's anxieties were at this time for her son thelieutenant-colonel. When she saw him again in 1816, reduced from thesalary of nine thousand francs (paid to a commander in the dragoons ofthe Imperial Guard) to a half-pay of three hundred francs a month, shefitted up her attic rooms for him, and spent her savings in doing so. Philippe was one of the faithful Bonapartes of the cafe Lemblin, thatconstitutional Boeotia; he acquired the habits, manners, style, andlife of a half-pay officer; indeed, like any other young man oftwenty-one, he exaggerated them, vowed in good earnest a mortal enmityto the Bourbons, never reported himself at the War department, andeven refused opportunities which were offered to him for employment inthe infantry with his rank of lieutenant-colonel. In his mother'seyes, 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 allJoseph's expenses were paid by the two widows. From that moment, Agathe's preference for Philippe was openly shown. Up to that time ithad been secret; but the persecution of this faithful servant of theEmperor, the recollection of the wound received by her cherished son, his courage in adversity, which, voluntary though it were, seemed toher a glorious adversity, drew forth all Agathe's tenderness. The onesentence, "He is unfortunate, " explained and justified everything. Joseph himself, --with the innate simplicity which superabounds in theartist-soul in its opening years, and who was, moreover, brought up toadmire his big brother, --so far from being hurt by the preference oftheir mother, encouraged it by sharing her worship of the hero who hadcarried Napoleon's orders on two battlefields, and was wounded atWaterloo. How could he doubt the superiority of the grand brother, whom he had beheld in the green and gold uniform of the dragoons ofthe Guard, commanding his squadron on the Champ de Mars?

Agathe, notwithstanding this preference, was an excellent mother. Sheloved Joseph, though not blindly; she simply was unable to understandhim. Joseph adored his mother; Philippe let his mother adore him. Towards her, the dragoon softened his military brutality; but he neverconcealed the contempt he felt for Joseph, --expressing it, however, ina friendly way. When he looked at his brother, weak and sickly as hewas at seventeen years of age, shrunken with determined toil, andover-weighted with his powerful head, he nicknamed him "Cub. "Philippe's patronizing manners would have wounded any one lesscarelessly indifferent than the artist, who had, moreover, a firmbelief in the goodness of heart which soldiers hid, he thought, beneath a brutal exterior. Joseph did not yet know, poor boy, thatsoldiers of genius are as gentle and courteous in manner as othersuperior men in any walk of life. All genius is alike, wherever found. 

"Poor boy!" said Philippe to his mother, "we mustn't plague him; lethim do as he likes. "

To his mother's eyes the colonel's contempt was a mark of fraternalaffection. 

"Philippe will always love and protect his brother, " she thought toherself. 

 CHAPTER III

In 1816, Joseph obtained his mother's permission to convert the garretwhich adjoined his attic room into an atelier, and Madame Descoingsgave him a little money for the indispensable requirements of thepainter's trade;--in the minds of the two widows, the art of paintingwas nothing but a trade. With the feeling and ardor of his vocation, the lad himself arranged his humble atelier. Madame Descoingspersuaded the owner of the house to put a skylight in the roof. Thegarret was turned into a vast hall painted in chocolate-color byJoseph himself. On the walls he hung a few sketches. Agathecontributed, not without reluctance, an iron stove; so that her sonmight be able to work at home, without, however, abandoning the studioof Gros, nor that of Schinner. 

The constitutional party, supported chiefly by officers on half-payand the Bonapartists, were at this time inciting "emeutes" around theChamber of Deputies, on behalf of the Charter, though no one actuallywanted it. Several conspiracies were brewing. Philippe, who dabbled inthem, was arrested, and then released for want of proof; but theminister of war cut short his half-pay by putting him on the activelist, --a step which might be called a form of discipline. France wasno longer safe; Philippe was liable to fall into some trap laid forhim by spies, --provocative agents, as they were called, being muchtalked of in those days. 

While Philippe played billiards in disaffected cafes, losing his timeand acquiring the habit of wetting his whistle with "little glasses"of all sorts of liquors. Agathe lived in mortal terror for the safetyof the great man of the family. The Grecian sages were too muchaccustomed to wend their nightly way up Madame Bridau's staircase, finding the two widows ready and waiting, and hearing from them allthe news of their day, ever to break up the habit of coming to thegreen salon for their game of cards. The ministry of the interior, though purged of its former _employes_ in 1816, had retained Claparon, one of those cautious men, who whisper the news of the "Moniteur, "adding invariably, "Don't quote me. " Desroches, who had retired fromactive service some time after old Du Bruel, was still battling forhis pension. The three friends, who were witnesses of Agathe'sdistress, advised her to send the colonel to travel in foreigncountries. 

"They talk about conspiracies, and your son, with his disposition, will be certain to fall a victim in some of them; there is plenty oftreachery in these days. "

"Philippe is cut from the wood the Emperor made into marshals, " saidDu Bruel, in a low voice, looking cautiously about him; "and hemustn't give up his profession. 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 ofa bureau in an insurance company, as soon as I have got my pension. "

"Philippe is a soldier; he would not like to be any thing else, " saidthe warlike Agathe. 

"Then he ought to have the sense to ask for employment--"

"And serve _these others_!" cried the widow. "Oh! I will never givehim that advice. "

"You are wrong, " said Du Bruel. "My son has just got an appointmentthrough the Duc de Navarreins. The Bourbons are very good to those whoare sincere in rallying to them. Your son could be appointedlieutenant-colonel to a regiment. "

"They only appoint nobles in the cavalry. Philippe would never rise tobe a colonel, " said Madame Descoings. 

Agathe, much alarmed, entreated Philippe to travel abroad, and puthimself at the service of some foreign power who, she thought, wouldgladly 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 letthem be heroic elsewhere. Napoleon may return once more. "

However, to satisfy his mother, Philippe took up the dazzling idea ofjoining General Lallemand in the United States, and helping him tofound what was called the Champ d'Asile, one of the most disastrousswindles that ever appeared under the name of national subscription. Agathe gave ten thousand francs to start her son, and she went toHavre to see him off. By the end of 1817, she had accustomed herselfto live on the six hundred francs a year which remained to her fromher property in the Funds; then, by a lucky chance, she made a goodinvestment of the ten thousand francs she still kept of her savings, from which she obtained an interest of seven per cent. Joseph wishedto emulate his mother's devotion. He dressed like a bailiff; wore thecommonest shoes and blue stockings; denied himself gloves, and burnedcharcoal; he lived on bread and milk and Brie cheese. The poor lad gotno sympathy, except from Madame Descoings, and from Bixiou, hisstudent-friend and comrade, who was then making those admirablecaricatures of his, and filling a small office in the ministry. 

"With what joy I welcomed the summer of 1818!" said Joseph Bridau inafter-years, relating his troubles; "the sun saved me the cost ofcharcoal. "

As good a colorist by this time as Gros himself, Joseph now went tohis master for consultation only. He was already meditating a tiltagainst classical traditions, and Grecian conventionalities, in short, against the leading-strings which held down an art to which Nature _asshe is_ belongs, in the omnipotence of her creations and her imagery. Joseph made ready for a struggle which, from the day when he firstexhibited in the Salon, has never ceased. It was a terrible year. Roguin, the notary of Madame Descoings and Madame Bridau, abscondedwith the moneys held back for seven years from Madame Descoings'sannuity, which by that time were producing two thousand francs a year. Three days after this disaster, a bill of exchange for a thousandfrancs, drawn by Philippe upon his mother, arrived from New York. Thepoor fellow, misled like so many others, had lost his all in the Champd'Asile. A letter, which accompanied the bill, drove Agathe, Joseph, and the Descoings to tears, and told of debts contracted in New York, where his comrades in misfortunes had indorsed for him. 

"It was I who made him go!" cried the poor mother, eager to divert theblame from Philippe. 

"I advise you not to send him on many such journeys, " said the oldDescoings to her niece. 

Madame Descoings was heroic. She continued to give the three thousandfrancs a year to Madame Bridau, but she still paid the dues on hertrey which had never turned up since the year 1799. About this time, she began to doubt the honesty of the government, and declared it wascapable of keeping the three numbers in the urn, so as to excite theshareholders to put in enormous stakes. After a rapid survey of alltheir resources, it seemed to the two women impossible to raise thethousand francs without selling out the little that remained in theFunds. They talked of pawning their silver and part of the linen, andeven the needless pieces of furniture. Joseph, alarmed at thesesuggestions, went to see Gerard and told him their circumstances. Thegreat painter obtained an order from the household of the king for twocopies of a portrait of Louis XVIII. , at five hundred francs each. Though not naturally generous, Gros took his pupil to anartist-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 days, sold them to the dealersand brought his mother the thousand francs with which to meet the billof exchange when it fell due. Eight days later, came a letter from thecolonel, informing his mother that he was about to return to France onboard a packet from New York, whose captain had trusted him for thepassage-money. Philippe announced that he should need at least athousand francs on his arrival at Havre. 

"Good, " said Joseph to his mother, "I shall have finished my copies bythat time, and you can carry him the money. "

"Dear Joseph!" cried Agathe in tears, kissing her son, "God will blessyou. You do love him, then, poor persecuted fellow? He is indeed ourglory 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 permission to be a great artist. 

Madame Bridau rushed to meet her beloved son, Colonel Philippe, atHavre. Once there, she walked every day beyond the round tower builtby Francois I. , to look out for the American packet, enduring thekeenest anxieties. Mothers alone know how such sufferings quickenmaternal love. The vessel arrived on a fine morning in October, 1819, without delay, and having met with no mishap. The sight of a motherand the air of one's native land produces a certain affect on thecoarsest nature, especially after the miseries of a sea-voyage. Philippe gave way to a rush of feeling, which made Agathe think toherself, "Ah! how he loves me!" Alas, the hero loved but one person inthe world, and that person was Colonel Philippe. His misfortunes inTexas, his stay in New York, --a place where speculation andindividualism are carried to the highest pitch, where the brutality ofself-interest attains to cynicism, where man, essentially isolated, iscompelled to push his way for himself and by himself, where politenessdoes not exist, --in fact, even the minor events of Philippe's journeyhad developed in him the worst traits of an old campaigner: he hadgrown brutal, selfish, rude; he drank and smoked to excess; physicalhardships and poverty had depraved him. Moreover, he consideredhimself persecuted; and the effect of that idea is to make persons whoare unintelligent persecutors and bigots themselves. To Philippe'sconception of life, the universe began at his head and ended at hisfeet, and the sun shone for him alone. The things he had seen in NewYork, interpreted by his practical nature, carried away his lastscruples on the score of morality. For such beings, there are but twoways of existence. Either they believe, or they do not believe; theyhave the virtues of honest men, or they give themselves up to thedemands of necessity; in which case they proceed to turn theirslightest interests and each passing impulse of their passions intonecessities. 

Such a system of life carries a man a long way. It was only inappearance that Colonel Philippe retained the frankness, plain-dealing, and easy-going freedom of a soldier. This made him, in reality, very dangerous; he seemed as guileless as a child, but, thinking only of himself, he never did anything without reflectingwhat he had better do, --like a wily lawyer planning some trick "a laMaitre Gonin"; words cost him nothing, and he said as many as he couldto get people to believe. If, unfortunately, some one refused toaccept the explanations with which he justified the contradictionsbetween his conduct and his professions, the colonel, who was a goodshot and could defy the most adroit fencing-master, and possessed thecoolness of one to whom life is indifferent, was quite ready to demandsatisfaction for the first sharp word; and when a man shows himselfprepared for violence there is little more to be said. His imposingstature had taken on a certain rotundity, his face was bronzed fromexposure in Texas, he was still succinct in speech, and had acquiredthe decisive tone of a man obliged to make himself feared among thepopulations of a new world. Thus developed, plainly dressed, his bodytrained to endurance by his recent hardships, Philippe in the eyes ofhis mother was a hero; in point of fact, he had simply become whatpeople (not to mince matters) call a blackguard. 

Shocked at the destitution of her cherished son, Madame Bridau boughthim a complete outfit of clothes at Havre. After listening to the taleof his woes, she had not the heart to stop his drinking and eating andamusing himself as a man just returned from the Champ d'Asile waslikely to eat and drink and divert himself. It was certainly a fineconception, --that of conquering Texas with the remains of the imperialarmy. The failure was less in the idea than in the men who conceivedit; for Texas is to-day a republic, with a future full of promise. This scheme of Liberalism under the Restoration distinctly proves thatthe interests of the party were purely 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 thehypocritical party at home who dispensed enormous sums, but gavenothing when it came to recovering empire. Household managers likeAgathe have a plain common-sense which enables them to perceive suchpolitical chicane: the poor woman saw the truth through the lines ofher son's tale; for she had read, in the exile's interests, all thepompous editorials of the constitutional journals, and watched themanagement of the famous subscription, which produced barely onehundred and fifty thousand francs when it ought to have yielded fiveor six millions. The Liberal leaders soon found out that they wereplaying into the hands of Louis XVIII. By exporting the gloriousremnants of our grand army, and they promptly abandoned to their fatethe most devoted, the most ardent, the most enthusiastic of itsheroes, --those, in short, who had gone in the advance. Agathe wasnever able, however, to make her son see that he was more duped thanpersecuted. With blind belief in her idol, she supposed herselfignorant, and deplored, as Philippe did, the evil times which had donehim such wrong. Up to this time he was, to her mind, throughout hismisfortunes, less faulty than victimized by his noble nature, hisenergy, the fall of the Emperor, the duplicity of the Liberals, andthe rancor of the Bourbons against the Bonapartists. During the weekat Havre, a week which was horribly costly, she dared not ask him tomake 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 veryexpensive, and to bring him back to Paris before her money gave out. Madame Descoings and Joseph, who were awaiting their arrival in thecourtyard of the coach-office of the Messageries Royales, were struckwith the change in Agathe's face. 

"Your mother has aged ten years in two months, " whispered theDescoings to Joseph, as they all embraced, and the two trunks werebeing handed down. 

"How do you do, mere Descoings?" was the cool greeting the colonelbestowed on the old woman whom Joseph was in the habit of calling"maman Descoings. "

"I have no money to pay for a hackney-coach, " said Agathe, in a sadvoice. 

"I have, " replied the young painter. "What a splendid color Philippehas turned!" he cried, looking at his brother. 

"Yes, I've browned like a pipe, " said Philippe. "But as for you, you're not a bit changed, little man. "

Joseph, who was now twenty-one, and much thought of by the friends whohad stood by him in his days of trial, felt his own strength and wasaware of his talent; he represented the art of painting in a circle ofyoung men whose lives were devoted to science, letters, politics, andphilosophy. Consequently, he was wounded by his brother's contempt, which Philippe still further emphasized with a gesture, pulling hisears as if he were still a child. Agathe noticed the coolness whichsucceeded the first glow of tenderness on the part of Joseph andMadame Descoings; but she hastened to tell them of Philippe'ssufferings in exile, and so lessened it. Madame Descoings, wishing tomake a festival of the return of the prodigal, as she called him underher breath, had prepared one of her good dinners, to which oldClaparon and the elder Desroches were invited. All the family friendswere to come, and did come, in the evening. Joseph had invited LeonGiraud, d'Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, and HoraceBianchon, his friends of the fraternity. Madame Descoings had promisedBixiou, her so-called step-son, that the young people should play atecarte. Desroches the younger, who had now taken, under his father'sstern rule, his degree at law, was also of the party. Du Bruel, Claparon, Desroches, and the Abbe Loraux carefully observed thereturned exile, whose manners and coarse features, and voice roughenedby the abuse of liquors, together with his vulgar glance andphraseology, alarmed them not a little. While Joseph was placing thecard-tables, the more intimate of the family friends surrounded Agatheand asked, --

"What do you intend to make of Philippe?"

"I don't know, " she answered, "but he is determined not to serve theBourbons. "

"Then it will be very difficult for you to find him a place in France. If he won't re-enter the army, he can't be readily got into governmentemploy, " said old Du Bruel. "And you have only to listen to him to seehe could never, like my son, make his fortune by writing plays. "

The motion of Agathe's eyes, with which alone she replied to thisspeech, showed how anxious Philippe's future made her; they all keptsilence. The exile himself, Bixiou, and the younger Desroches wereplaying at ecarte, a game which was then the rage. 

"Maman Descoings, my brother has no money to play with, " whisperedJoseph in the good woman's ear. 

The devotee of the Royal Lottery fetched twenty francs and gave themto the artist, who slipped them secretly into his brother's hand. Allthe company were now assembled. There were two tables of boston; andthe party grew lively. Philippe proved a bad player: after winning forawhile, he began to lose; and by eleven o'clock he owed fifty francsto young Desroches and to Bixiou. The racket and the disputes at theecarte table resounded more than once in the ears of the more peacefulboston players, who were watching Philippe surreptitiously. The exileshowed such signs of bad temper that in his final dispute with theyounger Desroches, who was none too amiable himself, the elderDesroches joined in, and though his son was decidedly in the right, hedeclared he was in the wrong, and forbade him to play any more. MadameDescoings did the same with her grandson, who was beginning to let flycertain witticisms; and although Philippe, so far, had not understoodhim, there was always a chance that one of the barbed arrows mightpiece the colonel's thick skull and put the sharp jester in peril. 

"You must be tired, " whispered Agathe in Philippe's ear; "come tobed. "

"Travel educates youth, " said Bixiou, grinning, when Madame Bridau andthe colonel had disappeared. 

Joseph, who got up at dawn and went to bed early, did not see the endof the party. The next morning Agathe and Madame Descoings, whilepreparing breakfast, could not help remarking that soires would beterribly expensive if Philippe were to go on playing that sort ofgame, as the Descoings phrased it. The worthy old woman, thenseventy-six years of age, proposed to sell her furniture, give up her_appartement_ on the second floor (which the owner was only too glad tooccupy), and take Agathe's parlor for her chamber, making the otherroom a sitting-room and dining-room for the family. In this way theycould save seven hundred francs a year; which would enable them togive Philippe fifty francs a month until he could find something todo. Agathe accepted the sacrifice. When the colonel came down and hismother had asked how he liked his little bedroom, the two widowsexplained to him the situation of the family. Madame Descoings andAgathe possessed, by putting all their resources together, an incomeof five thousand three hundred francs, four thousand of which belongedto Madame Descoings and were merely a life annuity. The Descoings madean allowance of six hundred a year to Bixiou, whom she hadacknowledged as her grandson during the last few months, also sixhundred to Joseph; the rest of her income, together with that ofAgathe, was spent for the household wants. All their savings were bythis time eaten up. 

"Make yourselves easy, " said the lieutenant-colonel. "I'll find asituation and put you to no expense; all I need for the present isboard and lodging. "

Agathe kissed her son, and Madame Descoings slipped a hundred francsinto his hand to pay for his losses of the night before. In ten daysthe furniture was sold, the _appartement_ given up, and the change inAgathe's domestic arrangements accomplished with a celerity seldomseen outside of Paris. During those ten days, Philippe regularlydecamped after breakfast, came back for dinner, was off again for theevening, and only got home about midnight to go to bed. He contractedcertain habits half mechanically, and they soon became rooted in him;he got his boots blacked on the Pont Neuf for the two sous it wouldhave cost him to go by the Pont des Arts to the Palais-Royal, where heconsumed regularly two glasses of brandy while reading the newspapers, --an occupation which employed him till midday; after that hesauntered along the rue Vivienne to the cafe Minerve, where theLiberals congregated, and where he played at billiards with a numberof old comrades. While winning and losing, Philippe swallowed four orfive more glasses of divers liquors, and smoked ten or a dozen cigarsin going and coming, and idling along the streets. In the evening, after consuming a few pipes at the Hollandais smoking-rooms, he wouldgo to some gambling-place towards ten o'clock at night. The waiterhanded him a card and a pin; he always inquired of certainwell-seasoned players about the chances of the red or the black, andstaked ten francs when the lucky moment seemed to come; never playingmore 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 thattime he talked of smashing the ultras and the Bourbon body-guard, andtrolled out, as he mounted the staircase, "We watch to save theEmpire!" His poor mother, hearing him, used to think "How gay Philippeis to-night!" and then she would creep up and kiss him, withoutcomplaining of the fetid odors of the punch, and the brandy, and thepipes. 

"You ought to be satisfied with me, my dear mother, " he said, towardsthe end of January; "I lead the most regular of lives. "

The colonel had dined five times at a restaurant with some of his armycomrades. These old soldiers were quite frank with each other on thestate of their own affairs, all the while talking of certain hopeswhich they based on the building of a submarine vessel, expected tobring about the deliverance of the Emperor. Among these formercomrades, Philippe particularly liked an old captain of the dragoonsof the Guard, named Giroudeau, in whose company he had seen his firstservice. This friendship with the late dragoon led Philippe intocompleting what Rabelais called "the devil's equipage"; and he addedto his drams, and his tobacco, and his play, a "fourth wheel. "

One evening at the beginning of February, Giroudeau took Philippeafter dinner to the Gaite, occupying a free box sent to a theatricaljournal belonging to his nephew Finot, in whose office Giroudeau wascashier and secretary. Both were dressed after the fashion of theBonapartist officers who now belonged to the ConstitutionalOpposition; they wore ample overcoats with square collars, buttoned tothe chin and coming down to their heels, and decorated with therosette of the Legion of honor; and they carried malacca canes withloaded knobs, which they held by strings of braided leather. The latetroopers had just (to use one of their own expressions) "made a boutof it, " and were mutually unbosoming their hearts as they entered thebox. Through the fumes of a certain number of bottles and variousglasses of various liquors, Giroudeau pointed out to Philippe a plumpand agile little ballet-girl whom he called Florentine, whose goodgraces and affection, together with the box, belonged to him as therepresentative of an all-powerful journal. 

"But, " said Philippe, "I should like to know how far her good gracesgo for such an iron-gray old trooper as you. "

"Thank God, " replied Giroudeau, "I've stuck to the traditions of ourglorious uniform. I have never wasted a farthing upon a woman in mylife. "

"What's that?" said Philippe, putting a finger on his left eye. 

"That is so, " answered Giroudeau. "But, between ourselves, thenewspaper counts for a good deal. To-morrow, in a couple of lines, weshall advise the managers to let Mademoiselle Florentine dance aparticular step, and so forth. Faith, my dear boy, I'm uncommonlylucky!"

"Well!" thought Philippe; "if this worthy Giroudeau, with a skull aspolished as my knee, forty-eight years, a big stomach, a face like aploughman, and a nose like a potato, can get a ballet-girl, I ought tobe the lover of the first actress in Paris. Where does one find suchluck?" he said aloud. 

"I'll show you Florentine's place to-night. My Dulcinea only earnsfifty francs a month at the theatre, " added Giroudeau, "but she isvery prettily set up, thanks to an old silk dealer named Cardot, whogives 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 MademoiselleFlorentine's _appartement_, which was close to the theatre, in the ruede Crussol. 

"We must behave ourselves, " said Giroudeau. "Florentine's mother ishere. You see, I haven't the means to pay for one, so the worthy womanis really her own mother. She used to be a concierge, but she's notwithout intelligence. Call her Madame; she makes a point of it. "

Florentine happened that night to have a friend with her, --a certainMarie Godeschal, beautiful as an angel, cold as a danseuse, and apupil of Vestris, who foretold for her a great choregraphic destiny. Mademoiselle Godeschal, anxious to make her first appearance at thePanorama-Dramatique under the name of Mariette, based her hopes on theprotection and influence of a first gentleman of the bedchamber, towhom Vestris had promised to introduce her. Vestris, still greenhimself at this period, did not think his pupil sufficiently trainedto risk the introduction. The ambitious girl did, in the end, make herpseudonym of Mariette famous; and the motive of her ambition, it mustbe said, was praiseworthy. She had a brother, a clerk in Derville'slaw office. Left orphans and very poor, and devoted to each other, thebrother and sister had seen life such as it is in Paris. The onewished to be a lawyer that he might support his sister, and he livedon ten sous a day; the other had coldly resolved to be a dancer, andto profit by her beauty as much as by her legs that she might buy apractice for her brother. Outside of their feeling for each other, andof their mutual life and interests, everything was to them, as it oncewas to the Romans and the Hebrews, barbaric, outlandish, and hostile. This generous affection, which nothing ever lessened, explainedMariette to those who knew her intimately. 

The brother and sister were living at this time on the eighth floor ofa house in the Vieille rue du Temple. Mariette had begun her studieswhen she was ten years old; she was now just sixteen. Alas! for wantof becoming clothes, her beauty, hidden under a coarse shawl, dressedin calico, and ill-kept, could only be guessed by those Parisians whodevote themselves to hunting grisettes and the quest of beauty inmisfortune, as she trotted past them with mincing step, mounted oniron pattens. Philippe fell in love with Mariette. To Mariette, Philippe was commander of the dragoons of the Guard, a staff-officerof the Emperor, a young man of twenty-seven, and above all, the meansof proving herself superior to Florentine by the evident superiorityof Philippe over Giroudeau. Florentine and Giroudeau, the one topromote his comrade's happiness, the other to get a protector for herfriend, pushed Philippe and Mariette into a "mariage en detrempe, "--aParisian term which is equivalent to "morganatic marriage, " as appliedto royal personages. Philippe when they left the house revealed hispoverty to Giroudeau, but the old roue reassured him. 

"I'll speak to my nephew Finot, " he said. "You see, Philippe, thereign of phrases and quill-drivers is upon us; we may as well submit. To-day, scribblers are paramount. Ink has ousted gunpowder, and talktakes the place of shot. After all, these little toads of editors arepretty good fellows, and very clever. Come and see me to-morrow at thenewspaper office; by that time I shall have said a word for you to mynephew. Before long you'll have a place on some journal or other. Mariette, who is taking you at this moment (don't deceive yourself)because she literally has nothing, no engagement, no chance ofappearing on the stage, and I have told her that you are going on anewspaper like myself, --Mariette will try to make you believe she isloving you for yourself; and you will believe her! Do as I do, --keepher as long as you can. I was so much in love with Florentine that Ibegged Finot to write her up and help her to a debut; but my nephewreplied, 'You say she has talent; well, the day after her firstappearance she will turn her back on you. ' Oh, that's Finot all over!You'll 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 ina 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. Thisestablishment bore the magic words, SUBSCRIPTION OFFICE, painted onthe door in black letters, and the word "Cashier, " written by hand andfastened to the grating of the cage. Along the wall that lay oppositeto the cage, was a bench, where, at this moment, a one-armed man wasbreakfasting, who was called Coloquinte by Giroudeau, doubtless fromthe Egyptian colors of his skin. 

"A pretty hole!" exclaimed Philippe, looking round the room. "In thename of thunder! what are you doing here, you who charged with poorColonel Chabert at Eylau? You--a gallant officer!"

"Well, yes! broum! broum!--a gallant officer keeping the accounts of alittle 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 theone-armed man. 

"Hold your tongue, Coloquinte, " said Giroudeau. "You are in presenceof a hero who carried the Emperor's orders at the battle ofMontereau. "

Coloquinte saluted. "That's were 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 roomat the end of a passage, they 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, "thisis the gallant cavalry officer of the Imperial Guard of whom I spoketo you. "

"Eh! well?" said Finot, eyeing Philippe, who, like Giroudeau, lost allhis assurance before the diplomatist of the press. 

"My dear boy, " said Giroudeau, trying to pose as an uncle, "thecolonel has just returned from Texas. "

"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 whoremember the deluge of engravings, screens, clocks, bronzes, andplaster-casts produced by the idea of the Soldier-laborer, a splendidimage of Napoleon and his heroes, which afterwards made its appearanceon the stage in vaudevilles. That idea, however, obtained a nationalsubscription; and we still find, in the depths of the provinces, oldwall-papers which bear the effigy of the Soldier-laborer. If thisyoung man had not been Giroudeau's nephew, Philippe would have boxedhis ears. 

"Yes, I was taken in by it; I lost my time, and twelve thousand francsto boot, " answered Philippe, trying to force a grin. 

"You are still fond of the Emperor?" asked Finot. 

"He is my god, " answered Philippe Bridau. 

"You are a Liberal?"

"I shall always belong to the Constitutional Opposition. Oh Foy! ohManuel! oh Laffitte! what men they are! They'll rid us of theseothers, --these wretches, who came back to France at the heels of theenemy. "

"Well, " said Finot coldly, "you ought to make something out of yourmisfortunes; for you are the victim of the Liberals, my good fellow. Stay a Liberal, if you really value your opinions, but threaten theparty with the follies in Texas which you are ready to show up. Younever got a farthing of the national subscription, did you? Well, thenyou hold a fine position: demand an account of that subscription. I'lltell 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 thecashier, with a salary of three thousand francs. A permanent place. All you want is some one to go security for you in twenty thousandfrancs; find that, and you shall be installed within a week. I'lladvise the Liberals to silence you by giving you the place. Meantime, talk, threaten, --threaten loudly. "

Giroudeau let Philippe, who was profuse in his thanks, go down a fewsteps 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 somethingbetter for you. "

"Thunder!" cried Philippe to Giroudeau. "He's no fool, that nephew ofyours. I never once thought of making something, as he calls it, outof my position. "

That night at the cafe Lemblin and the cafe Minerve Colonel Philippefulminated against the Liberal party, which had raised subscriptions, sent heroes to Texas, talked hypocritically of Soldier-laborers, andleft them to starve, after taking the money they had put into it, andkeeping them in exile for two years. 

"I am going to demand an account of the moneys collected by thesubscription for the Champ d'Asile, " he said to one of the frequentersof the cafe, who repeated it to the journalists of the Left. 

Philippe did not go back to the rue Mazarin; he went to Mariette andtold her of his forthcoming appointment on a newspaper with tenthousand subscribers, in which her choregraphic claims should bewarmly advanced. 

Agathe and Madame Descoings waited up for Philippe in fear andtrembling, for the Duc de Berry had just been assassinated. Thecolonel came home a few minutes after breakfast; and when his mothershowed her uneasiness at his absence, he grew angry and asked if hewere not of age. 

"In the name of thunder, what's all this! here have I brought you somegood news, and you both look like tombstones. The Duc de Berry isdead, is he?--well, so much the better! that's one the less, at anyrate. As for me, I am to be cashier of a newspaper, with a salary ofthree thousand francs, and there you are, out of all your anxieties onmy account. "

"Is it possible?" cried Agathe. 

"Yes; provided you can go security for me in twenty thousand francs;you need only deposit your shares in the Funds, you will draw theinterest all the same. "

The two widows, who for nearly two months had been desperately anxiousto find out what Philippe was about, and how he could be provided for, were so overjoyed at this prospect that they gave no thought to theirother catastrophes. That evening, the Grecian sages, old Du Bruel, Claparon, whose health was failing, and the inflexible Desroches wereunanimous; they all advised Madame Bridau to go security for her son. The new journal, which fortunately was started before theassassination of the Duc de Berry, just escaped the blow whichMonsieur Decazes then launched at the press. Madame Bridau's shares inthe Funds, representing thirteen hundred francs' interest, weretransferred as security for Philippe, who was then appointed cashier. That good son at once promised to pay one hundred francs every monthto the two widows, for his board and lodging, and was declared by bothto be the best of sons. Those who had thought ill of him nowcongratulated Agathe. 

"We were unjust to him, " they said. 

Poor Joseph, not to be behind his brother in generosity, resolved topay for his own support, and succeeded. 

 CHAPTER IV

Three months later, the colonel, who ate and drank enough for fourmen, finding fault with the food and compelling the poor widows, onthe score of his payments, to spend much money on their table, had notyet paid down a single penny. His mother and Madame Descoings wereunwilling, out of delicacy, to remind him of his promise. The yearwent by without one of those coins which Leon Gozlan so vigorouslycalled "tigers with five claws" finding its way from Philippe's pocketto the household purse. It is true that the colonel quieted hisconscience on this score by seldom dining at home. 

"Well, he is happy, " said his mother; "he is easy in mind; he has aplace. "

Through the influence of a feuilleton, edited by Vernou, a friend ofBixiou, Finot, and Giroudeau, Mariette made her appearance, not at thePanorama-Dramatique but at the Porte-Saint-Martin, where she triumphedbeside the famous Begrand. Among the directors of the theatre was arich and luxurious general officer, in love with an actress, for whosesake he had made himself an impresario. In Paris, we frequently meetwith 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, waspromptly arranged by the three officers; for there seems to besolidarity among the passions in a matter of folly. 

The mischievous Bixiou was not long in revealing to his grandmotherand the devoted Agathe that Philippe, the cashier, the hero of heroes, was in love with Mariette, the celebrated ballet-dancer at thePorte-Saint-Martin. The news was a thunder-clap to the two widows;Agathe's religious principles taught her to think that all women onthe stage were brands in the burning; moreover, she thought, and sodid Madame Descoings, that women of that kind dined off gold, drankpearls, and wasted fortunes. 

"Now do you suppose, " said Joseph to his mother, "that my brother issuch a fool as to spend his money on Mariette? Such women only ruinrich men. "

"They talk of engaging Mariette at the Opera, " said Bixiou. "Don'tbe worried, Madame Bridau; the diplomatic body often comes to thePorte-Saint-Martin, and that handsome girl won't stay long with yourson. I did hear that an ambassador was madly in love with her. By thebye, another piece of news! Old Claparon is dead, and his son, whohas become a banker, has ordered the cheapest kind of funeral for him. That fellow has no education; they wouldn't behave like that inChina. "

Philippe, prompted by mercenary motives, proposed to Mariette that sheshould marry him; but she, knowing herself on the eve of an engagementat the Grand Opera, refused the offer, either because she guessed thecolonel's motive, or because she saw how important her independencewould be to her future fortune. For the remainder of this year, Philippe never came more than twice a month to see his mother. Wherewas he? Either at his office, or the theatre, or with Mariette. Nolight whatever as to his conduct reached the household of the rueMazarin. Giroudeau, Finot, Bixiou, Vernou, Lousteau, saw him leading alife of pleasure. Philippe shared the gay amusements of Tullia, aleading singer at the Opera, of Florentine, who took Mariette's placeat the Porte-Saint-Martin, of Florine and Matifat, Coralie andCamusot. After four o'clock, when he left his office, until midnight, he amused himself; some party of pleasure had usually been arrangedthe night before, --a good dinner, a card-party, a supper by some oneor other of the set. Philippe was in his element. 

This carnival, which lasted eighteen months, was not altogetherwithout its troubles. The beautiful Mariette no sooner appeared at theOpera, in January, 1821, than she captured one of the mostdistinguished dukes of the court of Louis XVIII. Philippe tried tomake head against the peer, and by the month of April he was compelledby his passion, notwithstanding some luck at cards, to dip into thefunds of which he was cashier. By May he had taken eleven hundredfrancs. In that fatal month Mariette started for London, to see whatcould be done with the lords while the temporary opera house in theHotel Choiseul, rue Lepelletier, was being prepared. The lucklessPhilippe had ended, as often happens, in loving Mariettenotwithstanding her flagrant infidelities; she herself had neverthought him anything but a dull-minded, brutal soldier, the first rungof a ladder on which she had never intended to remain long. So, foreseeing the time when Philippe would have spent all his money, shecaptured other journalistic support which released her from thenecessity of depending on him; nevertheless, she did feel the peculiargratitude that class of women acknowledge towards the first man whosmooths their way, as it were, among the difficulties and horrors of atheatrical career. 

Forced to let his terrible mistress go to London without him, Philippewent into winter quarters, as he called it, --that is, he returned tohis attic room in his mother's _appartement_. He made some gloomyreflections as he went to bed that night, and when he got up again. Hewas conscious within himself of the inability to live otherwise thanas he had been living the last year. The luxury that surroundedMariette, the dinners, the suppers, the evenings in the side-scenes, the animation of wits and journalists, the sort of racket that went onaround him, the delights that tickled both his senses and his vanity, --such a life, found only in Paris, and offering daily the charm ofsome new thing, was now more than habit, --it had become to Philippe asmuch a necessity as his tobacco or his brandy. He saw plainly that hecould not live without these continual enjoyments. The idea of suicidecame into his head; not on account of the deficit which must soon bediscovered in his accounts, but because he could no longer live withMariette in the atmosphere of pleasure in which he had disportedhimself for over a year. Full of these gloomy thoughts, he entered forthe first time his brother's painting-room, where he found the painterin a blue blouse, copying a picture for a dealer. 

"So that's how pictures are made, " said Philippe, by way of openingthe conversation. 

"No, " said Joseph, "that is how they are copied. "

"How much do they pay you for that?"

"Eh! never enough; two hundred and fifty francs. But I study themanner of the masters and learn a great deal; I found out the secretsof their method. There's one of my own pictures, " he added, pointingwith the end of his brush to a sketch with the colors still moist. 

"How much do you pocket in a year?"

"Unfortunately, I am known only to painters. Schinner backs me; and hehas got me some work at the Chateau de Presles, where I am going inOctober to do some arabesques, panels, and other decorations, forwhich the Comte de Serizy, no doubt, will pay well. With such triflesand with orders from the dealers, I may manage to earn eighteenhundred to two thousand francs a year over and above the workingexpenses. I shall send that picture to the next exhibition; if it hitsthe public taste, my fortune is made. My friends think well of it. "

"I don't know anything about such things, " said Philippe, in a subduedvoice which caused Joseph to turn and look at him. 

"What is the matter?" said the artist, seeing that his brother wasvery pale. 

"I should like to know how long it would take you to paint myportrait?"

"If I worked steadily, and the weather were clear, I could finish itin three or four days. "

"That's too long; I have only one day to give you. My poor motherloves me so much that I wished to leave her my likeness. We will sayno more about it. "

"Why! are you going away again?"

"I am going never to return, " replied Philippe with an air of forcedgayety. 

"Look here, Philippe, what is the matter? If it is anything serious, Iam a man and not a ninny. I am accustomed to hard struggles, and ifdiscretion 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?"

"I am going to kill myself. "

"Why?"

"I have taken eleven hundred francs from the funds in my hands; I havegot to send in my accounts to-morrow morning. Half my security islost; 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 amdishonored! I cannot live under dishonor--"

"You will not be dishonored if it is paid back. To be sure, you willlose your place, and you will only have the five hundred francs a yearfrom your cross; but you can live on five hundred francs. "

"Farewell!" said Philippe, running rapidly downstairs, and not waitingto hear another word. 

Joseph left his studio and went down to breakfast with his mother; butPhilippe's confession had taken away his appetite. He took MadameDescoings aside and told her the terrible news. The old woman made afrightened exclamation, let fall the saucepan of milk she had in herhand, and flung herself into a chair. Agathe rushed in; from oneexclamation to another the mother gathered the fatal truth. 

"He! to fail in honor! the son of Bridau to take the money that wastrusted to him!"

The widow trembled in every limb; her eyes dilated and then grewfixed; she sat down and burst into tears. 

"Where is he?" she cried amid the sobs. "Perhaps he has flung himselfinto the Seine. "

"You must not give up all hope, " said Madame Descoings, "because apoor lad has met with a bad woman who has led him to do wrong. Dearme! we see that every day. Philippe has had such misfortunes! he hashad so little chance to be happy and loved that we ought not to besurprised at his passion for that creature. All passions lead toexcess. My own life is not without reproach of that kind, and yet Icall myself an honest woman. A single fault is not vice; and afterall, it is only those who do nothing that are never deceived. "

Agathe's despair overcame her so much that Joseph and the Descoingswere obliged to lessen Philippe's wrong-doings by assuring her thatsuch things happened in all families. 

"But he is twenty-eight years old, " cried Agathe, "he is no longer achild. "

Terrible revelation of the inward thought of the poor woman on theconduct of her son. 

"Mother, I assure you he thought only of your sufferings and of thewrong he had done you, " said Joseph. 

"Oh, my God! let him come back to me, let him live, and I will forgiveall, " cried the poor mother, to whose mind a horrible vision ofPhilippe dragged dead out of the river presented itself. 

Gloomy silence reigned for a short time. The day went by with cruelalternations of hope and fear; all three ran to the window at theleast sound, and gave way to every sort of conjecture. While thefamily were thus grieving, Philippe was quietly getting matters inorder at his office. He had the audacity to give in his accounts witha statement that, fearing some accident, he had retained elevenhundred francs at his own house for safe keeping. The scoundrel leftthe office at five o'clock, taking five hundred francs more from thedesk, and coolly went to a gambling-house, which he had not enteredsince his connection with the paper, for he knew very well that acashier must not be seen to frequent such a place. The fellow was notwanting in acumen. His past conduct proved that he derived more fromhis grandfather Rouget than from his virtuous sire, Bridau. Perhaps hemight have made a good general; but in private life, he was one ofthose utter scoundrels who shelter their schemes and their evilactions behind a screen of strict legality, and the privacy of thefamily roof. 

At this conjuncture Philippe maintained his coolness. He won at first, and gained as much as six thousand francs; but he let himself bedazzled by the idea of getting out of his difficulties at one stroke. He left the trente-et-quarante, hearing that the black had come upsixteen times at the roulette table, and was about to put fivethousand francs on the red, when the black came up for the seventeenthtime. The colonel then put a thousand francs on the black and won. Inspite of this remarkable piece of luck, his head grew weary; he feltit, though he continued to play. But that divining sense which leads agambler, and which comes in flashes, was already failing him. Intermittent perceptions, so fatal to all gamblers, set in. Lucidityof mind, like the rays of the sun, can have no effect except by thecontinuity of a direct line; it can divine only on condition of notbreaking that line; the curvettings of chance bemuddle it. Philippelost all. After such a strain, the careless mind as well as thebravest weakens. When Philippe went home that night he was notthinking of suicide, for he had never really meant to kill himself; heno longer thought of his lost place, nor of the sacrificed security, nor of his mother, nor of Mariette, the cause of his ruin; he walkedalong mechanically. When he got home, his mother in tears, MadameDescoings, and Joseph, all fell on his neck and kissed him and broughthim 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 themore easily, because his ill-luck at cards had deeply depressed him. Seeing her atrocious Benjamin so pale and woe-begone, the poor motherknelt beside him, kissed his hands, pressed them to her heart, andgazed at him for a long time with eyes swimming in tears. 

"Philippe, " she said, in a choking voice, "promise not to killyourself, 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 goodcreatures. " Then he took his mother in his arms, raised her and puther on his knee, pressed her to his heart and whispered as he kissedher, "For the second time, you give me life. "

The Descoings managed to serve an excellent dinner, and to add twobottles of old wine with a little "liqueur des iles, " a treasure leftover from her former business. 

"Agathe, " she said at dessert, "we must let him smoke his cigars, " andshe offered some to Philippe. 

These two poor creatures fancied that if they let the fellow take hisease, he would like his home and stay in it; both, therefore, tried toendure his tobacco-smoke, though each loathed it. That sacrifice wasnot 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 eyethroughout that horrible night. She was now reduced to six hundredfrancs a year. Madame Descoings, like all fat women fond of goodeating, was growing heavy; her step on the staircase sounded like thechopping of logs; she might die at any moment; with her life, fourthousand francs would disappear. What folly to rely on that resource!What should she do? What would become of them? With her mind made upto become a sick-nurse rather than be supported by her children, Agathe did not think of herself. But Philippe? what would he do ifreduced to live on the five hundred francs of an officer of the Legionof honor? During the past eleven years, Madame Descoings, by giving upthree thousand francs a year, had paid her debt twice over, but shestill continued to sacrifice her grandson's interests to those of theBridau family. Though all Agathe's honorable and upright feelings wereshocked by this terrible disaster, she said to herself: "Poor boy! isit his fault? He is faithful to his oath. I have done wrong not tomarry him. If I had found him a wife, he would not have got entangledwith this danseuse. He has such a vigorous constitution--"

Madame Descoings had likewise reflected during the night as to thebest way of saving the honor of the family. At daybreak, she got outof bed and went to her friend's room. 

"Neither you nor Philippe should manage this delicate matter, " sheurged. "Our two old friends Du Bruel and Claparon are dead, but westill have Desroches, who is very sagacious. I'll go and see him thismorning. He can tell the newspaper people that Philippe trusted afriend and has been made a victim; that his weakness in such respectsmakes him unfit to be a cashier; what has now happened may happenagain, and that Philippe prefers to resign. That will prevent hisbeing turned off. "

Agathe, seeing that this business lie would save the honor of her son, at any rate in the eyes of strangers, kissed Madame Descoings, whowent 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 whybreakfast 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 obtainedfor him his place, fulfilled like an accomplished diplomat thedelicate mission Madame Descoings had confided to him. He came to dinethat evening with the family, and notified Agathe that she must go thenext day to the Treasury, rue Vivienne, sign the transfer of the fundsinvolved, and obtain a coupon for the six hundred francs a year whichstill remained to her. The old clerk did not leave the afflictedhousehold that night without obliging Philippe to sign a petition tothe minister of war, asking for his reinstatement in the active army. Desroches promised the two women to follow up the petition at the waroffice, and to profit by the triumph of a certain duke over Philippein the matter of the danseuse, and so obtain that nobleman'sinfluence. 

"Philippe will be lieutenant-colonel in the Duc de Maufrigneuse'sregiment within three months, " he declared, "and you will be rid ofhim. "

Desroches went away, smothered with blessings from the two poor widowsand Joseph. As to the newspaper, it ceased to exist at the end of twomonths, just as Finot had predicted. Philippe's crime had, therefore, so far as the world knew, no consequences. But Agathe's motherhood hadreceived a deadly wound. Her belief in her son once shaken, she livedin perpetual fear, mingled with some satisfactions, as she saw herworst apprehensions unrealized. 

When men like Philippe, who are endowed with physical courage, and yetare cowardly and ignoble in their moral being, see matters and thingsresuming their accustomed course about them after some catastrophe inwhich their honor and decency is well-nigh lost, such family kindness, or any show of friendliness towards them is a premium ofencouragement. They count on impunity; their minds distorted, theirpassions gratified, only prompt them to study how it happened thatthey succeeded in getting round all social laws; the result is theybecome alarmingly adroit. 

A fortnight later, Philippe, once more a man of leisure, lazy andbored, renewed his fatal cafe life, --his drams, his long games ofbilliards embellished with punch, his nightly resort to thegambling-table, where he risked some trifling stake and won enough topay for his dissipations. Apparently very economical, the better todeceive 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 dirty was itby long service at the buttonhole and by the spatterings of coffee andliquors. His buckskin gloves, of a greenish tinge, lasted him a longwhile; and he only gave up his satin neckcloth when it was raggedenough to look like wadding. Mariette was the sole object of thefellow's love, and her treachery had greatly hardened his heart. Whenhe happened to win more than usual, or if he supped with his oldcomrade, Giroudeau, he followed some Venus of the slums, with brutalcontempt for the whole sex. Otherwise regular in his habits, hebreakfasted and dined at home and came in every night about oneo'clock. Three months of this horrible life restored Agathe to somedegree of confidence. 

As for Joseph, who was working at the splendid picture to which heafterwards owed his reputation, he lived in his atelier. On theprediction of her grandson Bixiou, Madame Descoings believed inJoseph's future glory, and she showed him every sort of motherlykindness; she took his breakfast to him, she did his errands, sheblacked his boots. The painter was never seen till dinner-time, andhis evenings were spent at the Cenacle among his friends. He read agreat deal, and gave himself that deep and serious education whichonly comes through the mind itself, and which all men of talent striveafter between the ages of twenty and thirty. Agathe, seeing verylittle of Joseph, and feeling no uneasiness about him, lived only forPhilippe, who gave her the alternations of fears excited and terrorsallayed, which seem the life, as it were, of sentiment, and to be asnecessary to maternity as to love. Desroches, who came once a week tosee the widow of his patron and friend, gave her hopes. The Duc deMaufrigneuse had asked to have Philippe in his regiment; the ministerof war had ordered an inquiry; and as the name of Bridau did notappear on any police list, nor an 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 couldinfluence in motion. At the prefecture of police he learned thatPhilippe spent his evenings in the gambling-house; and he thought itbest to tell this fact privately to Madame Descoings, exhorting herkeep an eye on the lieutenant-colonel, for one outbreak would imperilall; as it was, the minister of war was not likely to inquire whetherPhilippe gambled. Once restored to his rank under the flag of hiscountry, he would perhaps abandon a vice only taken up from idleness. Agathe, who no longer received her friends in the evening, sat in thechimney-corner reading her prayers, while Madame Descoings consultedthe cards, interpreted her dreams, and applied the rules of the"cabala" to her lottery ventures. This jovial fanatic never missed asingle drawing; she still pursued her trey, --which never turned up. Itwas nearly twenty-one years old, just approaching its majority; onthis ridiculous idea the old woman now pinned her faith. One of itsthree numbers had stayed at the bottom of all the wheels ever sincethe institution of the lottery. Accordingly, Madame Descoings laidheavy stakes on that particular number, as well as on all thecombinations of the three numbers. The last mattress remaining to herbed was the place where she stored her savings; she unsewed theticking, put in from time to time the bit of gold saved from herneeds, wrapped carefully in wool, and then sewed the mattress upagain. She intended, at the last drawing, to risk all her savings onthe 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-powerfulfairy of the poor, bestowed the gift of magic hopes. The turn of thewheel which opens to the gambler a vista of gold and happiness, lastsno longer than a flash of lightning, but the lottery gave five days'existence to that magnificent flash. What social power can to-day, forthe sum of five sous, give us five days' happiness and launch usideally into all the joys of civilization? Tobacco, a craving far moreimmoral than play, destroys the body, attacks the mind, and stupefiesa nation; while the lottery did nothing of the kind. This passion, moreover, was forced to keep within limits by the long periods thatoccurred between the drawings, and by the choice of wheels which eachinvestor individually clung to. Madame Descoings never staked on anybut the "wheel of Paris. " Full of confidence that the trey cherishedfor twenty-one years was about to triumph, she now imposed uponherself enormous privations, that she might stake a large amount ofsavings upon the last drawing of the year. When she dreamed hercabalistic visions (for all dreams did not correspond with the numbersof the lottery), she went and told them to Joseph, who was the solebeing who would listen, and not only not scold her, but give her thekindly words with which an artist knows how to soothe the follies ofthe mind. All great talents respect and understand a real passion;they explain it to themselves by finding the roots of it in their ownhearts or minds. Joseph's ideas was, that his brother loved tobaccoand liquors, Maman Descoings loved her trey, his mother loved God, Desroches the younger loved lawsuits, Desroches the elder lovedangling, --in short, all the world, he said, loved something. Hehimself loved the "beau ideal" in all things; he loved the poetry ofLord Byron, the painting of Gericault, the music of Rossini, thenovels of Walter Scott. "Every 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 my little Bixiou as well. "

"Give it all to your grandson, " cried Joseph; "at any rate, do whatyou like best with it. "

"Hey! when it turns up I shall have enough for everybody. In the firstplace, you shall have a fine atelier; you sha'n't deprive yourself ofgoing to the opera so as to pay for your models and your colors. Doyou know, my dear boy, you make me play a pretty shabby part in thatpicture of yours?"

By way of economy, Joseph had made the Descoings pose for hismagnificent painting of a young courtesan taken by an old woman to aDoge of Venice. This picture, one of the masterpieces of modernpainting, was mistaken by Gros himself for a Titian, and it paved theway for the recognition which the younger artists gave to Joseph'stalent in the Salon of 1823. 

"Those who know you know very well what you are, " he answered gayly. "Why need you trouble yourself about those who don't know you?"

For the last ten years Madame Descoings had taken on the ripe tints ofa russet apple at Easter. Wrinkles had formed in her superabundantflesh, now grown pallid and flabby. Her eyes, full of life, werebright with thoughts that were still young and vivacious, and might beconsidered grasping; for there is always something of that spirit in agambler. Her fat face bore traces of dissimulation and of the mentalreservations hidden in the depths of her heart. Her vice necessitatedsecrecy. There were also indications of gluttony in the motion of herlips. And thus, although she was, as we have seen, an excellent andupright woman, the eye might be misled by her appearance. She was anadmirable model for the old woman Joseph wished to paint. Coralie, ayoung actress of exquisite beauty who died in the flower of her youth, the mistress of Lucien de Rubempre, one of Joseph's friends, had givenhim the idea of the picture. This noble painting has been called aplagiarism of other pictures, while in fact it was a splendidarrangement of three portraits. Michel Chrestien, one of hiscompanions at the Cenacle, lent his republican head for the senator, to which Joseph added a few mature tints, just as he exaggerated theexpression of Madame Descoings's features. This fine picture, whichwas destined to make a great noise and bring the artist much hatred, jealousy, and admiration, was just sketched out; but, compelled as hewas to work for a living, he laid it aside to make copies of the oldmasters for the dealers; thus he penetrated the secrets of theirprocesses, and his brush is therefore one of the best trained of themodern school. The shrewd sense of an artist led him to conceal theprofits he was beginning to lay by from his mother and MadameDescoings, aware that each had her road to ruin, --the one in Philippe, the other in the lottery. This astuteness is seldom wanting amongpainters; busy for days 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 thelittle events of life, and they contrive to get at their hiddenmeaning. 

Joseph had bought one of those magnificent chests or coffers of a pastage, then ignored by fashion, with which he decorated a corner of hisstudio, where the light danced upon the bas-reliefs and gave fulllustre to a masterpiece of the sixteenth century artisans. He saw thenecessity for a hiding-place, and in this coffer he had begun toaccumulate a little store of money. With an artist's carelessness, hewas in the habit of putting the sum he allowed for his monthlyexpenses in a skull, which stood on one of the compartments of thecoffer. Since his brother had returned to live at home, he found aconstant discrepancy between the amount he spent and the sum in thisreceptacle. The hundred francs a month disappeared with incrediblecelerity. Finding nothing one day, when he had only spent forty orfifty francs, he remarked for the first time: "My money must have gotwings. " The next month he paid more attention to his accounts; but addas he might, like Robert Macaire, sixteen and five are twenty-three, he could make nothing of them. When, for the third time, he found astill more important discrepancy, he communicated the painful fact toMadame Descoings, who loved him, he knew, with that maternal, tender, confiding, credulous, enthusiastic love that he had never had from hisown mother, good as she was, --a love as necessary to the early life ofan artist as the care of the hen is to her unfledged chickens. To heralone could he confide his horrible suspicions. He was as sure of hisfriends as he was of himself; and the Descoings, he knew, would takenothing to put in her lottery. At the idea which then suggested itselfthe poor woman wrung her hands. Philippe alone could have committedthis domestic theft. 

"Why didn't he ask me, if he wanted it?" cried Joseph, taking a dab ofcolor on his palette and stirring it into the other colors withoutseeing what he did. "Is it likely I should refuse him?"

"It is robbing a child!" cried the Descoings, her face expressing thedeepest disgust. 

"No, " replied Joseph, "he is my brother; my purse is his: but he oughtto have asked me. "

"Put in a special sum, in silver, this morning, and don't takeanything out, " said Madame Descoings. "I shall know who goes into thestudio; and if he is the only one, you 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 thelittle sum he wanted. The artist trembled for his savings. 

"I'll catch him at it, the scamp!" he said, laughing, to MadameDescoings. 

"And you'll do right: we ought to break him of it. I, too, I havemissed little sums out of my purse. Poor boy! he wants tobacco; he'saccustomed to it. "

"Poor boy! poor boy!" cried the artist. "I'm rather of Fulgence andBixiou's opinion: Philippe is a dead-weight on us. He runs his headinto riots and has to be shipped to America, and that costs the mothertwelve thousand francs; he can't find anything to do in the forests ofthe New World, and so he comes back again, and that costs twelvethousand more. Under pretence of having carried two words of Napoleonto a general, he thinks himself a great soldier and makes faces at theBourbons; meantime, what does he do? amuse himself, travel about, seeforeign countries! As for me, I'm not duped by his misfortunes; hedoesn't look like a man who fails to get the best of things! Somebodyfinds him a good place, and there he is, leading the life of aSardanapalus with a ballet-girl, and guzzling the funds of hisjournal; that costs the mother another twelve thousand francs! I don'tcare two straws for myself, but Philippe will bring that poor woman tobeggary. He thinks I'm of no account because I was never in thedragoons of the Guard; but perhaps I shall be the one to support thatpoor 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, 'He is a downrightrogue, that brother of yours. ' Your grandson is right. Philippe willbe up to some mischief that will compromise the honor of the family, and then we shall have to scrape up another ten or twelve thousandfrancs! He gambles every night; when he comes home, drunk as atemplar, he drops on the staircase the pricked cards on which he marksthe turns of the red and black. Old Desroches is trying to get himback into the army, and, on my word on honor, I believe he would hateto serve again. Would you ever have believed that a boy with suchheavenly blue eyes and the look of Bayard could turn out such ascoundrel?"

 CHAPTER V

In spite of the coolness and discretion with which Philippe played histrifling game every night, it happened every now and then that he waswhat gamblers call "cleaned out. " Driven by the irresistible necessityof having his evening stake of ten francs, he plundered the household, and laid hands on his brother's money and on all that Madame Descoingsor Agathe left about. Already the poor mother had had a dreadfulvision in her first sleep: Philippe entered the room and took from thepockets of her gown all the money he could find. Agathe pretended tosleep, but she passed the rest of the night in tears. She saw thetruth only too clearly. "One wrong act is not a vice, " MadameDescoings had declared; but after so many repetitions, vice wasunmistakable. Agathe could doubt no longer; her best-beloved son hadneither delicacy nor honor. 

On the morrow of that frightful vision, before Philippe left the houseafter breakfast, she drew him into her chamber and begged him, in atone of entreaty, to ask her for what money he needed. After that, theapplications were so numerous that in two weeks Agathe was drained ofall her savings. She was literally without a penny, and began to thinkof finding work. The means of earning money had been discussed in theevenings between herself and Madame Descoings, and she had alreadytaken patterns of worsted work to fill in, from a shop called the"Pere de Famille, "--an employment which pays about twenty sous a day. Notwithstanding Agathe's silence on the subject, Madame Descoings hadguessed the motive of this desire to earn money by women's-work. Thechange in her appearance was eloquent: her fresh face had withered, the skin clung to the temples and the cheek-bones, and the foreheadshowed deep lines; her eyes lost their clearness; an inward fire wasevidently consuming her; she wept the greater part of the night. Achief cause of these outward ravages was the necessity of hiding heranguish, her sufferings, her apprehensions. She never went to sleepuntil Philippe came in; she listened for his step, she had learned theinflections of his voice, the variations of his walk, the verylanguage of his cane as it touched the pavement. Nothing escaped her. She knew the degree of drunkenness he had reached, she trembled as sheheard him stumble on the stairs; one night she picked up some piecesof 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, hisstep had something sharp, short and angry about it; he hummed in aclear voice, and carried his cane in the air as if presenting arms. Atbreakfast, if he had won, his behavior was gay and even affectionate;he joked roughly, but still he joked, with Madame Descoings, withJoseph, and with his mother; gloomy, on the contrary, when he hadlost, 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 theface were swollen with blood, the features became coarse, the eyeslost their lashes and grew hard and dry. No longer careful of hisperson, Philippe exhaled the miasmas of a tavern and the smell ofmuddy boots, which, to an observer, stamped him with debauchery. 

"You ought, " said Madame Descoings to Philippe during the last days ofDecember, "you ought to get yourself new-clothed from head to foot. "

"And who is to pay for it?" he answered sharply. "My poor motherhasn't a sou; and I have five hundred francs a year. It would take mywhole year's pension to pay for the clothes; besides I have mortgagedit for three years--"

"What for?" asked Joseph. 

"A debt of honor. Giroudeau borrowed a thousand francs from Florentineto lend me. I am not gorgeous, that's a fact; but when one thinks thatNapoleon is at Saint Helena, and has sold his plate for the means ofliving, his faithful soldiers can manage to walk on their bare feet, "he said, showing his boots without heels, as he marched away. 

"He is not bad, " said Agathe, "he has good feelings. "

"You can love the Emperor and yet dress yourself properly, " saidJoseph. "If he would take any care of himself and his clothes, hewouldn't look so like a vagabond. "

"Joseph! you ought to have some indulgence for your brother, " criedAgathe. "You do the things you like, while he is certainly not in hisright place. "

"What did he leave it for?" demanded Joseph. "What can it matter tohim whether Louis the Eighteenth's bugs or Napoleon's cuckoos are onthe flag, if it is the flag of his country? France is France! For mypart, I'd paint for the devil. A soldier ought to fight, if he is asoldier, for the love of his art. If he had stayed quietly in thearmy, he would have been a general by this time. "

"You are unjust to him, " said Agathe, "your father, who adored theEmperor, would have approved of his conduct. However, he has consentedto re-enter the army. God knows the grief it has caused your brotherto do a thing he considers treachery. "

Joseph rose to return to his studio, but his mother took his hand andsaid:--

"Be good to your brother; he is so unfortunate. "

When the artist got back to his painting-room, followed by MadameDescoings, who begged him to humor his mother's feelings, and pointedout to him how changed she was, and what inward suffering the changerevealed, they found Philippe there, to their great amazement. 

"Joseph, my boy, " he said, in an off-hand way, "I want some money. Confound it! I owe thirty francs for cigars at my tobacconist's, and Idare not pass the cursed shop till I've paid it. I've promised to payit a dozen times. "

"Well, I like your present way best, " said Joseph; "take what you wantout of the skull. "

"I took all there was last night, after dinner. "

"There was forty-five francs. "

"Yes, that's what I made it, " replied Philippe. "I took them; is thereany objection?"

"No, my friend, no, " said Joseph. "If you were rich, I should do thesame by you; only, before taking what I wanted, I should ask you if itwere convenient. "

"It is very humiliating to ask, " remarked Philippe; "I would rathersee you taking as I do, without a word; it shows more confidence. Inthe army, if a comrade dies, and has a good pair of boots, and youhave a bad pair, you change, that's all. "

"Yes, but you don't take them while he is living. "

"Oh, what meanness!" said Philippe, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, soyou haven'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 trey is going to turn up on the 25th at theParis drawing. You must have put in a fine stake if you think you canmake 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 justtwo hundred you must pay up!" cried Philippe. 

Madame Descoings bit her lips; she knew she had spoken imprudently. Infact, Philippe was asking himself as he went downstairs:--

"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, Icould win two hundred thousand francs, and that's much surer than theturning up of a trey. "

He tried to think where the old woman was likely to have hid themoney. On the days preceding festivals, Agathe went to church andstayed there a long time; no doubt she confessed and prepared for thecommunion. It was now the day before Christmas; Madame Descoings wouldcertainly go out to buy some dainties for the "reveillon, " themidnight meal; and she might also take occasion to pay up her stake. The lottery was drawn every five days in different localities, atBordeaux, Lyons, Lille, Strasburg, and Paris. The Paris lottery wasdrawn on the twenty-fifth of each month, and the lists closed on thetwenty-fourth, at midnight. Philippe studied all these points and sethimself 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 theconcierge to go herself and get a locksmith, who lived close by, andwho came at once and opened the door. The villain's first thought wasthe bed; he uncovered it, passed his hands over the mattress before heexamined the bedstead, and at the lower end felt the pieces wrapped upin paper. He at once ripped the ticking, picked out twenty napoleons, and then, without taking time to sew up the mattress, re-made the bedneatly enough, so that Madame Descoings could suspect nothing. 

The gambler stole off with a light foot, resolving to play at threedifferent times, three hours apart, and each time for only tenminutes. Thorough-going players, ever since 1786, the time at whichpublic gaming-houses were established, --the true players whom thegovernment dreaded, and who ate up, to use a gambling term, the moneyof the bank, --never played in any other way. But before attaining thismeasure of experience they lost fortunes. The whole science ofgambling-houses and their gains rests upon three things: theimpassibility of the bank; the even results called "drawn games, " whenhalf the money goes to the bank; and the notorious bad faithauthorized by the government, in refusing to hold or pay the player'sstakes except optionally. In a word, the gambling-house, which refusesthe game of a rich and cool player, devours the fortune of the foolishand obstinate one, who is carried away by the rapid movement of themachinery of the game. The croupiers at "trente et quarante" movenearly as fast as the ball. 

Philippe had ended by acquiring the sang-froid of a commandinggeneral, which enables him to keep his eye clear and his mind promptin the midst of tumult. He had reached that statesmanship of gamblingwhich in Paris, let us say in passing, is the livelihood of thousandswho are strong enough to look every night into an abyss withoutgetting a vertigo. With his four hundred francs, Philippe resolved tomake his fortune that day. He put aside, in his boots, two hundredfrancs, and kept the other two hundred in his pocket. At three o'clockhe went to the gambling-house (which is now turned into the theatre ofthe Palais-Royal), where the bank accepted the largest sums. He cameout half an hour later with seven thousand francs in his pocket. Thenhe went to see Florentine, paid the five hundred francs which he owedto her, and proposed a supper at the Rocher de Cancale after thetheatre. Returning to his game, along the rue de Sentier, he stoppedat Giroudeau's newspaper-office to notify him of the gala. By sixo'clock Philippe had won twenty-five thousand francs, and stoppedplaying at the end of ten minutes as he had promised himself to do. That night, by ten o'clock, he had won seventy-five thousand francs. After the supper, which was magnificent, Philippe, by that time drunkand confident, went back to his play at midnight. In defiance of therule he had imposed upon himself, he played for an hour and doubledhis fortune. The bankers, from whom, by his system of playing, he hadextracted one hundred and fifty thousand francs, looked at him withcuriosity. 

"Will he go away now, or will he stay?" they said to each other by aglance. "If he stays he is lost. "

Philippe thought he had struck a vein of luck, and stayed. Towardsthree in the morning, the hundred and fifty thousand francs had goneback to the bank. The colonel, who had imbibed a considerable quantityof grog while playing, left the place in a drunken state, which thecold of the outer air only increased. A waiter from the gambling-housefollowed him, picked him up, and took him to one of those horriblehouses at the door of which, on a hanging lamp, are the words:"Lodgings for the night. " The waiter paid for the ruined gambler, whowas put to bed, where he remained till Christmas night. The managersof gambling-houses have some consideration for their customers, especially for high players. Philippe awoke about seven o'clock in theevening, his mouth parched, his face swollen, and he himself in thegrip of a nervous fever. The strength of his constitution enabled himto get home on foot, where meanwhile he had, without willing it, brought mourning, desolation, poverty, and death. 

The evening before, when dinner was ready, Madame Descoings and Agatheexpected Philippe. They waited dinner till seven o'clock. Agathealways went to bed at ten; but as, on this occasion, she wished to bepresent at the midnight mass, she went to lie down as soon as dinnerwas over. Madame Descoings and Joseph remained alone by the fire inthe little salon, which served for all, and the old woman asked thepainter to add up the amount of her great stake, her monstrous stake, on the famous trey, which she was to pay that evening at the Lotteryoffice. She wished to put in for the doubles and singles as well, soas 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 ofsuccess, she felt no other uneasiness than the difficulty of bearingsuch joy, and waiting from mid-night until ten o'clock of the morrow, when the winning numbers were declared. Joseph, who saw nothing of thefour hundred francs necessary to pay up the stakes, asked about them. The old woman smiled, and led him into the former salon, which was nowher bed-chamber. 

"You shall see, " she said. 

Madame Descoings hastily unmade the bed, and searched for her scissorsto rip the mattress; she put on her spectacles, looked at the ticking, saw the hole, and let fall the mattress. Hearing a sigh from thedepths of the old woman's breast, as though she were strangled by arush of blood to the heart, Joseph instinctively held out his arms tocatch the poor creature, and placed her fainting in a chair, callingto his mother to come to them. Agathe rose, slipped on herdressing-gown, and ran in. By the light of a candle, she applied theordinary remedies, --eau-de-cologne to the temples, cold water to theforehead, a burnt feather under the nose, --and presently her auntrevived. 

"They were there is morning; HE has taken them, the monster!" shesaid. 

"Taken what?" asked Joseph. 

"I had twenty louis in my mattress; my savings for two years; no onebut Philippe could have taken them. "

"But when?" cried the poor mother, overwhelmed, "he has not been insince breakfast. "

"I wish I might be mistaken, " said the old woman. "But this morning inJoseph's studio, when I spoke before Philippe of my stakes, I had apresentiment. I did wrong not to go down and take my little all andpay for my stakes at once. I meant to, and I don't know what preventedme. Oh, yes!--my God! I went out to buy him some cigars. "

"But, " said Joseph, "you left the door locked. Besides, it is soinfamous. I can't believe it. Philippe couldn't have watched you, cutopen the mattress, done it deliberately, --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 induring the day. The concierge related the tale of his return and thelocksmith. The mother, heart-stricken, went back a changed woman. White as the linen of her chemise, she walked as we might fancy aspectre walks, slowly, noiselessly, moved by some superhuman power, and yet mechanically. She held a candle in her hand, whose light fellfull upon her face and showed her eyes, fixed with horror. Unconsciously, her hands by a desperate movement had dishevelled thehair about her brow; and this made her so beautiful with anguish thatJoseph stood rooted in awe at the apparition of that remorse, thevision of that statue of terror and despair. 

"My aunt, " she said, "take my silver forks and spoons. I have enoughto make up the sum; I took your money for Philippe's sake; I thought Icould put it back before you missed it. Oh! I have suffered much. "

She sat down. Her dry, fixed eyes wandered a little. 

"It was he who did it, " whispered the old woman to Joseph. 

"No, no, " cried Agathe; "take my silver plate, sell it; it is uselessto me; we can eat with yours. "

She went to her room, took the box which contained the plate, felt itslight weight, opened it, and saw a pawnbroker's ticket. The poormother uttered a dreadful cry. Joseph and the Descoings ran to her, saw the empty box, and her noble falsehood was of no avail. All threewere silent, and avoided looking at each other; but the next moment, by an almost frantic gesture, Agathe laid her finger on her lips as ifto entreat a secrecy no one desired to break. They returned to thesalon, and sat beside the fire. 

"Ah! my children, " cried Madame Descoings, "I am stabbed to the heart:my trey will turn up, I am certain of it. I am not thinking of myself, but of you two. Philippe is a monster, " she continued, addressing herniece; "he does not love you after all that you have done for him. Ifyou do not protect yourself against him he will bring you to beggary. Promise me to sell out your Funds and buy a life-annuity. Joseph has agood profession and he can live. If you will do this, dear Agathe, youwill never be an expense to Joseph. Monsieur Desroches has juststarted his son as a notary; he would take your twelve thousand francsand pay you an annuity. "

Joseph seized his mother's candlestick, rushed up to his studio, andcame down with three hundred francs. 

"Here, Madame Descoings!" he cried, giving her his little store, "itis no business of ours what you do with your money; we owe you whatyou have lost, and here it is, almost in full. "

"Take your poor little all?--the fruit of those privations that havemade me so unhappy! are you mad, Joseph?" cried the old woman, visiblytorn between her dogged faith in the coming trey, and the sacrilege ofaccepting such a sacrifice. 

"Oh! take it if you like, " said Agathe, who was moved to tears by thisaction of her true son. 

Madame Descoings took Joseph by the head, and kissed him on theforehead:--

"My child, " she said, "don't tempt me. I might only lose it. Thelottery, you see, is all folly. "

No more heroic words were ever uttered in the hidden dramas ofdomestic life. It was, indeed, affection triumphant over inveteratevice. At this instant, the clocks struck midnight. 

"It is too late now, " said Madame Descoings. 

"Oh!" cried Joseph, "here are your cabalistic numbers. "

The artist sprang at the paper, and rushed headlong down the staircaseto pay the stakes. When he was no longer present, Agathe and MadameDescoings burst into tears. 

"He has gone, the dear love, " cried the old gambler; "but it shall allbe his; he pays his own money. "

Unhappily, Joseph did not know the way to any of the lottery-offices, which in those days were as well known to most people as thecigarshops to a smoker in ours. The painter ran along, reading thestreet names upon the lamps. When he asked the passers-by to show hima lottery-office, he was told they were all closed, except the oneunder the portico of the Palais-Royal which was sometimes kept open alittle later. He flew to the Palais-Royal: the office was shut. 

"Two minutes earlier, and you might have paid your stake, " said one ofthe vendors of tickets, whose beat was under the portico, where hevociferated this singular 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 laRotonde, Joseph examined these tickets to see if, by chance, any ofthem bore the Descoings's numbers. He found none, and returned homegrieved at having done his best in vain for the old woman, to whom herelated his ill-luck. Agathe and her aunt went together to themidnight mass at Saint-Germain-des-Pres. Joseph went to bed. Thecollation did not take place. Madame Descoings had lost her head; andin Agathe's heart was eternal mourning. 

The two rose late on Christmas morning. Ten o'clock had struck beforeMadame Descoings began to bestir herself about the breakfast, whichwas only ready at half-past eleven. At that hour, the oblong framescontaining the winning numbers are hung over the doors of thelottery-offices. If Madame Descoings had paid her stake and held herticket, she would have gone by half-past nine o'clock to learn her fateat a building close to the ministry of Finance, in the rueNeuve-des-Petits Champs, a situation now occupied by the TheatreVentadour in the place of the same name. On the days when the drawingstook place, an observer might watch with curiosity the crowd of oldwomen, cooks, and old men assembled about the door of this building;a sight as remarkable as the cue of people about the Treasury on thedays when the dividends are paid. 

"Well, here you are, rolling in wealth!" said old Desroches, cominginto the room just as the Descoings was swallowing her last drop ofcoffee. 

"What do you mean?" cried poor Agathe. 

"Her trey has turned up, " he said, producing the list of numberswritten on a bit of paper, such as the officials of the lottery put byhundreds into little wooden bowls on their counters. 

Joseph read the list. Agathe read the list. The Descoings readnothing; she was struck down as by a thunderbolt. At the change in herface, at the cry she gave, old Desroches and Joseph carried her to herbed. Agathe went for a doctor. The poor woman was seized withapoplexy, and she only recovered consciousness at four in theafternoon; old Haudry, her doctor, then said that, in spite of thisimprovement, she ought to settle her worldly affairs and think of hersalvation. She herself only uttered two words:--

"Three millions!"

Old Desroches, informed by Joseph, with due reservations, of the stateof things, related many instances where lottery-players had seen afortune escape them on the very day when, by some fatality, they hadforgotten to pay their stakes; but he thoroughly understood that sucha blow might be fatal when it came after twenty years' perseverance. About five o'clock, as a deep silence reigned in the little_appartement_, and the sick woman, watched by Joseph and his mother, theone sitting at the foot, the other at the head of her bed, wasexpecting her grandson Bixiou, whom Desroches had gone to fetch, thesound of Philippe's step and cane resounded on the staircase. 

"There he is! there he is!" cried the Descoings, sitting up in bed andsuddenly able to use her paralyzed tongue. 

Agathe and Joseph were deeply impressed by this powerful effect of thehorror which violently agitated the old woman. Their painful suspensewas soon ended by the sight of Philippe's convulsed and purple face, his staggering walk, and the horrible state of his eyes, which weredeeply 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 eator drink?--and my throat on fire! Well, what's the matter? The devilis 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. "At least, respect thesorrows you have caused. "

"_Monsieur_, indeed!" he cried, looking at his mother. "My dear littlemother, that won't do. Have you ceased to love your son?"

"Are you worthy of love? Have you forgotten what you did yesterday? Goand find yourself another home; you cannot live with us any longer, --that is, after to-morrow, " she added; "for in the state you are innow it is difficult--"

"To turn me out, --is that it?" he interrupted. "Ha! are you going toplay the melodrama of 'The Banished Son'? Well done! is that how youtake things? You are all a pretty set! What harm have I done? I'vecleaned out the old woman's mattress. What the devil is the good ofmoney kept in wool? Do you call that a crime? Didn't she take twentythousand francs from you? We are her creditors, and I've paid myselfas much as I could get, --that's all. "

"My God! my God!" cried the dying woman, clasping her hands andpraying. 

"Be silent!" exclaimed Joseph, springing at his brother and puttinghis 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 heflung him on a sofa. "Don't dare to touch the moustache of a commanderof a squadron of the dragoons of the Guard!"

"She has paid me back all that she owed me, " cried Agathe, rising andturning an angry face to her son; "and besides, that is my affair. Youhave killed her. Go away, my son, " she added, with a gesture that tookall her remaining strength, "and never let me see you again. You are amonster. "

"I kill her?"

"Her trey has turned up, " cried Joseph, "and you stole the money forher stake. "

"Well, if she is dying of a lost trey, it isn't I who have killedher, " said the drunkard. 

"Go, go!" said Agathe. "You fill me with horror; you have every vice. My God! is this my son?"

A hollow rattle sounded in Madame Descoings's throat, increasingAgathe's anger. 

"I love you still, my mother, --you who are the cause of all mymisfortunes, " said Philippe. "You turn me out of doors onChristmas-day. What did you do to grandpa Rouget, to your father, that he should drive you away and disinherit you? If you had notdispleased him, we should all be rich now, and I should not bereduced to misery. What did you do to your father, --you who are agood woman? You see by your own self, I may be a good fellow andyet 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 entered. Joseph had justknocked his brother over and stretched him on the ground. 

"He is a regular wild beast, " he cried. "Don't speak another word, orI'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 asMadame Descoings; undress him and put him to bed; get off his boots. "

"That's easy to say, " cried Bixiou, "but they must be cut off; hislegs are swollen. "

Agathe took a pair of scissors. When she had cut down the boots, whichin those days were worn outside the clinging trousers, ten pieces ofgold rolled on the floor. 

"There it is, --her money, " 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 by Bixiou, carried him to his room. Doctor Haudry was obliged to write a line tothe Hopital de la Charite and borrow a strait-waistcoat; for thedelirium ran so high as to make him fear that Philippe might killhimself, --he was raving. At nine o'clock calm was restored. The AbbeLoraux and Desroches endeavored to comfort Agathe, who never ceased toweep at her aunt's bedside. She listened to them in silence, andobstinately shook her head; Joseph and the Descoings alone knew theextent and depth of her inward wound. 

"He will learn to do better, mother, " said Joseph, when Desroches andBixiou had left. 

"Oh!" cried the widow, "Philippe is right, --my father cursed me: Ihave no right to-- Here, here is your money, " she said to MadameDescoings, adding Joseph's three hundred francs to the two hundredfound on Philippe. "Go and see if your brother does not needsomething, " she said to Joseph. 

"Will you keep a promise made to a dying woman?" asked MadameDescoings, who felt that her mind was failing her. 

"Yes, aunt. "

"Then swear to me to give your property to young Desroches for a lifeannuity. My income ceases at my death; and from what you have justsaid, I know you will let that wretch wring the last farthing out ofyou. "

"I swear it, aunt. "

The old woman died on the 31st of December, five days after theterrible blow which old Desroches had so innocently given her. Thefive hundred francs--the only money in the household--were barelyenough to pay for her funeral. She left a small amount of silver andsome furniture, the value of which Madame Bixiou paid over to hergrandson Bixiou. Reduced to eight hundred francs' annuity paid to herby young Desroches, who had bought a business without clients, andhimself took the capital of twelve thousand francs, Agathe gave up her_appartement_ on the third floor, and sold all her superfluousfurniture. When, at the end of a month, Philippe seemed to beconvalescent, his mother coldly explained to him that the costs of hisillness had taken all her ready money, that she should be obliged infuture to work for her living, and she urged him, with the utmostkindness, to re-enter the army and support himself. 

"You might have spared me that sermon, " said Philippe, looking at hismother with an eye that was cold from utter indifference. "I have seenall along that neither you nor my brother love me. I am alone in theworld; 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 feelingwhich was all that could give value to the embrace. 

"Where shall you go?" asked Agathe. 

"To Florentine, Girodeau's mistress. Ah! they are real friends!" heanswered brutally. 

He went away. Agathe turned back with trembling limbs, and failingeyes, and aching heart. She fell upon her knees, prayed God to takeher unnatural child into His own keeping, and abdicated her woefulmotherhood. 

 CHAPTER VI

By February, 1822, Madame Bridau had settled into the attic roomrecently occupied by Philippe, which was over the kitchen of herformer _appartement_. The painter's studio and bedroom was opposite, onthe other side of the staircase. When Joseph saw his mother thusreduced, he was determined to make her as comfortable as possible. After his brother's departure he assisted in the re-arrangement of thegarret room, to which he gave an artist's touch. He added a rug; thebed, simple in character but exquisite in taste, had somethingmonastic about it; the walls, hung with a cheap glazed cotton selectedwith taste, of a color which harmonized with the furniture and wasnewly covered, gave the room an air of elegance and nicety. In thehallway 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 circumstancesthat the life of any woman could have in Paris, Agathe was at leastbetter off than all others in a like case, thanks to her son. 

To save his mother from the cruel cares of such reduced housekeeping, Joseph took her every day to dine at a table-d'hote in the rue deBeaune, frequented by well-bred women, deputies, and titled people, where each person's dinner cost ninety francs a month. Having nothingbut the breakfast to provide, Agathe took up for her son the oldhabits she had formerly had with the father. But in spite of Joseph'spious lies, she discovered the fact that her dinner was costing himnearly a hundred francs a month. Alarmed at such enormous expense, andnot imaging that her son could earn much money by painting nakedwomen, she obtained, thanks to her confessor, the Abbe Loraux, a placeworth seven hundred francs a year in a lottery-office belonging to theComtesse de Bauvan, the widow of a Chouan leader. The lottery-officesof the government, the lot, as one might say, of privileged widows, ordinarily sufficed for the support of the family of each person whomanaged them. But after the Restoration the difficulty of rewarding, within the limits of constitutional government, all the servicesrendered to the cause, led to the custom of giving to reduced women oftitle not only one but two lottery-offices, worth, usually, from sixto ten thousand a year. In such cases, the widow of a general ornobleman thus "protected" did not keep the lottery-office herself; sheemployed a paid manager. When these managers were young men they wereobliged to employ an assistant; for, according to law, the offices hadto be kept open till midnight; moreover, the reports required by theminister of finance involved considerable writing. The Comtesse deBauvan, to whom the Abbe Loraux explained the circumstances of thewidow Bridau, promised, in case her manager should leave, to give theplace to Agathe; meantime she stipulated that the widow should betaken as assistant, and receive a salary of six hundred francs. PoorAgathe, who was obliged to be at the office by ten in the morning, hadscarcely time to get her dinner. She returned to her work at seven inthe evening, remaining there till midnight. Joseph never, for twoyears, failed to fetch his mother at night, and bring her back to therue Mazarin; and often he went to take her to dinner; his friendsfrequently saw him leave the opera or some brilliant salon to bepunctually at midnight at the office in the rue Vivienne. 

Agathe soon acquired the monotonous regularity of life which becomes astay and a support to those who have endured the shock of violentsorrows. In the morning, after doing up her room, in which there wereno longer cats and little birds, she prepared the breakfast at her ownfire 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 ownchamber, and brought her sewing to the studio, where she sat by thelittle iron stove, leaving the room if a comrade or a model enteredit. Though she understood nothing whatever of art, the silence of thestudio suited her. In the matter of art she made not the slightestprogress; she attempted no hypocrisy; she was utterly amazed at theimportance they all attached to color, composition, drawing. When theCenacle friends or some brother-painter, like Schinner, PierreGrassou, Leon de Lora, --a very youthful "rapin" who was called at thattime Mistigris, --discussed a picture, she would come back afterwards, examine it attentively, and discover nothing to justify their finewords and their hot disputes. She made her son's shirts, she mendedhis stockings, she even cleaned his palette, supplied him with rags towipe his brushes, and kept things in order in the studio. Seeing howmuch thought his mother gave to these little details, Joseph heapedattentions upon her in return. If mother and son had no sympathies inthe matter of art, they were at least bound together by signs oftenderness. The mother had a purpose. One morning as she was pettingJoseph while he was sketching a large picture (finished in after yearsand never understood), she said, as it were, casually and aloud, --

"My God! what is he doing?"

"Doing? who?"

"Philippe. "

"Oh, ah! he's sowing his wild oats; that fellow will make something ofhimself by and by. "

"But he has gone through the lesson of poverty; perhaps it was povertywhich changed him to what he is. If he were prosperous he would begood--"

"You think, my dear mother, that he suffered during that journey ofhis. You are mistaken; he kept carnival in New York just as he doeshere--"

"But if he is suffering at this moment, near to us, would it not behorrible?"

"Yes, " replied Joseph. "For my part, I will gladly give him somemoney; but I don't want to see him; he killed our poor Descoings. "

"So, " resumed Agathe, "you would not be willing to paint hisportrait?"

"For you, dear mother, I'd suffer martyrdom. I can make myselfremember nothing except that he is my brother. "

"His portrait as a captain of dragoons on horseback?"

"Yes, I've a copy of a fine horse by Gros and I haven't any use forit. "

"Well, then, go and see that friend of his and find out what hasbecome of him. "

"I'll go!"

Agathe rose; her scissors and work fell at her feet; she went andkissed Joseph's head, and dropped two tears on his hair. 

"He is your passion, that fellow, " said the painter. "We all have ourhopeless passions. "

That afternoon, about four o'clock, Joseph went to the rue du Sentierand found his brother, who had taken Giroudeau's place. The olddragoon had been promoted to be cashier of a weekly journalestablished by his nephew. Although Finot was still proprietor of theother newspaper, which he had divided into shares, holding all theshares himself, the proprietor and editor "de visu" was one of hisfriends, named Lousteau, the son of that very sub-delegate of Issoudunon whom the Bridaus' grandfather, Doctor Rouget, had vowed vengeance;consequently he was the nephew of Madame Hochon. To make himselfagreeable to his uncle, Finot gave Philippe the place Giroudeau wasquitting; cutting off, however, half the salary. Moreover, daily, atfive o'clock, Giroudeau audited the accounts and carried away thereceipts. Coloquinte, the old veteran, who was the office boy and diderrands, also kept an eye on the slippery Philippe; who was, however, behaving properly. A salary of six hundred francs, and the fivehundred of his cross sufficed him to live, all the more because, living in a warm office all day and at the theatre on a free passevery evening, he had only to provide himself with food and a place tosleep in. Coloquinte was departing with the stamped papers on hishead, and Philippe was brushing his false sleeves of green linen, whenJoseph entered. 

"Bless me, here's the cub!" cried Philippe. "Well, we'll go and dinetogether. You shall go to the opera; Florine and Florentine have got abox. I'm going with Giroudeau; you shall be of the party, and I'llintroduce you to Nathan. "

He took his leaded cane, and moistened a cigar. 

"I can't accept your invitation; I am to take our mother to dine at atable d'hote. "

"Ah! how is she, the poor, dear woman?"

"She is pretty well, " answered the painter, "I have just repainted ourfather's portrait, and aunt Descoings's. I have also painted my own, and I should like to give our mother yours, in the uniform of thedragoons of the Imperial Guard. "

"Very good. "

"You will have to come and sit. "

"I'm obliged to be in this hen-coop from nine o'clock till five. "

"Two Sundays will be enough. "

"So be it, little man, " said Napoleon's staff officer, lighting hiscigar at the porter's lamp. 

When Joseph related Philippe's position to his mother, on their way todinner in the rue de Beaune, he felt her arm tremble in his, and joylighted up her worn face; the poor soul breathed like one relieved ofa heavy weight. The next day, inspired by joy and gratitude, she paidJoseph a number of little attentions; she decorated his studio withflowers, and bought him two stands of plants. On the first Sunday whenPhilippe was to sit, Agathe arranged a charming breakfast in thestudio. She laid it all out on the table; not forgetting a flask ofbrandy, which, however, was only half full. She herself stayed behinda screen, in which she made a little hole. The ex-dragoon sent hisuniform the night before, and she had not refrained from kissing it. When Philippe was placed, in full dress, on one of those straw horses, all saddled, which Joseph had hired for the occasion, Agathe, fearingto betray her presence, mingled the soft sound of her tears with theconversation of the two brothers. Philippe posed for two hours beforeand two hours after breakfast. At three o'clock in the afternoon, heput on his ordinary clothes and, as he lighted a cigar, he proposed tohis brother to go and dine together in the Palais-Royal, jingling goldin his pocket as he spoke. 

"No, " said Joseph, "it frightens me to see gold about you. "

"Ah! you'll always have a bad opinion of me in this house, " cried thecolonel in a thundering voice. "Can't I save my money, too?"

"Yes, yes!" cried Agathe, coming out of her hiding-place, and kissingher son. "Let us go and dine with him, Joseph!"

Joseph dared not scold his mother. He went and dressed himself; andPhilippe took them to the Rocher de Cancale, where he gave them asplendid dinner, the bill for which amounted to a hundred francs. 

"The devil!" muttered Joseph uneasily; "with an income of elevenhundred francs you manage, like Ponchard in the 'Dame Blance, ' to saveenough to buy estates. "

"Bah, I'm on a run of luck, " answered the dragoon, who had drunkenormously. 

Hearing this speech just as they were on the steps of the cafe, andbefore they got into the carriage to go to the theatre, --for Philippewas to take his mother to the Cirque-Olympique (the only theatre herconfessor allowed her to visit), --Joseph pinched his mother's arm. Sheat once pretended to feel unwell, and refused to go the theatre;Philippe accordingly took them back to the rue Mazarin, where, as soonas she was alone with Joseph in her garret, Agathe fell into a gloomysilence. 

The following Sunday Philippe came again. This time his mother wasvisibly present at the sitting. She served the breakfast, and putseveral questions to the dragoon. She then learned that the nephew ofold Madame Hochon, the friend of her mother, played a considerablepart in literature. Philippe and his friend Giroudeau lived among acircle of journalists, actresses, and booksellers, where they wereregarded in the light of cashiers. Philippe, who had been drinkingkirsch before posing, was loquacious. He boasted that he was about tobecome a great man. But when Joseph asked a question as to hispecuniary resources he was dumb. It so happened that there was nonewspaper on the following day, it being a fete, and to finish thepicture Philippe proposed to sit again on the morrow. Joseph told himthat the Salon was close at hand, and as he did not have the money tobuy two frames for the pictures he wished to exhibit, he was forced toprocure it by finishing a copy of a Rubens which had been ordered byElie Magus, the picture-dealer. The original belonged to a wealthySwiss banker, who had only lent it for ten days, and the next day wasthe last; the sitting must therefore be put off till the followingSunday. 

"Is that it?" asked Philippe, pointing to a picture by Rubens on aneasel. 

"Yes, " replied Joseph; "it is worth twenty thousand francs. That'swhat genius can do. It will take me all to-morrow to get the tones ofthe original and make the copy look so old it can't be distinguishedfrom it. "

"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 itwhen 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, inplace of the original, and put the original on his easel. PierreGrassou was completely taken in; and then amazed and delighted atJoseph'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 Desroches, who had lately lost herhusband, and Joseph proposed to Pierre Grassou to dine at his tabled'hote. As he went out he left the key of his studio with theconcierge. 

An hour later Philippe appeared and said to the concierge, --

"I am to sit this evening; Joseph will be in soon, and I will wait forhim in the studio. "

The woman gave him the key; Philippe went upstairs, took the copy, thinking it was the original, and went down again; returned the key tothe concierge with the excuse that he had forgotten something, andhurried off to sell his Rubens for three thousand francs. He had takenthe precaution to convey 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 MadameDesroches's, the concierge told him of Philippe's freak, --how he hadcalled intending to wait, and gone away again immediately. 

"I am ruined--unless he has had the delicacy to take the copy, " criedthe painter, instantly suspecting the theft. He ran rapidly up thethree flights and rushed into his studio. "God be praised!" heejaculated. "He is, what he always has been, a vile scoundrel. "

Agathe, who had followed Joseph, did not understand what he wassaying; but when her son explained what had happened, she stood still, with the tears in her eyes. 

"Have I but one son?" she said in a broken voice. 

"We have never yet degraded him to the eyes of strangers, " saidJoseph; "but we must now warn the concierge. In future we shall haveto keep the keys ourselves. I'll finish his blackguard face frommemory; 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 brotherthrough the loss of the Rubens; but nothing restrained him. After thislast crime Agathe never mentioned him; her face acquired an expressionof cold and concentrated and bitter despair; one thought tookpossession of her mind. 

"Some day, " she said to herself, "we shall hear of a Bridau in thepolice courts. "

Two months later, as Agathe was about to start for her office, an oldofficer, who announced himself as a friend of Philippe on urgentbusiness, called on Madame Bridau, who happened to be in Joseph'sstudio. 

When Giroudeau gave his name, mother and son trembled, and none theless because the ex-dragoon had the face of a tough old sailor of theworst type. His fishy gray eyes, his piebald moustache, the remains ofhis shaggy hair fringing a skull that was the color of fresh butter, all gave an indescribably debauched and libidinous expression to hisappearance. He wore an old iron-gray overcoat decorated with the redribbon of an officer of the Legion of honor, which met with difficultyover a gastronomic stomach in keeping with a mouth that stretched fromear to ear, and a pair of powerful shoulders. The torso was supportedby a spindling pair of legs, while the rubicund tints on thecheek-bones bore testimony to a rollicking life. The lower part of thecheeks, which were deeply wrinkled, overhung a coat-collar of velvetthe worse for wear. Among other adornments, the ex-dragoon woreenormous gold rings in his ears. 

"What a 'noceur'!" thought Joseph, using a popular expression, meaninga "loose fish, " which had lately passed into the ateliers. 

"Madame, " said Finot's uncle and cashier, "your son is in sounfortunate a position that his friends find it absolutely necessaryto ask you to share the somewhat heavy expense which he is to them. Hecan no longer do his work at the office; and Mademoiselle Florentine, of the Porte-Saint-Martin, has taken him to lodge with her, in amiserable attic in the rue de Vendome. Philippe is dying; and if youand his brother are not able to pay for the doctor and medicines, weshall be obliged, for the sake of curing him, to have him taken to thehospital of the Capuchins. For three hundred francs we would keep himwhere he is. But he must have a nurse; for at night, when MademoiselleFlorentine is at the theatre, he persists in going out, and takesthings that are irritating and injurious to his malady and itstreatment. As we are fond of him, this makes us really very unhappy. The poor fellow has pledged the pension of his cross for the nextthree years; he is temporarily displaced from his office, and he hasliterally nothing. He will kill himself, madame, unless we can put himinto the private asylum of Doctor Dubois. It is a decent hospital, where they will take him for ten francs a day. Florentine and I willpay half, if you will pay the rest; it won't be for more than twomonths. "

"Monsieur, it is difficult for a mother not to be eternally gratefulto you for your kindness to her son, " replied Agathe; "but this son isbanished from my heart, and as for money, I have none. Not to be aburden on my son whom you see here, who works day and night anddeserves all the love his mother can give him, I am the assistant in alottery-office--at my age!"

"And you, young man, " said the old dragoon to Joseph; "can't you do asmuch for your brother as a poor dancer at the Porte-Saint-Martin andan old soldier?"

"Look here!" said Joseph, out of patience; "do you want me to tell youin artist language what I think of your visit? Well, you have come toswindle us on false pretences. "

"To-morrow your brother shall go to the hospital. "

"And he will do very well there, " answered Joseph. "If I were in likecase, I should go there too. "

Giroudeau withdrew, much disappointed, and also really mortified atbeing obliged to send to a hospital a man who had carried theEmperor's orders at the battle of Montereau. Three months later, atthe end of July, as Agathe one morning was crossing the Pont Neuf toavoid paying a sou at the Pont des Arts, she saw, coming along by theshops of the Quai de l'Ecole, a man bearing all the signs ofsecond-class poverty, who, she thought, resembled Philippe. In Paris, there are three distinct classes of poverty. First, the poverty of theman who preserves appearances, and to whom a future still belongs; thisis the poverty of young men, artists, men of the world, momentarilyunfortunate. The outward signs of their distress are not visible, except under the microscope of a close observer. These persons are theequestrian order of poverty; they continue to drive about incabriolets. In the second order we find old men who have becomeindifferent to everything, and, in June, put the cross of the Legionof honor on alpaca overcoats; that is the poverty of small incomes, --of old clerks, who live at Sainte-Perine and care no longer abouttheir outward man. Then comes, in the third place, poverty in rags, the poverty of the people, the poverty that is poetic; which Callot, Hogarth, Murillo, Charlet, Raffet, Gavarni, Meissonier, Art itselfadores and cultivates, especially during the carnival. The man in whompoor Agathe thought she recognized her son was astride the last twoclasses of poverty. She saw the ragged neck-cloth, the scurfy hat, thebroken and patched boots, the threadbare coat, whose buttons had shedtheir mould, leaving the empty shrivelled pod dangling in congruitywith the torn pockets and the dirty collar. Scraps of flue were in thecreases of the coat, which showed plainly the dust that filled it. Theman drew from the pockets of his seam-rent iron-gray trousers a pairof hands as black as those of a mechanic. A knitted woollen waistcoat, discolored by use, showed below the sleeves of his coat, and above thetrousers, and no doubt served instead of a shirt. Philippe wore agreen silk shade with a wire edge over his eyes; his head, which wasnearly bald, the tints of his skin, and his sunken face too plainlyrevealed that he was just leaving the terrible Hopital du Midi. Hisblue overcoat, whitened at the seams, was still decorated with theribbon of his cross; and the passers-by looked at the hero, doubtlesssome victim of the government, with curiosity and commiseration; therosette attracted notice, and the fiercest "ultra" was jealous for thehonor of the Legion. In those days, however much the governmentendeavored to bring the Order into disrepute by bestowing its crossright and left, there were not fifty-three thousand persons decorated. 

Agathe trembled through her whole being. If it were impossible to lovethis son any longer, she could still suffer for him. Quivering withthis last expression of motherhood, she wept as she saw the brilliantstaff officer of the Emperor turn to enter tobacconist's and pause onthe threshold; he had felt in his pocket and found nothing. Agatheleft the bridge, crossed the quai rapidly, took out her purse, thrustit into Philippe's hand, and fled away as if she had committed acrime. After that, she ate nothing for two days; before her was thehorrible vision of her son dying of hunger in the streets of Paris. 

"When he has spent all the money in my purse, who will give him any?"she thought. "Giroudeau did not deceive us; Philippe is just out ofthat hospital. "

She no longer saw the assassin of her poor aunt, the scourge of thefamily, the domestic thief, the gambler, the drunkard, the low liverof a bad life; she saw only the man recovering from illness, yetdoomed to die of starvation, the smoker deprived of his tobacco. Atforty-seven years of age she grew to look like a woman of seventy. Hereyes were dimmed with tears and prayers. Yet it was not the last griefthis son was to bring upon her; her worst apprehensions were destinedto be realized. A conspiracy of officers was discovered at the heartof the army, and articles from the "Moniteur" giving details of thearrests 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 Bridau. She fainted, and themanager, understanding her trouble and the necessity of taking certainsteps, 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 youngerDesroches, --who by this time had the reputation of being one of thekeenest and most astute lawyers in Paris, and who, moreover, didsundry services for personages of distinction, among others for desLupeaulx, then secretary of a ministry, --Giroudeau called upon thewidow. This time, Agathe believed him. 

"Madame, " he said, "if you can produce twelve thousand francs your sonwill be set at liberty for want of proof. It is necessary to buy thesilence of two witnesses. "

"I will get the money, " said the poor mother, without knowing how orwhere. 

Inspired by this danger, she wrote to her godmother, old MadameHochon, begging her to ask Jean-Jacques Rouget to send her the twelvethousand francs and save his nephew Philippe. If Rouget refused, sheentreated Madame Hochon to lend them to her, promising to return themin two years. By return of courier, she received the followingletter:--

 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 thousand francs, he will not give one penny to nephews whom he has never seen. As for me, you know I cannot dispose of a farthing 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 signature, 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 me, or you seem never to understand my meaning. So to-day I 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 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 impossible. 

 I hope your Philippe will get out of his trouble; and I 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 Monsieur Hochon. So it is a pressing matter. People are talking 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 newspapers and is intimate, they tell me, with your son Philippe, been to pay his respects to you? But come at once to Issoudun, and we will talk over things. 

This letter made a great impression on Agathe, who showed it, ofcourse, to Joseph, to whom she had been forced to mention Giroudeau'sproposal. The artist, who grew wary when it concerned his brother, pointed out to her that she ought to tell everything to Desroches. 

Conscious of the wisdom of that advice, Agathe went with her son thenext morning, at six o'clock, to find Desroches at his house in therue de Bussy. The lawyer, as cold and stern as his late father, with asharp voice, a rough skin, implacable eyes, and the visage of a fox ashe licks his lips of the blood of chickens, bounded like a tiger whenhe heard of Giroudeau's visit and proposal. 

"And pray, mere Bridau, " he cried, in his little cracked voice, "howlong are you going to be duped by your cursed brigand of a son? Don'tgive him a farthing. Make yourself easy, I'll answer for Philippe. Ishould like to see him brought before the Court of Peers; it mightsave his future. You are afraid he will be condemned; but I say, mayit please God his lawyer lets him be convicted. Go to Issoudun, securethe property for your children. If you don't succeed, if your brotherhas made a will in favor of that woman, and you can't make him revokeit, --well then, at least get all the evidence you can of undueinfluence, and I'll institute proceedings for you. But you are toohonest a woman to know how to get at the bottom facts of such amatter. I'll go myself to Issoudun in the holidays, --if I can. "

That "go myself" made Joseph tremble in his skin. Desroches winked athim to let his mother go downstairs first, and then the lawyerdetained the young man for a single moment. 

"Your brother is a great scoundrel; he is the cause of the discoveryof this conspiracy, --intentionally or not, I can't say, for the rascalis so sly no one can find out the exact truth as to that. Fool ortraitor, --take your choice. He will be put under the surveillance ofthe police, nothing more. You needn't be uneasy; no one knows thissecret but myself. Go to Issoudun with your mother. You have goodsense; try to save the property. "

"Come, my poor mother, Desroches is right, " said Joseph, rejoiningAgathe on the staircase. "I have sold my two pictures, let us startfor Berry; you have two weeks' leave of absence. "

After writing to her godmother to announce their arrival, Agathe andJoseph started the next evening for their trip to Issoudun, leavingPhilippe to his fate. The diligence rolled through the rue d'Enfertoward the Orleans highroad. When Agathe saw the Luxembourg, to whichPhilippe 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 herin his arms and pressed her to his heart, exclaiming:--

"Oh, mother! you are a mother just as Raphael was a painter. And youwill always be a fool of a mother!"

Madame Bridau's mind, diverted before long from her griefs by thedistractions of the journey, began to dwell on the purpose of it. Shere-read the letter of Madame Hochon, which had so stirred up thelawyer Desroches. Struck with the words "concubine" and "slut, " whichthe pen of a septuagenarian as pious as she was respectable had usedto designate the woman now in process of getting hold of Jean-JacquesRouget's property, struck also with the word "imbecile" applied toRouget himself, she began to ask herself how, by her presence atIssoudun, she was to save the inheritance. Joseph, poor disinterestedartist that he was, knew little enough about the Code, and hismother's last remark absorbed his mind. 

"Before our friend Desroches sent us off to protect our rights, heought to have explained to us the means of doing so, " he exclaimed. 

"So far as my poor head, which whirls at the thought of Philippe inprison, --without tobacco, perhaps, and about to appear before theCourt of Peers!--leaves me any distinct memory, " returned Agathe, "Ithink 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 canmake nothing of it I'll get him to come himself. "

"Well, don't let us trouble our heads uselessly, " said Agathe. "Whenwe get to Issoudun my godmother will tell us what to do. "

This conversation, which took place just after Madame Bridau andJoseph changed coaches at Orleans and entered the Sologne, issufficient proof of the incapacity of the painter and his mother toplay the part the inexorable Desroches had assigned to them. 

In returning to Issoudun after thirty years' absence, Agathe was aboutto find such changes in its manners and customs that it is necessaryto sketch, in a few words, a picture of that town. Without it, thereader would scarcely understand the heroism displayed by MadameHochon in assisting her goddaughter, or the strange situation ofJean-Jacques Rouget. Though Doctor Rouget had taught his son toregard Agathe in the light of a stranger, it was certainly a somewhatextraordinary thing that for thirty years a brother should have givenno signs of life to a sister. Such a silence was evidently caused bypeculiar circumstances, and any other sister and nephew than Agatheand Joseph would long ago have inquired into them. There is, moreover, a certain connection between the condition of the city of Issoudun andthe interests of the Bridau family, which can only be seen as thestory goes on. 

 CHAPTER VII

Issoudun, be it said without offence to Paris, is one of the oldestcities in France. In spite of the historical assumption which makesthe emperor Probus the Noah of the Gauls, Caesar speaks of theexcellent wine of Champ-Fort ("de Campo Forti") still one of the bestvintages of Issoudun. Rigord writes of this city in language whichleaves no doubt as to its great population and its immense commerce. But these testimonies both assign a much lesser age to the city thanits ancient antiquity demands. In fact, the excavations latelyundertaken by a learned archaeologist of the place, Monsieur ArmandPeremet, have brought to light, under the celebrated tower ofIssoudun, a basilica of the fifth century, probably the only one inFrance. This church preserves, in its very materials, the sign-manualof an anterior civilization; for its stones came from a Roman templewhich 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 anautochthonous existence. The word "Dun, " the appanage of all dignityconsecrated by Druidical worship, proves a religious and militarysettlement of the Celts. Beneath the Dun of the Gauls must have lainthe Roman temple to Isis. From that comes, according to Chaumon, thename of the city, Issous-Dun, --"Is" being the abbreviation of "Isis. "Richard Coeur-de-lion undoubtedly built the famous tower (in which hecoined money) above the basilica of the fifth century, --the thirdmonument of the third religion of this ancient town. He used thechurch as a necessary foundation, or stay, for the raising of therampart; and he preserved it by covering it with feudal fortificationsas with a mantle. Issoudun was at that time the seat of the ephemeralpower of the Routiers and the Cottereaux, adventurers and free-lancers, whom Henry II. Sent against his son Richard, at the time of hisrebellion as Comte de Poitou. 

The history of Aquitaine, which was not written by the Benedictines, will probably never be written, because there are no longerBenedictines: thus we are not able to light up these archaeologicaltenebrae in the history of our manners and customs on every occasionof their appearance. There is another testimony to the ancientimportance of Issoudun in the conversion into a canal of theTournemine, a little stream raised several feet above the level of theTheols which surrounds the town. This is undoubtedly the work of Romangenius. Moreover, the suburb which extends from the castle in anortherly direction is intersected by a street which for more than twothousand years has borne the name of the rue de Rome; and theinhabitants of this suburb, whose racial characteristics, blood, andphysiognomy have a special stamp of their own, call themselvesdescendants of the Romans. They are nearly all vine-growers, anddisplay a remarkable inflexibility of manners and customs, due, undoubtedly, to their origin, --perhaps also to their victory over theCottereaux and the Routiers, whom they exterminated on the plain ofCharost in the twelfth century. 

After the insurrection of 1830, France was too agitated to pay muchattention to the rising of the vine-growers of Issoudun; a terribleaffair, the facts of which have never been made public, --for goodreasons. In the first place, the bourgeois of Issoudun refused toallow the military to enter the town. They followed the use and wontof the bourgeoisie of the Middle Ages and declared themselvesresponsible for their own city. The government was obliged to yield toa sturdy people backed up by seven or eight thousand vine-growers, whohad burned all the archives, also the offices of "indirect taxation, "and had dragged through the streets a customs officer, crying out atevery street lantern, "Let us hang him here!" The poor man's life wassaved by the national guard, who took him to prison on pretext ofdrawing up his indictment. The general in command only entered thetown by virtue of a compromise made with the vine-growers; and itneeded some courage to go among them. At the moment when he showedhimself 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 fastenedto a pole, with which they trim trees) crying out, "No more clerks, orthere's an end to compromise!" The fellow would have taken off thathonored head, left untouched by sixteen years of war, had it not beenfor the hasty intervention of one of the leaders of the revolt, towhom a promise had been made that _the chambers should be asked tosuppress the excisemen_. 

In the fourteenth century, Issoudun still had sixteen or seventeenthousand inhabitants, remains of a population double that number inthe time of Rigord. Charles VII. Possessed a mansion which stillexists, and was known, as late as the eighteenth century, as theMaison du Roi. This town, then a centre of the woollen trade, suppliedthat commodity to the greater part of Europe, and manufactured on alarge 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 thelanguage was correctly spoken. The curate Poupard, in his History ofSancerre, mentions the inhabitants of Issoudun as remarkable among theother Berrichons for subtlety and natural wit. To-day, the wit and thesplendor have alike disappeared. Issoudun, whose great extent ofground bears witness to its ancient importance, has now barely twelvethousand inhabitants, including the vine-dressers of four enormoussuburbs, --those of Saint-Paterne, Vilatte, Rome, and Alouette, whichare really small towns. The bourgeoisie, like that of Versailles, arespread over the length and breadth of the streets. Issoudun stillholds the market for the fleeces of Berry; a commerce now threatenedby improvements in the stock which are being introduced everywhereexcept in Berry. 

The vineyards of Issoudun produce a wine which is drunk throughout thetwo departments, and which, if manufactured as Burgundy and Gasconymanufacture theirs, would be one of the best wines in France. Alas, "to do as our fathers did, " with no innovations, is the law of theland. Accordingly, the vine-growers continue to leave the refuse ofthe grape in the juice during its fermentation, which makes the winedetestable, when it might be a source of ever-springing wealth, and anindustry for the community. Thanks to the bitterness which the refuseinfuses into the wine, and which, they say, lessens with age, avintage will keep a century. This reason, given by the vine-grower inexcuse for his obstinacy, is of sufficient importance to oenology tobe made public here; Guillaume le Breton has also proclaimed it insome lines of his "Phillippide. "

The decline of Issoudun is explained by this spirit of sluggishness, sunken to actual torpor, which a single fact will illustrate. When theauthorities were talking of a highroad between Paris and Toulouse, itwas natural to think of taking it from Vierzon to Chateauroux by wayof Issoudun. The distance was shorter than to make it, as the road nowis, through Vatan, but the leading people of the neighborhood and thecity council of Issoudun (whose discussion of the matter is said to berecorded), demanded that it should go by Vatan, on the ground that ifthe highroad went through their town, provisions would rise in priceand they might be forced to pay thirty sous for a chicken. The onlyanalogy to be found for this proceeding is in the wilder parts ofSardinia, a land once so rich and populous, now so deserted. WhenCharles Albert, with a praiseworthy intention of civilization, wishedto unite Sassari, the second capital of the island, with Cagliari by amagnificent highway (the only one ever made in that wild waste by nameSardinia), the direct line lay through Bornova, a district inhabitedby lawless people, all the more like our Arab tribes because they aredescended from the Moors. Seeing that they were about to fall into theclutches of civilization, the savages of Bornova, without taking thetrouble to discuss the matter, declared their opposition to the road. The government took no notice of it. The first engineer who came tosurvey it, got a ball through his head, and died on his level. Noaction was taken on this murder, but the road made a circuit whichlengthened it by eight miles!

The continual lowering of the price of wines drunk in theneighborhood, though it may satisfy the desire of the bourgeoisie ofIssoudun for cheap provisions, is leading the way to the ruin of thevine-growers, who are more and more burdened with the costs ofcultivation and the taxes; just as the ruin of the woollen trade isthe result of the non-improvement in the breeding of sheep. Country-folk have the deepest horror of change; even that which ismost conducive to their interests. In the country, a Parisian meetsa laborer who eats an enormous quantity of bread, cheese, andvegetables; he proves to him that if he would substitute for that dieta certain portion of meat, he would be better fed, at less cost; thathe could work more, and would not use up his capital of health andstrength so quickly. The Berrichon sees the correctness of thecalculation, but he answers, "Think of the gossip, monsieur. " "Gossip, what do you mean?" "Well, yes, what would people say of me?" "He wouldbe the talk of the neighborhood, " said the owner of the property onwhich this scene took place; "they would think him as rich as atradesman. He is afraid of public opinion, afraid of being pointed at, afraid of seeming ill or feeble. That's how we all are in thisregion. " Many of the bourgeoisie utter this phrase with feelings ofinward pride. 

While ignorance and custom are invincible in the country regions, where the peasants are left very much to themselves, the town ofIssoudun itself has reached a state of complete social stagnation. Obliged to meet the decadence of fortunes by the practice of sordideconomy, each family lives to itself. Moreover, society is permanentlydeprived of that distinction of classes which gives character tomanners and customs. There is no opposition of social forces, such asthat to which the cities of the Italian States in the Middle Ages owedtheir vitality. There are no longer any nobles in Issoudun. TheCottereaux, the Routiers, the Jacquerie, the religious wars and theRevolution did away with the nobility. The town is proud of thattriumph. Issoudun has repeatedly refused to receive a garrison, alwayson the plea of cheap provisions. She has thus lost a means ofintercourse with the age, and she has also lost the profits arisingfrom the presence of troops. Before 1756, Issoudun was one of the mostdelightful of all the garrison towns. A judicial drama, which occupiedfor a time the attention of France, the feud of a lieutenant-generalof the department with the Marquis de Chapt, whose son, an officer ofdragoons, was put to death, --justly perhaps, yet traitorously, forsome affair of gallantry, --deprived the town from that time forth of agarrison. The sojourn of the forty-fourth demi-brigade, imposed uponit during the civil war, was not of a nature to reconcile theinhabitants to the race of warriors. 

Bourges, whose population is yearly decreasing, is a victim of thesame social malady. Vitality is leaving these communities. Undoubtedly, the government is to blame. The duty of an administrationis to discover the wounds upon the body-politic, and remedy them bysending men of energy to the diseased regions, with power to changethe state of things. Alas, so far from that, it approves andencourages this ominous and fatal tranquillity. Besides, it may beasked, how could the government send new administrators and ablemagistrates? Who, of such men, is willing to bury himself in thearrondissements, where the good to be done is without glory? If, bychance, some ambitious stranger settles there, he soon falls into theinertia of the region, and tunes himself to the dreadful key ofprovincial life. Issoudun would have benumbed Napoleon. 

As a result of this particular characteristic, the arrondissement ofIssoudun was governed, in 1822, by men who all belonged to Berry. Theadministration of power became either a nullity or a farce, --except incertain cases, naturally very rare, which by their manifest importancecompelled the authorities to act. The procureur du roi, MonsieurMouilleron, was cousin to the entire community, and his substitutebelonged to one of the families of the town. The judge of the court, before attaining that dignity, was made famous by one of thoseprovincial sayings which put a cap and bells on a man's head for therest of his life. As he ended his summing-up of all the facts of anindictment, he looked at the accused and said: "My poor Pierre! thething is as plain as day; your head will be cut off. Let this be alesson to you. " The commissary of police, holding office since theRestoration, had relations throughout the arrondissement. Moreover, not only was the influence of religion null, but the curate himselfwas held in no esteem. 

It was this bourgeoisie, radical, ignorant, and loving to annoyothers, which now related tales, more or less comic, about therelations of Jean-Jacques Rouget with his servant-woman. The childrenof these people went none the less to Sunday-school, and were asscrupulously prepared for their communion: the schools were kept upall the same; mass was said; the taxes were paid (the sole thing thatParis extracts of the provinces), and the mayor passed resolutions. But all these acts of social existence were done as mere routine, andthus the laxity of the local government suited admirably with themoral and intellectual condition of the governed. The events of thefollowing history will show the effects of this state of things, whichis not as unusual in the provinces as might be supposed. Many towns inFrance, more particularly in the South, are like Issoudun. Thecondition to which the ascendency of the bourgeoisie has reduced thatlocal capital is one which will spread over all France, and even toParis, if the bourgeois continues to rule the exterior and interiorpolicy of our country. 

Now, one word of topography. Issoudun stretches north and south, alonga hillside which rounds towards the highroad to Chateauroux. At thefoot of the hill, a canal, now called the "Riviere forcee" whosewaters are taken from the Theols, was constructed in former times, when the town was flourishing, for the use of manufactories or toflood the moats of the rampart. The "Riviere forcee" forms anartificial arm of a natural river, the Tournemine, which unites withseveral other streams beyond the suburb of Rome. These little threadsof running water and the two rivers irrigate a tract of wide-spreadingmeadow-land, enclosed on all sides by little yellowish or whiteterraces dotted with black speckles; for such is the aspect of thevineyards of Issoudun during seven months of the year. Thevine-growers cut the plants down yearly, leaving only an ugly stump, without support, sheltered by a barrel. The traveller arriving fromVierzon, Vatan, or Chateauroux, his eyes weary with monotonous plains, is agreeably surprised by the meadows of Issoudun, --the oasis of thispart of Berry, which supplies the inhabitants with vegetablesthroughout a region of thirty miles in circumference. Below the suburbof Rome, lies a vast tract entirely covered with kitchen-gardens, anddivided into two sections, which bear the name of upper and lowerBaltan. A long avenue of poplars leads from the town across themeadows to an ancient convent named Frapesle, whose English gardens, quite unique in that arrondissement, have received the ambitious nameof Tivoli. Loving couples whisper their vows in its alleys of aSunday. 

Traces of the ancient grandeur of Issoudun of course reveal themselvesto the eyes of a careful observer; and the most suggestive are thedivisions of the town. The chateau, formerly almost a town itself withits walls and moats, is a distinct quarter which can only be entered, even at the present day, through its ancient gateways, --by means ofthree bridges thrown across the arms of the two rivers, --and has allthe appearance of an ancient city. The ramparts show, in places, theformidable strata of their foundations, on which houses have nowsprung up. Above the chateau, is the famous tower of Issoudun, oncethe citadel. The conqueror of the city, which lay around these twofortified points, had still to gain possession of the tower and thecastle; and possession of the castle did not insure that of the tower, or citadel. 

The suburb of Saint-Paterne, which lies in the shape of a palettebeyond the tower, encroaching on the meadow-lands, is so considerablethat in the very earliest ages it must have been part of the cityitself. This opinion derived, in 1822, a sort of certainty from thethen existence of the charming church of Saint-Paterne, recentlypulled down by the heir of the individual who bought it of the nation. This church, one of the finest specimens of the Romanesque that Francepossessed, actually perished without a single drawing being made ofthe portal, which was in perfect preservation. The only voice raisedto save this monument of a past art found no echo, either in the townitself or in the department. Though the castle of Issoudun has theappearance of an old town, with its narrow streets and its ancientmansions, the city itself, properly so called, which was captured andburned at different epochs, notably during the Fronde, when it waslaid in ashes, has a modern air. Streets that are spacious incomparison with those of other towns, and well-built houses form astriking contrast to the aspect of the citadel, --a contrast that haswon for Issoudun, in certain geographies, the epithet of "pretty. "

In a town thus constituted, without the least activity, even businessactivity, without a taste for art, or for learned occupations, andwhere everybody stayed in the little round of his or her own home, itwas likely to happen, and did happen under the Restoration in 1816when the war was over, that many of the young men of the place had nocareer before them, and knew not where to turn for occupation untilthey could marry or inherit the property of their fathers. Bored intheir own homes, these young fellows found little or no distractionelsewhere in the city; and as, in the language of that region, "youthmust shed its cuticle" they sowed their wild oats at the expense ofthe town itself. It was difficult to carry on such operations in openday, lest the perpetrators should be recognized; for the cup of theirmisdemeanors once filled, they were liable to be arraigned at theirnext peccadillo before the police courts; and they thereforejudiciously selected the night time for the performance of theirmischievous pranks. Thus it was that among the traces of divers lostcivilizations, a vestige of the spirit of drollery that characterizedthe manners of antiquity burst into a final flame. 

The young men amused themselves very much as Charles IX. Amusedhimself with his courtiers, or Henry V. Of England and his companions, or as in former times young men were wont to amuse themselves in theprovinces. Having once banded together for purposes of mutual help, todefend each other and invent amusing tricks, there presently developedamong them, through the clash of ideas, that spirit of maliciousmischief which belongs to the period of youth and may even be observedamong animals. The confederation, in itself, gave them the mimicdelights of the mystery of an organized conspiracy. They calledthemselves the "Knights of Idleness. " During the day these youngscamps were youthful saints; they all pretended to extreme quietness;and, in fact, they habitually slept late after the nights on whichthey had been playing their malicious pranks. The "Knights" began withmere commonplace tricks, such as unhooking and changing signs, ringingbells, flinging casks left before one house into the cellar of thenext with a crash, rousing the occupants of the house by a noise thatseemed to their frightened ears like the explosion of a mine. InIssoudun, as in many country towns, the cellar is entered by anopening near the door of the house, covered with a wooden scuttle, secured by strong iron hinges and a padlock. 

In 1816, these modern Bad Boys had not altogether given up such tricksas these, perpetrated in the provinces by all young lads and gamins. But in 1817 the Order of Idleness acquired a Grand Master, anddistinguished itself by mischief which, up to 1823, spread somethinglike terror in Issoudun, or at least kept the artisans and thebourgeoisie perpetually uneasy. 

This leader was a certain Maxence Gilet, commonly called Max, whoseantecedents, no less than his youth and his vigor, predestined him forsuch a part. Maxence Gilet was supposed by all Issoudun to be thenatural son of the sub-delegate Lousteau, that brother of MadameHochon whose gallantries had left memories behind them, and who, as wehave seen, drew down upon himself the hatred of old Doctor Rougetabout the time of Agathe's birth. But the friendship which bound thetwo men together before their quarrel was so close that, to use anexpression of that region and that period, "they willingly walked thesame road. " Some people said that Maxence was as likely to be the sonof the doctor as of the sub-delegate; but in fact he belonged toneither the one nor the other, --his father being a charming dragoonofficer in garrison at Bourges. Nevertheless, as a result of theirenmity, and very fortunately for the child, Rouget and Lousteau neverceased to claim his paternity. 

Max's mother, the wife of a poor sabot-maker in the Rome suburb, waspossessed, for the perdition of her soul, of a surprising beauty, aTrasteverine beauty, the only property which she transmitted to herson. Madame Gilet, pregnant with Maxence in 1788, had long desiredthat blessing, which the town attributed to the gallantries of the twofriends, --probably in the hope of setting them against each other. Gilet, an old drunkard with a triple throat, treated his wife'smisconduct with a collusion that is not uncommon among the lowerclasses. To make sure of protectors for her son, Madame Gilet wascareful not to enlighten his reputed fathers as to his parentage. InParis, she would have turned out a millionaire; at Issoudun she livedsometimes at her ease, more often miserably, and, in the long run, despised. Madame Hochon, Lousteau's sister, paid sixty francs a yearfor the lad's schooling. This liberality, which Madame Hochon wasquite unable to practise on her own account because of her husband'sstinginess, was naturally attributed to her brother, then living atSancerre. 

When Doctor Rouget, who certainly was not lucky in sons, observedMax's beauty, he paid the board of the "young rogue, " as he calledhim, at the seminary, up to the year 1805. As Lousteau died in 1800, and the doctor apparently obeyed a feeling of vanity in paying thelad's board until 1805, the question of the paternity was left foreverundecided. 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, andwas moreover gifted with remarkable vigor and agility, got into aseries of scrapes which more or less threatened his safety. He plottedwith the grandsons of Monsieur Hochon to worry the grocers of thecity; he gathered fruit before the owners could pick it, and madenothing of scaling walls. He had no equal at bodily exercises, heplayed base to perfection, and could have outrun a hare. With a keeneye worthy of Leather-stocking, he loved hunting passionately. Histime was passed in firing at a mark, instead of studying; and he spentthe money extracted from the old doctor in buying powder and ball fora wretched pistol that old Gilet, the sabot-maker, had given him. During the autumn of 1806, Maxence, then seventeen, committed aninvoluntary murder, by frightening in the dusk a young woman who waspregnant, and who came upon him suddenly while stealing fruit in hergarden. Threatened with the guillotine by Gilet, who doubtless wantedto get rid of him, Max fled to Bourges, met a regiment then on its wayto Egypt, and enlisted. Nothing came of the death of the young woman. 

A young fellow of Max's character was sure to distinguish himself, andin the course of three campaigns he did distinguish himself so highlythat he rose to be a captain, his lack of education helping himstrenuously. In Portugal, in 1809, he was left for dead in an Englishbattery, into which his company had penetrated without being able tohold it. Max, taken prisoner by the English, was sent to the Spanishhulks at the island of Cabrera, the most horrible of all stations forprisoners of war. His friends begged that he might receive the crossof the Legion of honor and the rank of major; but the Emperor was thenin Austria, and he reserved his favors for those who did brilliantdeeds under his own eye: he did not like officers or men who allowedthemselves to be taken prisoner, and he was, moreover, muchdissatisfied with events in Portugal. Max was held at Cabrera from1810 to 1814. [1] During those years he became utterly demoralized, forthe hulks were like galleys, minus crime and infamy. At the outset, tomaintain his personal free will, and protect himself against thecorruption which made that horrible prison unworthy of a civilizedpeople, the handsome young captain killed in a duel (for duels werefought on those hulks in a space scarcely six feet square) sevenbullies among his fellow-prisoners, thus ridding the island of theirtyranny to the great joy of the other victims. After this, Max reignedsupreme in his hulk, thanks to the wonderful ease and address withwhich he handled weapons, to his bodily strength, and also to hisextreme cleverness. 

 [1] The cruelty of the Spaniards to the French prisoners at Cabrera was very great. In the spring of 1811, H. M. Brig "Minorca, " Captain Wormeley, was sent by Admiral Sir Charles Cotton, then commanding the Mediterranean fleet, to make a report of their condition. As she neared the island, the wretched 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' rations 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. 

But he, in turn, committed arbitrary acts; there were those whocurried favor with him, and worked his will, and became his minions. In that school of misery, where bitter minds dreamed only ofvengeance, where the sophistries hatched in such brains were layingup, inevitably, a store of evil thoughts, Max became utterlydemoralized. He listened to the opinions of those who longed forfortune at any price, and did not shrink from the results of criminalactions, provided they were done without discovery. When peace wasproclaimed, in April, 1814, he left the island, depraved though stillinnocent. On his return to Issoudun he found his father and motherdead. Like others who give way to their passions and make life, asthey call it, short and sweet, the Gilets had died in the almshouse inthe utmost poverty. Immediately after his return, the news ofNapoleon's landing at Cannes spread through France; Max could do nobetter than go to Paris and ask for his rank as major and for hiscross. The marshal who was at that time minister of war remembered thebrave conduct of Captain Gilet in Portugal. He put him in the Guard ascaptain, which gave him the grade of major in the infantry; but hecould not get him the cross. "The Emperor says that you will know howto win it at the first chance, " said the marshal. In fact, the Emperordid put the brave captain on his list for decoration the evening afterthe fight at Fleurus, where Gilet distinguished himself. 

After the battle of Waterloo Max retreated to the Loire. At the timeof the disbandment, Marshal Feltre refused to recognize Max's grade asmajor, or his claim to the cross. The soldier of Napoleon returned toIssoudun in a state of exasperation that may well be conceived; hedeclared that he would not serve without either rank or cross. Thewar-office considered these conditions presumptuous in a young man oftwenty-five without a name, who might, if they were granted, become acolonel at thirty. Max accordingly sent in his resignation. The major--for among themselves Bonapartists recognized the grades obtained in1815--thus lost the pittance called half-pay which was allowed to theofficers of the army of the Loire. But all Issoudun was roused at thesight of the brave young fellow left with only twenty napoleons in hispossession; and the mayor gave him a place in his office with a salaryof six hundred francs. Max kept it a few months, then gave it up ofhis own accord, and was replaced by 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 chiefpeople of the town; who, however, did not openly make the fact knownto him, for he was violent and much feared by all, even by theofficers of the old army who, like himself, had refused to serve underthe Bourbons, and had come home to plant their cabbages in Berry. Thelittle affection felt for the Bourbons among the natives of Issoudunis not surprising when we recall the history which we have just given. In fact, considering its size and lack of importance, the little placecontained more Bonapartists than any other town in France. These menbecame, as is well known, nearly all Liberals. 

In Issoudun and its neighborhood there were a dozen officers in Max'sposition. These men admired him and made him their leader, --with theexception, however, of Carpentier, his successor, and a certainMonsieur Mignonnet, ex-captain in the artillery of the Guard. Carpentier, a cavalry officer risen from the ranks, had married intoone of the best families in the town, --the Borniche-Herau. Mignonnet, brought up at the Ecole Polytechnique, had served in a corps whichheld itself superior to all others. In the Imperial armies there weretwo shades of distinction among the soldiers themselves. A majority ofthem felt a contempt for the bourgeois, the "civilian, " fully equal tothe contempt of nobles for their serfs, or conquerors for theconquered. Such men did not always observe the laws of honor in theirdealings with civilians; nor did they much blame those who roderough-shod over the bourgeoisie. The others, and particularly theartillery, perhaps because of its republicanism, never adopted thedoctrine of a military France and a civil France, the tendency of whichwas nothing less than to make two nations. So, although Major Potel andCaptain Renard, two officers living in the Rome suburb, were friends toMaxence Gilet "through thick and thin, " Major Mignonnet and CaptainCarpentier took sides with the bourgeoisie, and thought his conductunworthy of a man of honor. 

Major Mignonnet, a lean little man, full of dignity, busied himselfwith the problems which the steam-engine requires us to solve, andlived in a modest way, taking his social intercourse with Monsieur andMadame Carpentier. His gentle manners and ways, and his scientificoccupations won him the respect of the whole town; and it wasfrequently said of him and of Captain Carpentier that they were "quiteanother thing" from Major Potel and Captain Renard, Maxence, and otherfrequenters of the cafe Militaire, who retained the soldierly mannersand the defective morals of the Empire. 

At the time when Madame Bridau returned to Issoudun, Max was excludedfrom the society of the place. He showed, moreover, properself-respect in never presenting himself at the club, and in nevercomplaining of the severe reprobation that was shown him; although hewas the handsomest, the most elegant, and the best dressed man in theplace, spent a great deal of money, and kept a horse, --a thing asamazing at Issoudun as the horse of Lord Byron at Venice. We are nowto see how it was that Maxence, poor and without apparent means, wasable to become the dandy of the town. The shameful conduct whichearned him the contempt of all scrupulous or religious persons wasconnected with the interests which brought Agathe and Joseph toIssoudun. 

Judging by the audacity of his bearing, and the expression of hisface, Max cared little for public opinion; he expected, no doubt, totake his revenge some day, and to lord it over those who now condemnedhim. Moreover, if the bourgeoisie of Issoudun thought ill of him, theadmiration he excited among the common people counterbalanced theiropinion; his courage, his dashing appearance, his decision ofcharacter, could not fail to please the masses, to whom hisdegradations were, for the most part, unknown, and indeed thebourgeoisie themselves scarcely suspected its extent. Max played arole at Issoudun which was something like that of the blacksmith inthe "Fair Maid of Perth"; he was the champion of Bonapartism and theOpposition; they counted upon him as the burghers of Perth countedupon Smith on great occasions. A single incident will put this heroand victim of the Hundred-Days into clear relief. 

In 1819, a battalion commanded by royalist officers, young men justout of the Maison Rouge, passed through Issoudun on its way to go intogarrison at Bourges. Not knowing what to do with themselves in soconstitutional a place as Issoudun, these young gentlemen went towhile away the time at the cafe Militaire. In every provincial townthere is a military cafe. That of Issoudun, built on the place d'Armesat an angle of the rampart, and kept by the widow of an officer, wasnaturally the rendezvous of the Bonapartists, chiefly officers onhalf-pay, and others who shared Max's opinions, to whom the politicsof the town allowed free expression of their idolatry for the Emperor. Every year, dating from 1816, a banquet was given in Issoudun tocommemorate the anniversary of his coronation. The three royalists whofirst entered asked for the newspapers, among others, for the"Quotidienne" and the "Drapeau Blanc. " The politics of Issoudun, especially those of the cafe Militaire, did not allow of such royalistjournals. The establishment had none but the "Commerce, "--a name whichthe "Constitutionel" was compelled to adopt for several years after itwas suppressed by the government. But as, in its first issue under thenew name, the leading article began with these words, "Commerce isessentially constitutional, " people continued to call it the"Constitutionel, " the subscribers all understanding the sly play ofwords which begged them to pay no attention to the label, as the winewould be the same. 

The fat landlady replied from her seat at the desk that she did nottake those papers. "What papers do you take then?" asked one of theofficers, a captain. The waiter, a little fellow in a blue clothjacket, with an apron of coarse linen tied over it, brought the"Commerce. "

"Is that your paper? Have you no other?"

"No, " said the waiter, "that's the only one. "

The captain tore it up, flung the pieces on the floor, and spat uponthem, calling out, --

"Bring dominos!"

In ten minutes the news of the insult offered to the ConstitutionOpposition and the Liberal party, in the supersacred person of itsrevered journal, which attacked priests with courage and the wit weall remember, spread throughout the town and into the houses likelight itself; it was told and repeated from place to place. One phrasewas on everybody's lips, --

"Let us tell Max!"

Max soon heard of it. The royalist officers were still at their gameof dominos when that hero entered the cafe, accompanied by Major Poteland Captain Renard, and followed by at least thirty young men, curiousto see the end of the affair, most of whom remained outside in thestreet. The room was soon full. 

"Waiter, _my_ newspaper, " said Max, in a quiet voice. 

Then a little comedy was played. The fat hostess, with a timid andconciliatory air, said, "Captain, I have lent it!"

"Send for it, " cried one of Max's friends. 

"Can't you do without it?" said the waiter; "we have not got it. "

The young royalists were laughing and casting sidelong glances at thenew-comers. 

"They have torn it up!" cried a youth of the town, looking at the feetof the young royalist captain. 

"Who has dared to destroy that paper?" demanded Max, in a thunderingvoice, his eyes flashing as he rose with his arms crossed. 

"And we spat upon it, " replied the three young officers, also rising, and looking at Max. 

"You have insulted the whole town!" said Max, turning livid. 

"Well, what of that?" asked the youngest officer. 

With a dexterity, quickness, and audacity which the young men did notforesee, 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 officersalone. Max killed his man. Major Potel wounded his so severely, thatthe unfortunate young man, the son of a good family, died in thehospital the next day. As for the third, he got off with a sword cut, after wounding his adversary, Captain Renard. The battalion left forBourges that night. This affair, which was noised throughout Berry, set Max up definitely as a hero. 

The Knights of Idleness, who were all young, the eldest not more thantwenty-five years old, admired Maxence. Some among them, far fromsharing the prudery and strict notions of their families concerninghis conduct, envied his present position and thought him fortunate. Under such a leader, the Order did great things. After the month ofMay, 1817, never a week passed that the town was not thrown into anuproar 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 ashawks, agile at all exercises, clever and strong as criminals. Theytrained themselves in climbing roofs, scaling houses, jumping andwalking noiselessly, mixing mortar, and walling up doors. Theycollected an arsenal of ropes, ladders, tools, and disguises. After atime the Knights of Idleness attained to the beau-ideal of maliciousmischief, not only as to the accomplishment but, still more, in theinvention of their pranks. They came at last to possess the genius forevil that Panurge so much delighted in; which provokes laughter, andcovers its victims with such ridicule that they dare not complain. Naturally, these sons of good families of Issoudun possessed andobtained information in their households, which gave them the ways andmeans for the perpetration of their outrages. 

Sometimes the young devils incarnate lay in ambush along the Grand'rueor the Basse rue, two streets which are, as it were, the arteries ofthe town, into which many little side streets open. Crouching, withtheir heads to the wind, in the angles of the wall and at the cornersof the streets, at the hour when all the households were hushed intheir first sleep, they called to each other in tones of terror fromambush to ambush along the whole length of the town: "What's thematter?" "What is it?" till the repeated cries woke up the citizens, who appeared in their shirts and cotton night-caps, with lights intheir hands, asking questions of one another, holding the strangestcolloquies, and exhibiting the queerest faces. 

A certain poor bookbinder, who was very old, believed in hobgoblins. Like most provincial artisans, he worked in a small basement shop. TheKnights, disguised as devils, invaded the place in the middle of thenight, put him into his own cutting-press, and left him shrieking tohimself like the souls in hell. The poor man roused the neighbors, towhom he related the apparitions of Lucifer; and as they had no meansof undeceiving him, he was driven nearly insane. 

In the middle of a severe winter, the Knights took down the chimney ofthe collector of taxes, and built it up again in one night apparentlyas it was before, without making the slightest noise, or leaving theleast trace of their work. But they so arranged the inside of thechimney as to send all the smoke into the house. The collectorsuffered for two months before he found out why his chimney, which hadalways drawn so well, and of which he had often boasted, played himsuch 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 womanwho was a friend of Madame Hochon. In the morning, when she came tolight her fire, the poor creature, who was very gentle and kindly, imagined she had started a volcano. The fire-engines came, the wholepopulation rushed to her assistance. Several Knights were among thefiremen, and they deluged the old woman's house, till they hadfrightened her with a flood, as much as they had terrified her withthe fire. She was made ill with fear. 

When they wished to make some one spend the night under arms and inmortal terror, they wrote an anonymous letter telling him that he wasabout to be robbed; then they stole softly, one by one, round thewalls of his house, or under his windows, whistling as if to call eachother. 

One of their famous performances, which long amused the town, where infact it is still related, was to write a letter to all the heirs of amiserly old lady who was likely to leave a large property, announcingher death, and requesting them to be promptly on hand when the sealswere affixed. Eighty persons arrived from Vatan, Saint-Florent, Vierzon and the neighboring country, all in deep mourning, --widowswith sons, children with their fathers, some in carrioles, some inwicker gigs, others in dilapidated carts. Imagine the scene betweenthe old woman's servants and the first arrivals! and the consultationsamong 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 ofthings was all the more intolerable because it seemed impossible tofind out who was at the bottom of it. Suspicion fell on several youngmen; but as the National Guard was a mere name in Issoudun, and therewas no garrison, and the lieutenant of police had only eight gendarmesunder him, so that there were no patrols, it was impossible to get anyproof against them. The sub-prefect was immediately posted in the"order of the night, " and considered thenceforth fair game. Thisfunctionary made a practice of breakfasting on two fresh eggs. He keptchickens in his yard, and added to his mania for eating fresh eggsthat of boiling them himself. Neither his wife nor his servant, infact no one, according to him, knew how to boil an egg properly; hedid it watch in hand, and boasted that he carried off the palm ofegg-boiling from all the world. For two years he had boiled his eggswith a success which earned him many witticisms. But now, every night fora whole month, the eggs were taken from his hen-house, and hard-boiledeggs substituted. The sub-prefect was at his wits' end, and lost hisreputation as the "sous-prefet a l'oeuf. " Finally he was forced tobreakfast on other things. Yet he never suspected the Knights ofIdleness, whose trick had been cautiously played. After this, Maxmanaged to grease the sub-prefect's stoves every night with an oilwhich sent forth so fetid a smell that it was impossible for any oneto stay in the house. Even that was not enough; his wife, going tomass one morning, found her shawl glued together on the inside withsome tenacious substance, so that she was obliged to go without it. The sub-prefect finally asked for another appointment. The cowardlysubmissiveness of this officer had much to do with firmly establishingthe weird and comic authority of the Knights of Idleness. 

Beyond the rue des Minimes and the place Misere, a section of aquarter was at that time enclosed between an arm of the "Riviereforcee" on the lower side and the ramparts on the other, beginning atthe place d'Armes and going as far as the pottery market. Thisirregular square is filled with poor-looking houses crowded oneagainst the other, and divided here and there by streets so narrowthat two persons cannot walk abreast. This section of the town, a sortof cour des Miracles, was occupied by poor people or persons workingat trades that were little remunerative, --a population living inhovels, and buildings called picturesquely by the familiar term of"blind houses. " From the earliest ages this has no doubt been anaccursed quarter, the haunt of evil-doers; in fact one thoroughfare isnamed "the street of the Executioner. " For more than five centuries ithas been customary for the executioner to have a red door at theentrance of his house. The assistant of the executioner of Chateaurouxstill lives there, --if we are to believe public rumor, for thetownspeople never see him: the vine-dressers alone maintain anintercourse with this mysterious being, who inherits from hispredecessors the gift of curing wounds and fractures. In the days whenIssoudun assumed the airs of a capital city the women of the town madethis section of it the scene of their wanderings. Here came thesecond-hand sellers of things that look as if they never could find apurchaser, old-clothes dealers whose wares infected the air; in short, it was the rendezvous of that apocryphal population which is to befound in nearly all such portions of a city, where two or three Jewshave gained an ascendency. 

At the corner of one of these gloomy streets in the livelier half ofthe quarter, there existed from 1815 to 1823, and perhaps later, apublic-house kept by a woman commonly called Mere Cognette. The houseitself was tolerably well built, in courses of white stone, with theintermediary spaces filled in with ashlar and cement, one storey highwith an attic above. Over the door was an enormous branch of pine, looking as though it were cast in Florentine bronze. As if this symbolwere not explanatory enough, the eye was arrested by the blue of aposter which was pasted over the doorway, and on which appeared, abovethe words "Good Beer of Mars, " the picture of a soldier pouring out, in the direction of a very decolletee woman, a jet of foam whichspurted in an arched line from the pitcher to the glass which she washolding towards him; the whole of a color to make Delacroix swoon. 

The ground-floor was occupied by an immense hall serving both askitchen and dining-room, from the beams of which hung, suspended byhuge nails, the provisions needed for the custom of such a house. Behind this hall a winding staircase led to the upper storey; at thefoot of the staircase a door led into a low, long room lighted fromone of those little provincial courts, so narrow, dark, and sunkenbetween tall houses, as to seem like the flue of a chimney. Hidden bya shed, and concealed from all eyes by walls, this low room was theplace where the Bad Boys of Issoudun held their plenary court. Ostensibly, Pere Cognet boarded and lodged the country-people onmarket-days; secretly, he was landlord to the Knights of Idleness. This man, who was formerly a groom in a rich household, had ended bymarrying La Cognette, a cook in a good family. The suburb of Romestill continues, like Italy and Poland, to follow the Latin custom ofputting a feminine termination to the husband's name and giving it tothe wife. 

By uniting their savings Pere Cognet and his spouse had managed to buytheir present house. La Cognette, a woman of forty, tall and plump, with the nose of a Roxelane, a swarthy skin, jet-black hair, browneyes that were round and lively, and a general air of mirth andintelligence, was selected by Maxence Gilet, on account of hercharacter and her talent for cookery, as the Leonarde of the Order. Pere Cognet might be about fifty-six years old; he was thick-set, verymuch under his wife's rule, and, according to a witticism which shewas fond of repeating, he only saw things with a good eye--for he wasblind of the other. In the course of seven years, that is, from 1816to 1823, neither wife nor husband had betrayed what went on nightly attheir house, or who they were that shared in the plot; they felt theliveliest regard for the Knights; their devotion was absolute. Butthis may seem less creditable if we remember that self-interest wasthe security of their affection and their silence. No matter at whathour of the night the Knights dropped in upon the tavern, the momentthey knocked in a certain way Pere Cognet, recognizing the signal, gotup, lit the fire and the candles, opened the door, and went to thecellar for a particular wine that was laid in expressly for the Order;while La Cognette cooked an excellent supper, eaten either before orafter the expeditions, which were usually planned the previous eveningor in the course of the preceding day. 

 CHAPTER VIII

While Joseph and Madame Bridau were journeying from Orleans toIssoudun, the Knights of Idleness perpetrated one of their besttricks. An old Spaniard, a former prisoner of war, who after the peacehad remained in the neighborhood, where he did a small business ingrain, came early one morning to market, leaving his empty cart at thefoot of the tower of Issoudun. Maxence, who arrived at a rendezvous ofthe Knights, appointed on that occasion at the foot of the tower, wassoon assailed with the whispered question, "What are we to doto-night?"

"Here's Pere Fario's cart, " he answered. "I nearly cracked my shinsover it. Let us get it up on the embankment of the tower in the firstplace, and we'll make up our minds afterwards. "

When Richard Coeur-de-Lion built the tower of Issoudun he raised it, as we have said, on the ruins of the basilica, which itself stoodabove the Roman temple and the Celtic Dun. These ruins, each of whichrepresents a period of several centuries, form a mound big with themonuments of three distinct ages. The tower is, therefore, the apex ofa cone, from which the descent is equally steep on all sides, andwhich is only approached by a series of steps. To give in a few wordsan idea of the height of this tower, we may compare it to the obeliskof Luxor on its pedestal. The pedestal of the tower of Issoudun, whichhid within its breast such archaeological treasures, was eighty feethigh on the side towards the town. In an hour the cart was taken offits wheels and hoisted, piece by piece, to the top of the embankmentat the foot of the tower itself, --a work that was somewhat like thatof the soldiers who carried the artillery over the pass of the GrandSaint-Bernard. The cart was then remounted on its wheels, and theKnights, by this time hungry and thirsty, returned to Mere Cognette's, where they were soon seated round the table in the low room, laughingat the grimaces Fario would make when he came after his barrow in themorning. 

The Knights, naturally, did not play such capers every night. Thegenius of Sganarelle, Mascarille, and Scapin combined would not havesufficed to invent three hundred and sixty-five pieces of mischief ayear. In the first place, circumstances were not always propitious:sometimes the moon shone clear, or the last prank had greatlyirritated their betters; then one or another of their number refusedto share in some proposed outrage because a relation was involved. Butif the scamps were not at Mere Cognette's every night, they always metduring the day, enjoying together the legitimate pleasures of hunting, or the autumn vintages and the winter skating. Among this assemblageof twenty youths, all of them at war with the social somnolence of theplace, there are some who were more closely allied than others to Max, and who made him their idol. A character like his often fascinatesother youths. The two grandsons of Madame Hochon--Francois Hochon andBaruch Borniche--were his henchmen. These young fellows, accepting thegeneral opinion of the left-handed parentage of Lousteau, looked uponMax as their cousin. Max, moreover, was liberal in lending them moneyfor their pleasures, which their grandfather Hochon refused; he tookthem hunting, let them see life, and exercised a much greaterinfluence over them than their own family. They were both orphans, andwere kept, although each had attained his majority, under theguardianship of Monsieur Hochon, for reasons which will be explainedwhen Monsieur Hochon himself comes upon the scene. 

At this particular moment Francois and Baruch (we will call them bytheir Christian names for the sake of clearness) were sitting, one oneach side of Max, at the middle of a table that was rather ill lightedby the fuliginous gleams of four tallow candles of eight to the pound. A dozen to fifteen bottles of various wines had just been drunk, foronly eleven of the Knights were present. Baruch--whose name indicatespretty clearly that Calvinism still kept some hold on Issoudun--saidto Max, as the wine was beginning to unloose all tongues, --

"You are threatened in your stronghold. "

"What do you mean by that?" asked Max. 

"Why, my grandmother has had a letter from Madame Bridau, who is hergoddaughter, saying that she and her son are coming here. Mygrandmother has been getting two rooms ready for them. "

"What's that to me?" said Max, taking up his glass and swallowing thecontents at a gulp with a comic gesture. 

Max was then thirty-four years old. A candle standing near him threw agleam upon his soldierly face, lit up his brow, and brought outadmirably his clear skin, his ardent eyes, his black and slightlycurling hair, which had the brilliancy of jet. The hair grewvigorously upward from the forehead and temples, sharply definingthose five black tongues which our ancestors used to call the "fivepoints. " Notwithstanding this abrupt contrast of black and white, Max's face was very sweet, owing its charm to an outline like thatwhich Raphael gave to the faces of his Madonnas, and to a well-cutmouth whose lips smiled graciously, giving an expression ofcountenance which Max had made distinctively his own. The richcoloring which blooms on a Berrichon cheek added still further to hislook of kindly good-humor. When he laughed heartily, he showedthirty-two teeth worthy of the mouth of a pretty woman. In heightabout five feet six inches, the young man was admirablywell-proportioned, --neither too stout nor yet too thin. His hands, carefully kept, were white and rather handsome; but his feet recalledthe suburb and the foot-soldier of the Empire. Max would certainlyhave made a good general of division; he had shoulders that wereworth a fortune to a marshal of France, and a breast broad enough towear all the orders of Europe. Every movement betrayed intelligence;born with grace and charm, like nearly all the children of love, thenoble blood of his real father came out in him. 

"Don't you know, Max, " cried the son of a former surgeon-major namedGoddet--now the best doctor in the town--from the other end of thetable, "that Madame Hochon's goddaughter is the sister of Rouget? Ifshe is coming here with her son, no doubt she means to make sure ofgetting the property when he dies, and then--good-by to your harvest!"

Max frowned. Then, with a look which ran from one face to another allround the table, he watched the effect of this announcement on theminds of those present, and again replied, --

"What's that to me?"

"But, " said Francois, "I should think that if old Rouget revoked hiswill, --in case he has made one in favor of the Rabouilleuse--"

Here Max cut short his henchman's speech. "I've stopped the mouths ofpeople who have dared to meddle with you, my dear Francois, " he said;"and this is the way you pay your debts? You use a contemptuousnickname 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 theperson to whom Francois had just applied a name under which she wasknown at Issoudun. The late prisoner at Cabrera--the major of thegrenadiers of the Guard--knew enough of what honor was to judgerightly as to the causes of the disesteem in which society held him. He had therefore never allowed any one, no matter who, to speak to himon the subject of Mademoiselle Flore Brazier, the servant-mistress ofJean-Jacques Rouget, so energetically termed a "slut" by therespectable Madame Hochon. Everybody knew it was too ticklish asubject with Max, ever to speak of it unless he began it; and hithertohe had never begun it. To risk his anger or irritate him wasaltogether too dangerous; so that even his best friends had neverjoked him about the Rabouilleuse. When they talked of his liaison withthe girl before Major Potel and Captain Renard, with whom he lived onintimate terms, Potel would reply, --

"If he is the natural brother of Jean-Jacques Rouget where else wouldyou have him live?"

"Besides, after all, " added Captain Renard, "the girl is a worthlesspiece, and if Max does live with her where's the harm?"

After this merited snub, Francois could not at once catch up thethread of his ideas; but he was still less able to do so when Max saidto him, gently, --

"Go on. "

"Faith, no!" cried Francois. 

"You needn't get angry, Max, " said young Goddet; "didn't we agree totalk freely to each other at Mere Cognette's? Shouldn't we all bemortal enemies if we remembered outside what is said, or thought, ordone here? All the town calls Flore Brazier the Rabouilleuse; and ifFrancois did happen to let the nickname slip out, is that a crimeagainst the Order of Idleness?"

"No, " said Max, "but against our personal friendship. However, Ithought better of it; I recollected we were in session, and that waswhy I said, 'Go on. '"

A deep silence followed. The pause became so embarrassing for thewhole company that Max broke it by exclaiming:--

"I'll go on for him, " [sensation] "--for all of you, " [amazement]"--and tell you what you are thinking" [profound sensation]. "Youthink that Flore, the Rabouilleuse, La Brazier, the housekeeper ofPere Rouget, --for they call him so, that old bachelor, who can neverhave any children!--you think, I say, that that woman supplies all mywants ever since I came back to Issoudun. If I am able to throw threehundred francs a month to the dogs, and treat you to suppers, --as I doto-night, --and lend money to all of you, you think I get the gold outof Mademoiselle Flore Brazier's purse? Well, yes" [profoundsensation]. "Yes, ten thousand times yes! Yes, Mademoiselle Brazier isaiming 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 intendto marry Flore when Pere Rouget 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, " saidBaruch. 

"Well, don't be uneasy, friends, " answered Max. "Forewarned isforearmed! Now then, I address the Knights of Idleness. If, to get ridof these Parisians I need the help of the Order, will you lend me ahand? Oh! within the limits we have marked out for our fooleries, " headded hastily, perceiving a general hesitation. "Do you suppose I wantto kill them, --poison them? Thank God I'm not an idiot. Besides, ifthe Bridaus succeed, and Flore has nothing but what she stands in, Ishould be satisfied; do you understand that? I love her enough toprefer her to Mademoiselle Fichet, --if Mademoiselle Fichet would haveme. "

Mademoiselle Fichet was the richest heiress in Issoudun, and the handof the daughter counted for much in the reported passion of theyounger Goddet for the mother. Frankness of speech is a pearl of suchprice that all the Knights rose to their feet as one man. 

"You are a fine fellow, Max!"

"Well said, Max; we'll stand by you!"

"A fig for the Bridaus!"

"We'll bridle them!"

"After all, it is only three swains to a shepherdess. "

"The deuce! Pere Lousteau loved Madame Rouget; isn't it better to lovea housekeeper who is not yoked?"

"If the defunct Rouget was Max's father, the affair is in the family. "

"Liberty of opinion now-a-days!"

"Hurrah for Max!"

"Down with all hypocrites!"

"Here's a health to the beautiful Flore!"

Such were the eleven responses, acclamations, and toasts shouted forthby the Knights of Idleness, and characteristic, we may remark, oftheir excessively relaxed morality. It is now easy to see whatinterest Max had in becoming their grand master. By leading the youngmen of the best families in their follies and amusements, and by doingthem services, he meant to create a support for himself when the dayfor recovering his position came. He rose gracefully and waved hisglass of claret, while all the others waited eagerly for the comingallocution. 

"As a mark of the ill-will I bear you, I wish you all a mistress whois equal to the beautiful Flore! As to this irruption of relations, Idon't feel any present uneasiness; and as to the future, we'll seewhat comes--"

"Don't let us forget Fario's cart!"

"Hang it! that's safe enough!" said Goddet. 

"Oh! I'll engage to settle that business, " cried Max. "Be in themarket-place early, all of you, and let me know when the old fellowgoes for his cart. "

It was striking half-past three in the morning as the Knights slippedout in silence to go to their homes; gliding close to the walls of thehouses without making the least noise, shod as they were in listshoes. Max slowly returned to the place Saint-Jean, situated in theupper part of the town, between the port Saint-Jean and the portVilatte, the quarter of the rich bourgeoisie. Maxence Gilet hadconcealed his fears, but the news had struck home. His experience onthe hulks at Cabrera had taught him a dissimulation as deep andthorough as his corruption. First, and above all else, the fortythousand francs a year from landed property which old Rouget ownedwas, let it be clearly understood, the constituent element of Max'spassion for Flore Brazier. By his present bearing it is easy to seehow much confidence the woman had given him in the financial futureshe expected to obtain through the infatuation of the old bachelor. Nevertheless, the news of the arrival of the legitimate heirs was of anature to shake Max's faith in Flore's influence. Rouget's savings, accumulating during the last seventeen years, still stood in his ownname; and even if the will, which Flore declared had long been made inher favor, were revoked, these savings at least might be secured byputting them in the name of Mademoiselle Brazier. 

"That fool of a girl never told me, in all these seven years, a wordabout the sister and nephews!" cried Max, turning from the rue de laMarmouse into the rue l'Avenier. "Seven hundred and fifty thousandfrancs placed with different notaries at Bourges, and Vierzon, andChateauroux, can't be turned into money and put into the Funds in aweek, without everybody knowing it in this gossiping place! The mostimportant thing is to get rid of these relations; as soon as they aredriven away we ought to make haste to secure the property. I mustthink it over. "

Max was tired. By the help of a pass-key, he let himself into PereRouget's house, and went to bed without making any noise, saying tohimself, --

"To-morrow, my thoughts will be clear. "

It is now necessary to relate where the sultana of the placeSaint-Jean picked up the nickname of "Rabouilleuse, " and how she cameto 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; hethen treated him harshly, trying to break him into a routine thatmight serve in place of intelligence. He thus, though unconsciously, prepared him to submit to the yoke of the first tyranny that threw itshalter over his head. 

Coming home one day from his professional round, the malignant andvicious old man came across a bewitching little girl at the edge ofsome fields that lay along the avenue de Tivoli. Hearing the horse, the child sprang up from the bottom of one of the many brooks whichare to be seen from the heights of Issoudun, threading the meadowslike ribbons of silver on a green robe. Naiad-like, she rose suddenlyon the doctor's vision, showing the loveliest virgin head thatpainters 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 inalternate strips of brown and white, full of holes and very ragged. Asheet of rough writing paper, tied on by a shred of osier, served herfor a hat. Beneath this paper--covered with pot-hooks and round O's, from which it derived the name of "schoolpaper"--the loveliest mass ofblonde hair that ever a daughter of Eve could have desired, wastwisted up, and held in place by a species of comb made to comb outthe tails of horses. Her pretty tanned bosom, and her neck, scarcelycovered by a ragged fichu which was once a Madres handkerchief, showededges of the white skin below the exposed and sun-burned parts. Oneend of her petticoat was drawn between the legs and fastened with ahuge pin in front, giving that garment the look of a pair of bathingdrawers. The feet and the legs, which could be seen through the clearwater in which she stood, attracted the eye by a delicacy which wasworthy of a sculptor of the middle ages. The charming limbs exposed tothe sun had a ruddy tone that was not without beauty of its own. Theneck and bosom were worthy of being wrapped in silks and cashmeres;and the nymph had blue eyes fringed with long lashes, whose glancemight have made a painter or a poet fall upon his knees. The doctor, enough of an anatomist to trace the exquisite figure, recognized theloss it would be to art if the lines of such a model were destroyed bythe hard toil of the fields. 

"Where do you come from, little girl? I have never seen you before, "said the old doctor, then sixty-two years of age. This scene tookplace in the month of September, 1799. 

"I belong in Vatan, " she answered. 

Hearing Rouget's voice, an ill-looking man, standing at some distancein the deeper waters of the brook, raised his head. "What are youabout, Flore?" he said, "While you are talking instead of catching, the creatures will get away. "

"Why have you come here from Vatan?" continued the doctor, paying noheed to the interruption. 

"I am catching crabs for my uncle Brazier here. "

"Rabouiller" is a Berrichon word which admirably describes the thingit is intended to express; namely, the action of troubling the waterof a brook, making it boil and bubble with a branch whose end-shootsspread out like a racket. The crabs, frightened by this operation, which they do not understand, come hastily to the surface, and intheir flurry rush into the net the fisher has laid for them at alittle distance. Flore Brazier held her "rabouilloir" in her hand withthe natural grace of childlike innocence. 

"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. 

"We are under a Directory, " said the doctor, "and I know of no lawwhich allows a man to come from Vatan and fish in the territory ofIssoudun"; 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 madfrom a sun-stroke he got in the fields. "

"How much do you earn?"

"Five sous a day while the season lasts; I catch 'em as far as theBraisne. In harvest time, I glean; in winter, I spin. "

"You are about twelve years old?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Do you want to come with me? You shall be well fed and well dressed, and have some pretty shoes. "

"No, my niece will stay with me; I am responsible to God and man forher, " said Uncle Brazier who had come up to them. "I am her guardian, d'ye see?"

The doctor kept his countenance and checked a smile which might haveescaped most people at the aspect of the man. The guardian wore apeasant's hat, rotted by sun and rain, eaten like the leaves of acabbage that has harbored several caterpillars, and mended, here andthere, with white thread. Beneath the hat was a dark and sunken face, in which the mouth, nose, and eyes, seemed four black spots. Hisforlorn jacket was a bit of patchwork, and his trousers were of crashtowelling. 

"I am Doctor Rouget, " said that individual; "and as you are theguardian 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 soonappear with his pretty "rabouilleuse, " Doctor Rouget set spurs to hishorse and returned to Issoudun. He had hardly sat down to dinner, before his cook announced the arrival of the citoyen and citoyenneBrazier. 

"Sit down, " said the doctor to the uncle and niece. 

Flore and her guardian, still barefooted, looked round the doctor'sdining-room with wondering eyes; never having seen its like before. 

The house, which Rouget inherited from the Descoings estate, stands inthe middle of the place Saint-Jean, a so-called square, very long andvery narrow, planted with a few sickly lindens. The houses in thispart of town are better built than elsewhere, and that of theDescoings's was one of the finest. It stands opposite to the house ofMonsieur Hochon, and has three windows in front on the first storey, and a porte-cochere on the ground-floor which gives entrance to acourtyard, beyond which lies the garden. Under the archway of theporte-cochere is the door of a large hall lighted by two windows onthe street. The kitchen is behind this hall, part of the space beingused for a staircase which leads to the upper floor and to the atticabove that. Beyond the kitchen is a wood-shed and wash-house, a stablefor two horses and a coach-house, over which are some little lofts forthe storage of oats, hay, and straw, where, at that time, the doctor'sservant slept. 

The hall which the little peasant and her uncle admired with suchwonder is decorated with wooden carvings of the time of Louis XV. , painted gray, and a handsome marble chimney-piece, over which Florebeheld herself in a large mirror without any upper division and with acarved and gilded frame. On the panelled walls of the room, from spaceto space, hung several pictures, the spoil of various religioushouses, such as the abbeys of Deols, Issoudun, Saint-Gildas, La Pree, Chezal-Beniot, Saint-Sulpice, and the convents of Bourges andIssoudun, which the liberality of our kings had enriched with theprecious gifts 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 Demenichino, a Head ofChrist by Gian Bellini, a Virgin of Leonardo, a Bearing of the Crossby Titian, which formerly belonged to the Marquis de Belabre (the onewho sustained a siege and had his head cut off under Louis XIII. ); aLazarus of Paul Veronese, a Marriage of the Virgin by the priestGenois, two church paintings by Rubens, and a replica of a picture byPerugino, done either by Perugino himself or by Raphael; and finally, two Correggios and one Andrea del Sarto. 

The Descoings had culled these treasures from three hundred churchpictures, without knowing their value, and selecting them only fortheir good preservation. Many were not only in magnificent frames, butsome were still under glass. Perhaps it was the beauty of the framesand the value of the glass that led the Descoings to retain thepictures. The furniture of the room was not wanting in the sort ofluxury we prize in these days, though at that time it had no value inIssoudun. The clock, standing on the mantle-shelf between two superbsilver candlesticks with six branches, had an ecclesiastical splendorwhich revealed the hand of Boulle. The armchairs of carved oak, covered with tapestry-work due to the devoted industry of women ofhigh rank, would be treasured in these days, for each was surmountedwith a crown and coat-of-arms. Between the windows stood a richconsole, brought from some castle, on whose marble slab stood animmense China jar, in which the doctor kept his tobacco. But neitherRouget, nor his son, nor the cook, took the slightest care of allthese treasures. They spat upon a hearth of exquisite delicacy, whosegilded mouldings were now green with verdigris. A handsome chandelier, partly of semi-transparent porcelain, was peppered, like the ceilingfrom which it hung, with black speckles, bearing witness to theimmunity enjoyed by the flies. The Descoings had draped the windowswith brocatelle curtains torn from the bed of some monastic prior. Tothe left of the entrance-door, stood a chest or coffer, worth manythousand francs, which the doctor now used for a sideboard. 

"Here, Fanchette, " cried Rouget to his cook, "bring two glasses; andgive us some of the old wine. "

Fanchette, a big Berrichon countrywoman, who was considered a bettercook than even La Cognette, ran in to receive the order with acelerity which said much for the doctor's despotism, and somethingalso for her own curiosity. 

"What is an acre of vineyard worth in your parts?" asked the doctor, pouring out a glass of wine for Brazier. 

"Three hundred francs in silver. "

"Well, then! leave your niece here as my servant; she shall have threehundred francs in wages, and, as you are her guardian, you can takethem. "

"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, andobedient as a kitten. She were the light o' my poor brother's eyes--"

"I will pay a year in advance, " observed the doctor. 

"Bless me! say two years, and I'll leave her with you, for she'll bebetter off with you than with us; my wife beats her, she can't abideher. There's none but I to stand up for her, and the little saint of acreature is as innocent as a new-born babe. "

When he heard the last part of this speech, the doctor, struck by theword "innocent, " made a sign to the uncle and took him out into thecourtyard and from thence to the garden; leaving the Rabouilleuse atthe table with Fanchette and Jean-Jacques, who immediately questionedher, and to whom she naively related her meeting with the doctor. 

"There now, my little darling, good-by, " said Uncle Brazier, comingback and kissing Flore on the forehead; "you can well say I've madeyour happiness by leaving you with this kind and worthy father of thepoor; you must obey him as you would me. Be a good girl, and behavenicely, and do everything he tells you. "

"Get the room over mine ready, " said the doctor to Fanchette. "LittleFlore--I am sure she is worthy of the name--will sleep there infuture. To-morrow, we'll send for a shoemaker and a dressmaker. Putanother plate on the table; she shall keep us company. "

That evening, all Issoudun could talk of nothing else than the suddenappearance of the little "rabouilleuse" in Doctor Rouget's house. Inthat region of satire the nickname stuck to Mademoiselle Brazierbefore, during, and after the period of her good fortune. 

The doctor no doubt intended to do with Flore Brazier, in a small way, what Louis XV. Did in a large one with Mademoiselle de Romans; but hewas too late about it; Louis XV. Was still young, whereas the doctorwas in the flower of old age. From twelve to fourteen, the charminglittle Rabouilleuse lived a life of unmixed happiness. Alwayswell-dressed, and often much better tricked out than the richest girlsin Issoudun, she sported a gold watch and jewels, given by the doctor toencourage her studies, and she had a master who taught her to read, write, and cipher. But the almost animal life of the true peasant hadinstilled into Flore such deep repugnance to the bitter cup ofknowledge, that the doctor stopped her education at that point. Hisintentions with regard to the child, whom he cleansed and clothed, andtaught, and formed with a care which was all the more remarkablebecause he was thought to be utterly devoid of tenderness, wereinterpreted in a variety of ways by the cackling society of the town, whose gossip often gave rise to fatal blunders, like those relating tothe birth of Agathe and that of Max. It is not easy for the communityof a country town to disentangle the truth from the mass of conjectureand contradictory reports to which a single fact gives rise. Theprovinces insist--as in former days the politicians of the littleProvence at the Tuileries insisted--on full explanations, and theyusually end by knowing everything. But each person clings to theversion of the event which he, or she, likes best; proclaims it, argues it, and considers it the only true one. In spite of the stronglight cast upon people's lives by the constant spying of a littletown, truth is thus often obscured; and to be recognized, it needs theimpartiality which historians or superior minds acquire by looking atthe subject from a higher point of view. 

"What do you suppose that old gorilla wants at his age with a littlegirl only fifteen years old?" society was still saying two years afterthe arrival of the Rabouilleuse. 

"Ah! that's true, " they answered, "his days of merry-making are longpast. "

"My dear fellow, the doctor is disgusted at the stupidity of his son, and he persists in hating his daughter Agathe; it may be that he hasbeen living a decent life for the last two years, intending to marrylittle Flore; suppose she were to give him a fine, active, strappingboy, 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 Lousteauled from 1770 to 1787, is it likely that either of them would havechildren at sixty-five years of age? The old villain has read theScriptures, if only as a doctor, and he is doing as David did in hisold age; that's all. "

"They say that Brazier, when he is drunk, boasts in Vatan that hecheated him, " cried one of those who always believed the worst ofpeople. 

"Good heavens! neighbor; what won't they say at Issoudun?"

From 1800 to 1805, that is, for five years, the doctor enjoyed all thepleasures of educating Flore without the annoyances which theambitions and pretensions of Mademoiselle de Romans inflicted, it issaid, on Louis le Bien-Aime. The little Rabouilleuse was so satisfiedwhen she compared the life she led at the doctor's with that she wouldhave led at her uncle Brazier's, that she yielded no doubt to theexactions of her master as if she had been an Eastern slave. With duedeference to the makers of idylls and to philanthropists, theinhabitants of the provinces have very little idea of certain virtues;and their scruples are of a kind that is roused by self-interest, andnot by any sentiment of the right or the becoming. Raised from infancywith no prospect before them but poverty and ceaseless labor, they areled to consider anything that saves them from the hell of hunger andeternal toil as permissible, particularly if it is not contrary to anylaw. Exceptions to this rule are rare. Virtue, socially speaking, isthe companion of a comfortable life, and comes only with education. 

Thus the Rabouilleuse was an object of envy to all the youngpeasant-girls within a circuit of ten miles, although her conduct, froma religious point of view, was supremely reprehensible. Flore, born in1787, grew up in the midst of the saturnalias of 1793 and 1798, whoselurid gleams penetrated these country regions, then deprived ofpriests and faith and altars and religious ceremonies; where marriagewas nothing more than legal coupling, and revolutionary maxims left adeep impression. This was markedly the case at Issoudun, a land where, as we have seen, revolt of all kinds is traditional. In 1802, Catholicworship was scarcely re-established. The Emperor found it a difficultmatter to obtain priests. In 1806, many parishes all over France werestill 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 beweaker than self-interest in the ward of Uncle Brazier. If, aseverybody chose to suppose, the cynical doctor was compelled by hisage to respect a child of fifteen, the Rabouilleuse was none the lessconsidered very "wide awake, " a term much used in that region. Still, some persons thought she could claim a certificate of innocence fromthe cessation of the doctor's cares and attentions in the last twoyears of his life, during which time he showed her something more thancoldness. 

Old Rouget had killed too many people not to know when his own end wasnigh; and his notary, finding him on his death-bed, draped as it were, in the mantle of encyclopaedic philosophy, pressed him to make aprovision in favor of the young girl, then seventeen years old. 

"So I do, " he said, cynically; "my death sets her at liberty. "

This speech paints the nature of the old man. Covering his evil doingswith witty sayings, he obtained indulgence for them, in a land wherewit is always applauded, --especially when addressed to obviousself-interest. In those words the notary read the concentrated hatredof a man whose calculations had been balked by Nature herself, and whorevenged himself upon the innocent object of an impotent love. Thisopinion was confirmed to some extent by the obstinate resolution ofthe doctor to leave nothing to the Rabouilleuse, saying with a bittersmile, when the notary again urged the subject upon him, --

"Her beauty will make her rich enough!"

 CHAPTER IX

Jean-Jacques Rouget did not mourn his father, though Flore Brazierdid. The old doctor had made his son extremely unhappy, especiallysince he came of age, which happened in 1791; but he had given thelittle peasant-girl the material pleasures which are the ideal ofhappiness to country-folk. When Fanchette asked Flore, after thefuneral, "Well, what is to become of you, now that monsieur is dead?"Jean-Jacques's eyes lighted up, and for the first time in his life hisdull face grew animated, showed feeling, and seemed to brighten underthe rays of a thought. 

"Leave the room, " he said to Fanchette, who was clearing the table. 

At seventeen, Flore retained that delicacy of feature and form, thatdistinction of beauty which attracted the doctor, and which women ofthe world know how to preserve, though it fades among thepeasant-girls like the flowers of the field. Nevertheless, thetendency to embonpoint, which handsome countrywomen develop when theyno longer live a life of toil and hardship in the fields and in thesunshine, was already noticeable about her. Her bust had developed. The plump white shoulders were modelled on rich lines thatharmoniously blended with those of the throat, already showing a fewfolds of flesh. But the outline of the face was still faultless, andthe chin delicate. 

"Flore, " said Jean-Jacques, in a trembling voice, "you feel at home inthis house?"

"Yes, Monsieur Jean. "

As the heir was about to make his declaration, he felt his tonguestiffen at the recollection of the dead man, just put away in hisgrave, and a doubt seized him as to what lengths his father'sbenevolence might have gone. Flore, who was quite unable even tosuspect his simplicity of mind, looked at her future master and waitedfor a time, expecting Jean-Jacques to go on with what he was saying;but she finally left him without knowing what to think of suchobstinate silence. Whatever teaching the Rabouilleuse may havereceived from the doctor, it was many a long day before she finallyunderstood the character of Jean-Jacques, whose history we now presentin a few words. 

At the death of his father, Jacques, then thirty-seven, was as timidand submissive to paternal discipline as a child of twelve years old. That timidity ought to explain his childhood, youth, and after-life tothose who are reluctant to admit the existence of such characters, orsuch facts as this history relates, --though proofs of them are, alas, common everywhere, even among princes; for Sophie Dawes was taken bythe last of the Condes under worse circumstances than theRabouilleuse. There are two species of timidity, --the timidity of themind, and the timidity of the nerves; a physical timidity, and a moraltimidity. The one is independent of the other. The body may fear andtremble, while the mind is calm and courageous, or vice versa. This isthe key to many moral eccentricities. When the two are united in oneman, that man will be a cipher all his life; such double-sidedtimidity makes him what we call "an imbecile. " Often fine suppressedqualities are hidden within that imbecile. To this double infirmity wemay, perhaps, owe the lives of certain monks who lived in ecstasy; forthis unfortunate moral and physical disposition is produced quite asmuch by the perfection of the soul and of the organs, as by defectswhich are still unstudied. 

The timidity of Jean-Jacques came from a certain torpor of hisfaculties, which a great teacher or a great surgeon, like Despleins, would have roused. In him, as in the cretins, the sense of love hadinherited a strength and vigor which were lacking to his mentalqualities, though he had mind enough to guide him in ordinary affairs. The violence of passion, stripped of the ideal in which most young menexpend it, only increased his timidity. He had never brought himselfto court, as the saying is, any woman in Issoudun. Certainly no younggirl or matron would make advances to a young man of mean stature, awkward and shame-faced in attitude; whose vulgar face, with itsflattened features and pallid skin, making him look old before histime, was rendered still more hideous by a pair of large and prominentlight-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 ofideas, resulting from his education, held him back on the other. Paralyzed between these opposing forces, he had not a word to say, andfeared to be spoken to, so much did he dread the obligation ofreplying. Desire, which usually sets free the tongue, only petrifiedhis powers of speech. Thus it happened that Jean-Jacques Rouget wassolitary and sought solitude because there alone he was at his ease. 

The doctor had seen, too late for remedy, the havoc wrought in hisson's life by a temperament and a character of this kind. He wouldhave been glad to get him married; but to do that, he must deliver himover to an influence that was certain to become tyrannical, and thedoctor hesitated. Was it not practically giving the whole managementof the property into the hands of a stranger, some unknown girl? Thedoctor knew how difficult it was to gain true indications of the moralcharacter of a woman from any study of a young girl. So, while hecontinued to search for a daughter-in-law whose sentiments andeducation offered some guarantees for the future, he endeavored topush his son into the ways of avarice; meaning to give the poor fool asort of instinct that might eventually take the place of intelligence. 

He trained him, in the first place, to mechanical habits of life; andinstilled into him fixed ideas as to the investment of his revenues:and he spared him the chief difficulties of the management of afortune, by leaving his estates all in good order, and leased for longperiods. Nevertheless, a fact which was destined to be of paramountimportance in the life of the poor creature escaped the notice of thewily old doctor. Timidity is a good deal like dissimulation, and isequally secretive. Jean-Jacques was passionately in love with theRabouilleuse. Nothing, of course, could be more natural. Flore was theonly woman who lived in the bachelor's presence, the only one he couldsee at his ease; and at all hours he secretly contemplated her andwatched her. To him, she was the light of his paternal home; she gavehim, unknown to herself, the only pleasures that brightened his youth. Far from being jealous of his father, he rejoiced in the education theold man was giving to Flore: would it not make her all he wanted, awoman easy to win, and to whom, therefore, he need pay no court? Thepassion, 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 whosepersistency resembles thought. 

The next day, Flore, who had been reflecting on her master's silence, waited in expectation of some momentous communication; but although hekept near her, and looked at her on the sly with passionate glances, Jean-Jacques still found nothing to say. At last, when the dessert wason 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 you, Monsieur Jean. "

This strange situation lasted three weeks. One night, when no soundbroke the stillness of the house, Flore, who chanced to wake up, heardthe regular breathing of human lungs outside her door, and wasfrightened to discover Jean-Jacques, crouched like a dog on thelanding. 

"He loves me, " she thought; "but he will get the rheumatism if hekeeps up that sort of thing. "

The next day Flore looked at her master with a certain expression. This mute almost instinctive love had touched her; she no longerthought the poor ninny so ugly, though his forehead was crowned withpimples resembling ulcers, the signs of a vitiated blood. 

"You don't want to go back and live in the fields, do you?" saidJean-Jacques when they were alone. 

"Why do you 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--"

"Ah! that's it, " returned Rouget, with a frightened air. "Are you anhonest girl?"

"I'll take my oath--"

"Are you, truly?"

"Don't you hear me tell you so?"

"Come; are you the same as you were when your uncle brought you herebarefooted?"

"A fine question, faith!" cried Flore, blushing. 

The heir lowered his head and did not raise it again. Flore, amazed atsuch an encouraging sign from a man who had been overcome by a fear ofthat nature, left the room. 

Three days later, at the same hour (for both seemed to regard thedessert as a field of battle), Flore spoke first, and said to hermaster, --

"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--"

"On my word!" she said, "I will tell you the whole truth. "

"The whole truth about--my father?" he asked in a strangled voice. 

"Your father, " she said, looking full into her master's eye, "was aworthy man--he liked a joke--What of that?--there was nothing in it. But, poor dear man, it wasn't the will that was wanting. The truth is, he had some spite against you, I don't know what, and he meant--oh! hemeant you harm. Sometimes he made me laugh; but there! what of that?"

"Well, Flore, " said the heir, taking her hand, "as my father wasnothing to you--"

"What did you suppose he was to me?" she cried, as if offended by someunworthy suspicion. 

"Well, but just listen--"

"He was my benefactor, that was all. Ah! he would have liked to makeme his wife, but--"

"But, " said Rouget, taking the hand which Flore had snatched away fromhim, "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, you!" exclaimed Rouget. "Yes, you shall be--mistress here. All that is here shall be yours; you shall take careof my property, it is almost yours now--for I love you; I have alwaysloved you since the day you came and stood there--there!--with barefeet. "

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 thanreturning to the fields?"

"As you will, Monsieur Jean, " she answered. 

Nevertheless, in spite of her "as you will, " Jean-Jacques got nofurther. Men of his nature want certainty. The effort that they makein avowing their love is so great, and costs them so much, that theyfeel unable to go on with it. This accounts for their attachment tothe first woman who accepts them. We can only guess at circumstancesby results. Ten months after the death of his father, Jean-Jacqueschanged completely; his leaden face cleared, and his whole countenancebreathed happiness. Flore exacted that he should take minute care ofhis person, and her own vanity was gratified in seeing himwell-dressed; she always stood on the sill of the door, and watchedhim starting for a walk, until she could see him no longer. The wholetown noticed these changes, which had made a new man of the bachelor. 

"Have you heard the news?" people said to each other in Issoudun. 

"What is it?"

"Jean-Jacques inherits everything from his father, even theRabouilleuse. "

"Don't you suppose the old doctor was wicked enough to provide a rulerfor his son?"

"Rouget has got a treasure, that's certain, " said everybody. 

"She's a sly one! She is very handsome, and she will make him marryher. "

"What luck that girl has had, to be sure!"

"The luck that only comes to pretty girls. "

"Ah, bah! do you believe that? look at my uncle Borniche-Herau. Youhave heard of Mademoiselle Ganivet? she was as ugly as seven capitalsins, but for all that, she got three thousand francs a year out ofhim. "

"Yes, but that was in 1778. "

"Still, Rouget is making a mistake. His father left him a good fortythousand francs' income, and he ought to marry Mademoiselle Herau. "

"The doctor tried to arrange it, but she would not consent;Jean-Jacques is so stupid--"

"Stupid! why women are very happy with that style of man. "

"Is your wife happy?"

Such was the sort of tattle that ran through Issoudun. If people, following the use and wont of the provinces, began by laughing at thisquasi-marriage, they ended by praising Flore for devoting herself tothe poor fellow. We now see how it was that Flore Brazier obtained themanagement of the Rouget household, --from father to son, as youngGoddet had said. It is desirable to sketch the history of thatmanagement for the edification of old bachelors. 

Fanchette, the cook, was the only person in Issoudun who thought itwrong that Flore Brazier should be queen over Jean-Jacques Rouget andhis home. She protested against the immorality of the connection, andtook a tone of injured virtue; the fact being that she was humiliatedby having, at her age, a crab-girl for a mistress, --a child who hadbeen brought barefoot into the house. Fanchette owned three hundredfrancs a year in the Funds, for the doctor made her invest her savingsin that way, and he had left her as much more in an annuity; she couldtherefore live at her ease without the necessity of working, and shequitted the house nine months after the funeral of her old master, April 15, 1806. That date may indicate, to a perspicacious observer, the epoch at which Flore Brazier ceased to be an honest girl. 

The Rabouilleuse, clever enough to foresee Fanchette's probabledefection, --there is nothing like the exercise of power for teachingpolicy, --was already resolved to do without a servant. For six monthsshe had studied, without seeming to do so, the culinary operationsthat made Fanchette a cordon-bleu worthy of cooking for a doctor. Inthe matter of choice living, doctors are on a par with bishops. Thedoctor had brought Fanchette's talents to perfection. In the provincesthe lack of occupation and the monotony of existence turn all activityof mind towards the kitchen. People do not dine as luxuriously in thecountry as they do in Paris, but they dine better; the dishes aremeditated upon and studied. In rural regions we often find some Caremein petticoats, some unrecognized genius able to serve a simple dish ofharicot-beans worthy of the nod with which Rossini welcomed aperfectly-rendered measure. 

When studying for his degree in Paris, the doctor had followed acourse of chemistry under Rouelle, and had gathered some ideas whichhe afterwards put to use in the chemistry of cooking. His memory isfamous in Issoudun for certain improvements little known outside ofBerry. It was he who discovered that an omelette is far more delicatewhen the whites and the yolks are not beaten together with theviolence which cooks usually put into the operation. He consideredthat the whites should be beaten to a froth and the yolks gently addedby degrees; moreover a frying-pan should never be used, but a"cagnard" of porcelain or earthenware. The "cagnard" is a species ofthick dish standing on four feet, so that when it is placed on thestove the air circulates underneath and prevents the fire fromcracking it. In Touraine the "cagnard" is called a "cauquemarre. "Rabelais, I think, speaks of a "cauquemarre" for cooking cockatriceeggs, thus proving the antiquity of the utensil. The doctor had alsofound a way to prevent the tartness of browned butter; but his secret, which unluckily he kept to his own kitchen, has been lost. 

Flore, a born fryer and roaster, two qualities that can never beacquired by observation nor yet by labor, soon surpassed Fanchette. Inmaking herself a cordon-bleu she was thinking of Jean-Jacques'scomfort; though she was, it must be owned, tolerably dainty. Incapable, like all persons without education, of doing anything withher brains, she spent her activity upon household matters. She rubbedup the furniture till it shone, and kept everything about the house ina state of cleanliness worthy of Holland. She managed the avalanchesof soiled linen and the floods of water that go by the name of "thewash, " which was done, according to provincial usage, three times ayear. She kept a housewifely eye to the linen, and mended itcarefully. Then, desirous of learning little by little the secret ofthe family property, she acquired the very limited business knowledgewhich Rouget possessed, and increased it by conversations with thenotary of the late doctor, Monsieur Heron. Thus instructed, she gaveexcellent advice to her little Jean-Jacques. Sure of being alwaysmistress, she was as eager and solicitous about the old bachelor'sinterests as if they had been her own. She was not obliged to guardagainst the exactions of her uncle, for two months before the doctor'sdeath Brazier died of a fall as he was leaving a wine-shop, where, since his rise in fortune, he spent most of his time. Flore had alsolost her father; thus she served her master with all the affectionwhich an orphan, thankful to make herself a home and a settlement inlife, would naturally feel. 

This period of his life was paradise to poor Jean-Jacques, who nowacquired the gentle habits of an animal, trained into a sort ofmonastic regularity. He slept late. Flore, who was up at daybreakattending to her housekeeping, woke him so that he should find hisbreakfast ready as soon as he had finished dressing. After breakfast, about eleven o'clock, Jean-Jacques went to walk; talked with thepeople he met, and came home at three in the afternoon to read thepapers, --those of the department, and a journal from Paris which hereceived three days after publication, well greased by the thirtyhands through which it came, browned by the snuffy noses that hadpored 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 fordinner; over that meal he spent as much time as it was possible togive to it. Flore told him the news of the town, repeating the cacklethat was current, which she had carefully picked up. Towards eighto'clock the lights were put out. Going to bed early is a saving offire and candles very commonly practised in the provinces, whichcontributes no doubt to the empty-mindedness of the inhabitants. Toomuch 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 further, if the notaries of those towns andMonsieur Heron had no investments ready for acceptance. Rouget lenthis money at five per cent on a first mortgage, with release of thewife's rights in case the owner was married. He never lent more than athird of the value of the property, and required notes payable to hisorder for an additional interest of two and a half per cent spreadover the whole duration of the loan. Such were the rules his fatherhad told him to follow. Usury, that clog upon the ambition of thepeasantry, is the destroyer of country regions. This levy of seven anda half per cent seemed, therefore, so reasonable to the borrowers thatJean-Jacques Rouget had his choice of investments; and the notaries ofthe different towns, who got a fine commission for themselves fromclients for whom they obtained money on such good terms, gave duenotice to the old bachelor. 

During these nine years Flore obtained in the long run, insensibly andwithout aiming for it, an absolute control over her master. From thefirst, she treated him very familiarly; then, without failing him inproper respect, she so far surpassed him in superiority of mind andforce of character that he became in fact the servant of his servant. Elderly child that he was, he met this mastery half-way by lettingFlore take such care of him that she treated him more as a motherwould a son; and he himself ended by clinging to her with the feelingof a child dependent on a mother's protection. But there were otherties between them not less tightly knotted. In the first place, Florekept the house and managed all its business. Jean-Jacques lefteverything to the crab-girl so completely that life without her wouldhave seemed to him not only difficult, but impossible. In every way, this woman had become the one need of his existence; she indulged allhis fancies, for she knew them well. He loved to see her bright facealways smiling at him, --the only face that had ever smiled upon him, the only one to which he could look for a smile. This happiness, apurely material happiness, expressed in the homely words which comereadiest to the tongue in a Berrichon household, and visible on thefine countenance of the young woman, was like a reflection of his owninward content. The state into which Jean-Jacques was thrown whenFlore's brightness was clouded over by some passing annoyance revealedto the girl her power over him, and, to make sure of it, she sometimesliked to use it. Using such power means, with women of her class, abusing it. The Rabouilleuse, no doubt, made her master play some ofthose scenes buried in the mysteries of private life, of which Otwaygives a specimen in the tragedy of "Venice Preserved, " where the scenebetween the senator and Aquilina is the realization of themagnificently horrible. Flore felt so secure of her power that, unfortunately for her, and for the bachelor himself, it did not occurto her to make him marry her. 

Towards the close of 1815, Flore, who was then twenty-seven, hadreached the perfect development of her beauty. Plump and fresh, andwhite as a Norman countrywoman, she was the ideal of what ourancestors used to call "a buxom housewife. " Her beauty, always that ofa handsome barmaid, though higher in type and better kept, gave her alikeness to Mademoiselle George in her palmy days, setting aside thelatter's imperial dignity. Flore had the dazzling white round arms, the ample modelling, the satiny textures of the skin, the alluringthough less rigidly correct outlines of the great actress. Herexpression was one of sweetness and tenderness; but her glancecommanded less respect than that of the noblest Agrippina that evertrod the French stage since the days of Racine: on the contrary, itevoked a vulgar joy. In 1816 the Rabouilleuse saw Maxence Gilet, andfell in love with him at first sight. Her heart was cleft by themythological arrow, --admirable description of an effect of naturewhich the Greeks, unable to conceive the chivalric, ideal, andmelancholy love begotten of Christianity, could represent in no otherway. Flore was too handsome to be disdained, and Max accepted hisconquest. 

Thus, at twenty-eight years of age, the Rabouilleuse felt for thefirst time a true love, an idolatrous love, the love which includesall ways of loving, --that of Gulnare and that of Medora. As soon asthe penniless officer found out the respective situations of Flore andJean-Jacques Rouget, he saw something more desirable than an"amourette" in an intimacy with the Rabouilleuse. He asked nothingbetter for his future prosperity than to take up his abode at theRouget's, recognizing perfectly the feeble nature of the old bachelor. Flore's passion necessarily affected the life and household affairs ofher master. For a month the old man, now grown excessively timid, sawthe laughing and kindly face of his mistress change to somethingterrible and gloomy and sullen. He was made to endure flashes of angrytemper purposely displayed, precisely like a married man whose wife ismeditating an infidelity. When, after some cruel rebuff, he nervedhimself to ask Flore the reason of the change, her eyes were so fullof hatred, and her voice so aggressive and contemptuous, that the poorcreature quailed under them. 

"Good heavens!" she cried; "you have neither heart nor soul! Here'ssixteen years that I have spent my youth in this house, and I haveonly just found out that you have got a stone there (striking herbreast). For two months you have seen before your eyes that bravecaptain, a victim of the Bourbons, who was cut out for a general, andis down in the depths of poverty, hunted into a hole of a place wherethere's no way to make a penny of money! He's forced to sit on a stoolall day in the mayor's office to earn--what? Six hundred miserablefrancs, --a fine thing, indeed! And here are you, with six hundred andfifty-nine thousand well invested, and sixty thousand francs' income, --thanks to me, who never spend more than three thousand a year, everything included, even my own clothes, yes, everything!--and younever think of offering him a home here, though there's the secondfloor empty! You'd rather the rats and mice ran riot in it than put ahuman being there, --and he a lad your father always allowed to be hisown son! Do you want to know what you are? I'll tell you, --afratricide! 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 inyou than the spitefullest of men. Well, yes! I do take an interest inhim, and a keen one--"

"But, Flore--"

"'_But, Flore_', indeed! What's that got to do with it? You may go andfind another Flore (if you can!), for I hope this glass of wine maypoison me if I don't get away from your dungeon of a house. I haven't, God be thanked! cost you one penny during the twelve years I've beenwith you, and you have had the pleasure of my company into thebargain. I could have earned my own living anywhere with the work thatI've done here, --washing, ironing, looking after the linen, going tomarket, cooking, taking care of your interests before everything, slaving myself to death from morning till night, --and this is myreward!"

"But, Flore--"

"Oh, yes, '_Flore_'! find another Flore, if you can, at your time oflife, fifty-one years old, and getting feeble, --for the way yourhealth is failing is frightful, I know that! and besides, you are nonetoo amusing--"

"But, Flore--"

"Let me alone!"

She went out, slamming the door with a violence that echoed throughthe house, and seemed to shake it to its foundations. Jean-Jacquessoftly opened the door and went, still more softly, into the kitchenwhere she was muttering to herself. 

"But, Flore, " said the poor sheep, "this is the first time I haveheard of this wish of yours; how do you know whether I will agree toit or not?"

"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; ifthey came to rob you we should both be murdered. For my part, I don'tcare to wake up some fine morning chopped in quarters, as happened tothat 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 asCaesar and who wasn't born yesterday, --for Max could swallow threeburglars as quick as a flash, --well, then I should sleep easy. Peoplemay tell you a lot of stuff, --that I love him, that I adore him, --andsome say this and some say that! Do you know what you ought to say?You ought to answer that you know it; that your father told you on hisdeathbed to take care of his poor Max. That will stop people'stongues; for every stone in Issoudun can tell you he paid Max'sschooling--and so! Here's nine years that I have eaten your bread--"

"Flore, --Flore!"

"--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? 'Mylittle Flore, ' they say, 'why won't you leave that old fool of aRouget, '--for that's what they call you. 'I leave him!' I alwaysanswer, 'a poor innocent like that? I think I see myself! what wouldbecome of him? No, no, where the kid is tethered, let her browse--'"

"Yes, Flore; I've none but you in this world, and you make me happy. If it will give you pleasure, my dear, well, we will have MaxenceGilet here; he can eat with us--"

"Heavens! I should hope so!"

"There, there! don't get angry--"

"Enough for one is enough for two, " she answered laughing. "I'll tellyou what you can do, my lamb, if you really mean to be kind; you mustgo and walk up and down near the Mayor's office at four o'clock, andmanage to meet Monsieur Gilet and invite him to dinner. If he makesexcuses, tell him it will give me pleasure; he is too polite torefuse. And after dinner, at dessert, if he tells you about hismisfortunes, and the hulks and so forth--for you can easily get him totalk about all that--then you can make him the offer to come and livehere. If he makes any objection, never mind, I shall know how tosettle it. "

Walking slowly along the boulevard Baron, the old celibate reflected, as much as he had the mind to reflect, over this incident. If he wereto part from Flore (the mere thought confused him) where could he findanother woman? Should he marry? At his age he should be married forhis money, and a legitimate wife would use him far more cruelly thanFlore. Besides, the thought of being deprived of her tenderness, evenif it were a mere pretence, caused him horrible anguish. He wastherefore as polite to Captain Gilet as he knew how to be. Theinvitation was given, as Flore had requested, before witnesses, toguard the hero's honor from all suspicion. 

A reconciliation took place between Flore and her master; but fromthat day forth Jean-Jacques noticed many a trifle that betokened atotal change in his mistress's affections. For two or three weeksFlore Brazier complained to the tradespeople in the markets, and tothe women with whom she gossiped, about Monsieur Rouget's tyranny, --how he had taken it into his head to invite his self-styled naturalbrother to live with him. No one, however, was taken in by thiscomedy; and Flore was looked upon as a wonderfully clever and artfulcreature. Old Rouget really found himself very comfortable after Maxbecame the master of his house; for he thus gained a companion whopaid him many attentions, without, however, showing any servility. Gilet talked, discussed politics, and sometimes went to walk withRouget. After Max was fairly installed, Flore did not choose to do thecooking; she said it spoiled her hands. At the request of the grandmaster of the Order of the Knights of Idleness, Mere Cognette producedone of her relatives, an old maid whose master, a curate, had latelydied without leaving her anything, --an excellent cook, withal, --whodeclared she would devote herself for life or death to Max and Flore. In the name of the two powers, Mere Cognette promised her an annuityof three hundred francs a year at the end of ten years, if she servedthem loyally, honestly, and discreetly. The Vedie, as she was called, was noticeable for a face deeply pitted by the small-pox, andcorrespondingly ugly. 

After the new cook had entered upon her duties, the Rabouilleuse tookthe title of Madame Brazier. She wore corsets; she had silk, orhandsome woollen and cotton dresses, according to the season, expensive neckerchiefs, embroidered caps and collars, lace ruffles ather throat, boots instead of shoes, and, altogether, adopted arichness and elegance of apparel which renewed the youthfulness of herappearance. She was like a rough diamond, that needed cutting andmounting by a jeweller to bring out its full value. Her desire was todo honor to Max. At the end of the first year, in 1817, she brought ahorse, styled English, from Bourges, for the poor cavalry captain, whowas weary of going afoot. Max had picked up in the purlieus ofIssoudun an old lancer of the Imperial Guard, a Pole named Kouski, nowvery poor, who asked nothing better than to quarter himself inMonsieur Rouget's house as the captain's servant. Max was Kouski'sidol, especially after the duel with the three royalists. So, from1817, the household of the old bachelor was made up of five persons, three of whom were masters, and the expenses advanced to about eightthousand francs a year. 

 CHAPTER X

At the time when Madame Bridau returned to Issoudun to save--as MaitreDesroches expressed it--an inheritance that was seriously threatened, Jean-Jacques Rouget had reached by degrees a condition that wassemi-vegetative. In the first place, after Max's instalment, Flore putthe table on an episcopal footing. Rouget, thrown in the way of goodliving, ate more and still more, enticed by the Vedie's excellentdishes. He grew no fatter, however, in spite of this abundant andluxurious nourishment. From day to day he weakened like a worn-outman, --fatigued, perhaps, with the effort of digestion, --and his eyeshad dark circles around them. Still, when his friends and neighborsmet him in his walks and questioned him about his health, he alwaysanswered that he was never better in his life. As he had always beenthought extremely deficient in mind, people did not notice theconstant lowering of his faculties. His love for Flore was the onething that kept him alive; in fact, he existed only for her, and hisweakness in her presence was unbounded; he obeyed the creature's merelook, and watched her movements as a dog watches every gesture of hismaster. In short, as Madame Hochon remarked, at fifty-seven years ofage he seemed older than Monsieur Hochon, an octogenarian. 

Every one will suppose, and with reason, that Max's _appartement_ wasworthy of so charming a fellow. In fact, in the course of six yearsour captain had by degrees perfected the comfort of his abode andadorned every detail of it, as much for his own pleasure as forFlore's. But it was, after all, only the comfort and luxury ofIssoudun, --colored tiles, rather elegant wallpapers, mahoganyfurniture, mirrors in gilt frames, muslin curtains with red borders, abed with a canopy, and draperies arranged as the provincialupholsterers arrange them for a rich bride; which in the eyes ofIssoudun seemed the height of luxury, but are so common in vulgarfashion-plates that even the petty shopkeepers in Paris have discardedthem at their weddings. One very unusual thing appeared, which causedmuch talk in Issoudun, namely, a rush-matting on the stairs, no doubtto muffle the sound of feet. In fact, though Max was in the habit ofcoming in at daybreak, he never woke any one, and Rouget was far fromsuspecting that his guest was an accomplice in the nocturnalperformances of the Knights of Idleness. 

About eight o'clock the next morning, Flore, wearing a dressing-gownof some pretty cotton stuff with narrow pink stripes, a lace cap onher head, and her feet in furred slippers, softly opened the door ofMax's chamber; seeing that he slept, she remained standing beside thebed. 

"He came in so late!" she said to herself. "It was half-past three. Hemust have a good constitution to stand such amusements. Isn't hestrong, the dear love! I wonder what they did last night. "

"Oh, there you are, my little Flore!" said Max, waking like a soldiertrained by the necessities of war to have his wits and hisself-possession about him the instant that he waked, however suddenlyit might happen. 

"You are sleepy; I'll go away. "

"No, stay; there's something serious going on. "

"Were you up to some mischief last night?"

"Ah, bah! It concerns you and me and that old fool. You never told mehe had a family! Well, his family are coming, --coming here, --no doubtto turn us out, neck and crop. "

"Ah! I'll shake him well, " said Flore. 

"Mademoiselle Brazier, " said Max gravely, "things are too serious forgiddiness. Send me my coffee; I'll take it in bed, where I'll thinkover what we had better do. Come back at nine o'clock, and we'll talkabout it. Meanwhile, 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, --

"Fario is hunting for his barrow!"

In five minutes Max was dressed and in the street, and though hesauntered along with apparent indifference, he soon reached the footof the tower embankment, where he found quite a collection of people. 

"What is it?" asked Max, making his way through the crowd and reachingthe Spaniard. 

Fario was a withered little man, as ugly as though he were ablue-blooded grandee. His fiery eyes, placed very close to his noseand piercing as a gimlet, would have won him the name of a sorcerer inNaples. He seemed gentle because he was calm, quiet, and slow in hismovements; and for this reason people commonly called him "goodmanFario. " But his skin--the color of gingerbread--and his softness ofmanner only hid from stupid eyes, and disclosed to observing ones, thehalf-Moorish nature of a peasant of Granada, which nothing had as yetroused from its phlegmatic indolence. 

"Are you sure, " Max said to him, after listening to his grievance, "that you brought your cart to this place? for, thank God, there areno thieves in Issoudun. "

"I left it just there--"

"If the horse was harnessed to it, hasn't he drawn it somewhere. "

"Here's the horse, " said Fario, pointing to the animal, which stoodharnessed thirty feet away. 

Max went gravely up to the place where the horse stood, because fromthere the bottom of the tower at the top of the embankment could beseen, --the crowd being at the foot of the mound. Everybody followedMax, and that was what the scoundrel wanted. 

"Has anybody thoughtlessly put a cart in his pocket?" cried Francois. 

"Turn out your pockets, all of you!" said Baruch. 

Shouts of laughter resounded on all sides. Fario swore. Oaths, with aSpaniard, denote the highest pitch of anger. 

"Was your cart light?" asked Max. 

"Light!" cried Fario. "If those who laugh at me had it on their feet, their corns would never hurt them again. "

"Well, it must be devilishly light, " answered Max, "for look there!"pointing to the foot of the tower; "it has flown up the embankment. "

At these words all eyes were lifted to the spot, and for a momentthere was a perfect uproar in the market-place. Each man pointed atthe barrow bewitched, and all their tongues wagged. 

"The devil makes common cause with the inn-keepers, " said Goddet tothe astonished Spaniard. "He means to teach you not to leave your cartabout 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'll go up tothe tower and see how your barrow got there. Thunder and cannon! we'lllend 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 yousee us at the top. "

Fario, Max, Baruch, and three other knights climbed to the foot of thetower. During the rather perilous ascent Max and Fario noticed that nodamage to the embankment, nor even trace of the passage of the barrow, could be seen. Fario began to imagine witchcraft, and lost his head. When they reached the top and examined into the matter, it reallyseemed a thing impossible that the cart had got there. 

"How shall I ever get it down?" said the Spaniard, whose little eyesbegan for the first time to show fear; while his swarthy yellow face, which seemed as it if could never change color, whitened. 

"How?" said Max. "Why, that's not difficult. "

And taking advantage of the Spaniard's stupefaction, he raised thebarrow by the shafts with his robust arms and prepared to fling itdown, calling in thundering tones as it left his grasp, "Look outthere, below!"

No accident happened, for the crowd, persuaded by Francois and eatenup with curiosity, had retired to a distance from which they could seemore clearly what went on at the top of the embankment. The cart wasdashed to an infinite number of pieces in a very picturesque manner. 

"There! you have got it down, " said Baruch. 

"Ah, brigands! ah, scoundrels!" cried Fario; "perhaps it was you whobrought it up here!"

Max, Baruch, and their three comrades began to laugh at the Spaniard'srage. 

"I wanted to do you a service, " said Max coolly, "and in handling thedamned thing I came very near flinging myself after it; and this ishow you thank me, is it? What country do you come from?"

"I come from a country where they never forgive, " replied Fario, trembling with rage. "My cart will be the cab in which you shall driveto 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, Maxtook Fario by the button of his jacket and said to him, --

"Yes, my good Fario, I'll give you a magnificent cart, if you willgive 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 abargain. 

"Damn it!" he said, "give me the wherewithal to replace my barrow, andit will be the best use you ever made of old Rouget's money. "

Max turned livid; he raised his formidable fist to strike Fario; butBaruch, who knew that the blow would descend on others besides theSpaniard, plucked the latter away like a feather and whispered toMax, --

"Don't commit such a folly!"

The grand master, thus called to order, began to laugh and said toFario, --

"If I, by accident, broke your barrow, and you in return try toslander me, we are quits. "

"Not yet, " muttered Fario. "But I am glad to know what my barrow wasworth. "

"Ah, Max, you've found your match!" said a spectator of the scene, whodid not belong to the Order of Idleness. 

"Adieu, Monsieur Gilet. I haven't thanked you yet for lending me ahand, " cried the Spaniard, as he kicked the sides of his horse anddisappeared 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 atree. Max stood by, pale and thoughtful, and deeply annoyed by Fario'sspeech. For five days after this, nothing was talked of in Issoudunbut the tale of the Spaniard's barrow; it was even fated to travelabroad, as Goddet remarked, --for it went the round of Berry, where thespeeches of Fario and Max were repeated, and at the end of a week theaffair, greatly to the Spaniard's satisfaction, was still the talk ofthe three departments and the subject of endless gossip. Inconsequence of the vindictive Spaniard's terrible speech, Max and theRabouilleuse became the object of certain comments which were merelywhispered in Issoudun, though they were spoken aloud in Bourges, Vatan, Vierzon, and Chateauroux. Maxence Gilet knew enough of thatregion of the country to guess how envenomed such comments wouldbecome. 

"We can't stop their tongues, " he said at last. "Ah! I did a foolishthing!"

"Max!" said Francois, taking his arm. "They are coming to-night. "

"They! Who!"

"The Bridaus. My grandmother has just had a letter from hergoddaughter. "

"Listen, my boy, " said Max in a low voice. "I have been thinkingdeeply of this matter. Neither Flore nor I ought to seem opposed tothe Bridaus. If these heirs are to be got rid of, it is for youHochons to drive them out of Issoudun. Find out what sort of peoplethey are. To-morrow at Mere Cognette's, after I've taken theirmeasure, we can decide what is to be done, and how we can set yourgrandfather against them. "

"The Spaniard found the flaw in Max's armor, " said Baruch to hiscousin Francois, as they turned into Monsieur Hochon's house andwatched their comrade entering his own door. 

While Max was thus employed, Flore, in spite of her friend's advice, was unable to restrain her wrath; and without knowing whether shewould help or hinder Max's plans, she burst forth upon the poorbachelor. When Jean-Jacques incurred the anger of his mistress, thelittle attentions and vulgar fondlings which were all his joy weresuddenly suppressed. Flore sent her master, as the children say, intodisgrace. No more tender glances, no more of the caressing littlewords in various tones with which she decked her conversation, --"mykitten, " "my old darling, " "my bibi, " "my rat, " etc. A "you, " cold andsharp and ironically respectful, cut like the blade of a knife throughthe heart of the miserable old bachelor. The "you" was a declarationof war. Instead of helping the poor man with his toilet, handing himwhat he wanted, forestalling his wishes, looking at him with the sortof admiration which all women know how to express, and which, in somecases, the coarser it is the better it pleases, --saying, for instance, "You look as fresh as a rose!" or, "What health you have!" "Howhandsome you are, my old Jean!"--in short, instead of entertaining himwith the lively chatter and broad jokes in which he delighted, Floreleft him to dress alone. If he called her, she answered from the footof the staircase, "I can't do everything at once; how can I look afteryour breakfast and wait upon you up there? Are not you big enough todress your own self?"

"Oh, dear! what have I done to displease her?" the old man askedhimself that morning, as he got one of these rebuffs after calling forhis shaving-water. 

"Vedie, take up the hot water, " cried Flore. 

"Vedie!" exclaimed the poor man, stupefied with fear of the anger thatwas crushing him. "Vedie, what is the matter with Madame thismorning?"

Flore Brazier required her master and Vedie and Kouski and Max to callher Madame. 

"She seems to have heard something about you which isn't to yourcredit, " answered Vedie, assuming an air of deep concern. "You aredoing wrong, monsieur. I'm only a poor servant-woman, and you may sayI have no right to poke my nose into your affairs; but I do say youmay search through all the women in the world, like that king in holyScripture, and you won't find the equal of Madame. You ought to kissthe ground she steps on. Goodness! if you make her unhappy, you'llonly spoil your own life. There she is, poor thing, with her eyes fullof tears. "

Vedie left the poor man utterly cast down; he dropped into an armchairand gazed into vacancy like the melancholy imbecile that he was, andforgot to shave. These alternations of tenderness and severity workedupon this feeble creature whose only life was through his amorousfibre, the same morbid effect which great changes from tropical heatto arctic cold produce upon the human body. It was a moral pleurisy, which wore him out like a physical disease. Flore alone could thusaffect him; for to her, and to her alone, he was as good as he wasfoolish. 

"Well, haven't you shaved yet?" she said, appearing at his door. 

Her sudden presence made the old man start violently; and from beingpale and cast down he grew red for an instant, without, however, daring to complain of her treatment. 

"Your breakfast is waiting, " she added. "You can come down as you are, in dressing-gown and slippers; for you'll breakfast alone, I can tellyou. "

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared. To make him breakfastalone was the punishment he dreaded most; he loved to talk to her ashe ate his meals. When he got to the foot of the staircase he wastaken with a fit of coughing; for emotion excited his catarrh. 

"Cough away!" said Flore in the kitchen, without caring whether heheard her or not. "Confound the old wretch! he is able enough to getover it without bothering others. If he coughs up his soul, it willonly be after--"

Such were the amenities the Rabouilleuse addressed to Rouget when shewas angry. The poor man sat down in deep distress at a corner of thetable in the middle of the room, and looked at his old furniture andthe old pictures with a disconsolate air. 

"You might at least have put on a cravat, " said Flore. "Do you thinkit is pleasant for people to see such a neck as yours, which is redderand 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 hardcountenance. 

"What have you done?" she exclaimed. "As if you didn't know? Oh, whata hypocrite! Your sister Agathe--who is as much your sister as I amsister of the tower of Issoudun, if one's to believe your father, andwho has no claim at all upon you--is coming here from Paris with herson, 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 didn'tsend for them! sewing your lies with white bread, indeed! Don't fashyourself; we won't trouble your Parisians--before they set their feetin this house, we shall have shaken the dust of it off ours. Max and Iwill be gone, never to return. As for your will, I'll tear it inquarters under your nose, and to your very beard--do you hear? Leaveyour property to your family, if you don't think we are your family;and then see if you'll be loved for yourself by a lot of people whohave not seen you for thirty years, --who in fact have never seen you!Is it that sort of sister who can take my place? A pinchbeck saint!"

"If that's all, my little Flore, " said the old man, "I won't receivemy sister, or my nephews. I swear to you this is the first word I haveheard of their coming. It is all got up by that Madame Hochon--asanctimonious old--"

Max, who had overheard old Rouget's words, entered suddenly, and saidin a masterful tone, --

"What's all this?"

"My good Max, " said the old man, glad to get the protection of thesoldier who, by agreement with Flore, always took his side in adispute, "I swear by all that is most sacred, that I now hear thisnews for the first time. I have never written to my sister; my fathermade me promise not to leave her any of my property; to leave it tothe Church sooner than to her. Well, I won't receive my sister Agatheto this house, or her sons--"

"Your father was wrong, my dear Jean-Jacques, and Madame Brazier isstill more wrong, " answered Max. "Your father no doubt had hisreasons, but he is dead, and his hatred should die with him. Yoursister is your sister, and your nephews are your nephews. You owe itto yourself to welcome them, and you owe it to us as well. What wouldpeople say in Issoudun? Thunder! I've got enough upon my shoulders asit is, without hearing people say that we shut you up and don't allowyou a will of your own, or that we influence you against yourrelations and are trying to get hold of your property. The devil takeme if I don't pull up stakes and be off, if that sort of calumny is tobe flung at me! the other is bad enough! Let's eat our breakfast. "

Flore, who was now as mild as a weasel, helped Vedie to set the table. Old Rouget, full of admiration for Max, took him by both hands and ledhim 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 your sister and her son, but notchange 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, andyet 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 onJean-Jacques. 

At the words, the long-drawn face of the poor creature lost itscadaverous tints, the smile of a Theriaki flickered on his pendentlips; but he was seized with another fit of coughing; for the joy ofbeing taken back to favor excited as violent an emotion as thepunishment itself. Flore rose, pulled a little cashmere shawl from herown shoulders, and tied it round the old man's throat, exclaiming:"How silly to put yourself in such a way about nothing. There, you oldgoose, that will do you good; it has been next my heart--"

"What a good creature!" said Rouget to Max, while Flore went to fetcha black velvet cap to cover the nearly bald head of the old bachelor. 

"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 theflashes of Flore's character belong to the sort of realism which apainter ought to leave in shadow. Well! this scene, played again andagain with shocking variations, is, in its coarse way and its horribleveracity, the type of such scenes played by women on whatever rung ofthe social ladder they are perched, when any interest, no matter what, draws them from their own line of obedience and induces them to graspat power. In their eyes, as in those of politicians, all means to anend are justifiable. Between Flore Brazier and a duchess, between aduchess and the richest bourgeoise, between a bourgeoise and the mostluxuriously kept mistress, there are no differences except those ofthe education they have received, and the surroundings in which theylive. The pouting of a fine lady is the same thing as the violence ofa Rabouilleuse. At all levels, bitter sayings, ironical jests, coldcontempt, hypocritical complaints, false quarrels, win as much successas the low outbursts of this Madame Everard of Issoudun. 

Max began to relate, with much humor, the tale of Fario and hisbarrow, which made the old man laugh. Vedie and Kouski, who came tolisten, exploded in the kitchen, and as to Flore, she laughedconvulsively. After breakfast, while Jean-Jacques read the newspapers(for they subscribed to the "Constitutionel" and the "Pandore"), Maxcarried Flore to his own quarters. 

"Are you quite sure he has not made any other will since the one inwhich he left the property to you?"

"He hasn't anything to write with, " she answered. 

"He might have dictated it to some notary, " said Max; "we must lookout for that. Therefore it is well to be cordial to the Bridaus, andat the same time endeavor to turn those mortgages into money. Thenotaries will be only too glad to make the transfers; it is grist totheir mill. The Funds are going up; we shall conquer Spain, anddeliver Ferdinand VII. And the Cortez, and then they will be abovepar. You and I could make a good thing out of it by putting the oldfellow's seven hundred and fifty thousand francs into the Funds ateighty-nine. Only you must try to get it done in your name; it will beso much secured anyhow. "

"A capital idea!" said Flore. 

"And as there will be an income of fifty thousand francs from eighthundred and ninety thousand, we must make him borrow one hundred andforty thousand francs for two years, to be paid back in twoinstalments. In two years, we shall get one hundred thousand francs_in_ Paris, and ninety thousand here, and risk nothing. "

"If it were not for you, my handsome Max, what would become of menow?" she said. 

"Oh! to-morrow night at Mere Cognette's, after I have seen theParisians, I shall find a way to make the Hochons themselves get ridof 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 theupper end the rue Grand Narette, and at the lower the rue PetiteNarette. The word "Narette" is used in Berry to express the same layof the land as the Genoese word "salita" indicates, --that is to say, asteep street. The Grand Narette rises rapidly from the placeSaint-Jean to the port Vilatte. The house of old Monsieur Hochon isexactly opposite that of Jean-Jacques Rouget. From the windows of theroom where Madame Hochon usually sat, it was easy to see what went onat the Rouget household, and vice versa, when the curtains were drawnback or the doors were left open. The Hochon house was like the Rougethouse, and the two were doubtless built by the same architect. Monsieur Hochon, formerly tax-collector at Selles in Berry, born, however, at Issoudun, had returned to his native place and married thesister of the sub-delegate, the gay Lousteau, exchanging his office atSelles for another of the same kind at Issoudun. Having retired before1787, he escaped the dangers of the Revolution, to whose principles, however, he firmly adhered, like all other "honest men" who howl withthe winners. Monsieur Hochon came honestly by the reputation of miser. But it would be mere repetition to sketch him here. A single specimenof the avarice which made him famous will suffice to make you seeMonsieur Hochon as he was. 

At the wedding of his daughter, now dead, who married a Borniche, itwas necessary to give a dinner to the Borniche family. The bridegroom, who was heir to a large fortune, had suffered great mortification fromhaving mismanaged his property, and still more because his father andmother refused to help him out. The old people, who were living at thetime of the marriage, were delighted to see Monsieur Hochon step in asguardian, --for the purpose, of course, of making his daughter's dowrysecure. On the day of the dinner, which was given to celebrate thesigning of the marriage contract, the chief relations of the twofamilies were assembled in the salon, the Hochons on one side, theBorniches on the other, --all in their best clothes. While the contractwas being solemnly read aloud by young Heron, the notary, the cookcame into the room and asked Monsieur Hochon for some twine to trussup the turkey, --an essential feature of the repast. The old man doveinto the pocket of his surtout, pulled out an end of string which hadevidently already served to tie up a parcel, and gave it to her; butbefore she could leave the room he called out, "Gritte, mind you giveit back to me!" (Gritte is the abbreviation used in Berry forMarguerite. )

From year to year old Hochon grew more petty in his meanness, and morepenurious; and at this time he was eighty-five years old. He belongedto the class of men who stop short in the street, in the middle of alively dialogue, and stoop to pick up a pin, remarking, as they stickit in the sleeve of their coat, "There's the wife's stipend. " Hecomplained bitterly of the poor quality of the cloth manufacturednow-a-days, and called attention to the fact that his coat had lastedonly ten years. Tall, gaunt, thin, and sallow; saying little, readinglittle, and doing nothing to fatigue himself; as observant of forms asan oriental, --he enforced in his own house a discipline of strictabstemiousness, weighing and measuring out the food and drink of thefamily, which, indeed, was rather numerous, and consisted of his wife, nee Lousteau, his grandson Borniche with a sister Adolphine, the heirsof old Borniche, and lastly, his other grandson, Francois Hochon. 

Hochon's eldest son was taken by the draft of 1813, which drew in thesons of well-to-do families who had escaped the regular conscription, and were now formed into a corps styled the "guards of honor. " Thisheir-presumptive, who was killed at Hanau, had married early in life arich woman, intending thereby to escape all conscriptions; but afterhe was enrolled, he wasted his substance, under a presentiment of hisend. His wife, who followed the army at a distance, died at Strasburgin 1814, leaving debts which her father-in-law Hochon refused to pay, --answering the creditors with an axiom of ancient law, "Women areminors. "

The house, though large, was scantily furnished; on the second floor, however, there were two rooms suitable 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 natural wood covered withneedlework, and a walnut table, on which figured a water-pitcher ofthe wide-mouthed kind called "gueulard, " standing in a basin with ablue border. The old man kept his winter store of apples and pears, medlars and quinces on heaps of straw in these rooms, where the ratsand mice ran riot, so that they exhaled a mingled odor of fruit andvermin. Madame Hochon now directed that everything should be cleaned;the wall-paper, which had peeled off in places, was fastened up againwith wafers; and she decorated the windows with little curtains whichshe pieced together from old hoards of her own. Her husband havingrefused to let her buy a strip of drugget, she laid down her ownbedside carpet for her little Agathe, --"Poor little thing!" as shecalled the mother, who was now over forty-seven years old. MadameHochon borrowed two night-tables from a neighbor, and boldly hired twochests of drawers with brass handles from a dealer in second-handfurniture who lived next to Mere Cognette. She herself had preservedtwo pairs of candlesticks, carved in choice woods by her own father, who had the "turning" mania. From 1770 to 1780 it was the fashionamong rich people to learn a trade, and Monsieur Lousteau, the father, was a turner, just as Louis XVI. Was a locksmith. These candlestickswere ornamented with circlets made of the roots of rose, peach, andapricot trees. Madame Hochon actually risked the use of her preciousrelics! These preparations and this sacrifice increased old Hochon'sanxiety; up to this time he had not believed in the arrival of theBridaus. 

The morning of the day that was celebrated by the trick on Fario, Madame Hochon said to her husband after breakfast:--

"I hope, Hochon, that you will receive my goddaughter, Madame Bridau, properly. " Then, after making sure that her grandchildren were out ofhearing, she added: "I am mistress of my own property; don't oblige meto make up to Agathe in my will for any incivility on your part. "

"Do you think, madame, " answered Hochon, in a mild voice, "that, at myage, I don't know the forms of decent civility?"

"You know very well what I mean, you crafty old thing! Be friendly toour guests, and remember that I love Agathe. "

"And you love Maxence Gilet also, who is getting the property awayfrom 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 and both Max andAgathe, Hochon turned to leave the room; but old Madame Hochon, awoman still erect and spare, wearing a round cap with ribbon knots andher hair powdered, a taffet petticoat of changeable colors like apigeon'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 repeatabsurdities 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 savethe money he paid for him. You know as well as I do that Madame Rougetwas virtue itself--"

"And the daughter takes after her; for she strikes me as uncommonlystupid. After losing all her fortune, she brings her sons up so wellthat here is one in prison and likely to be brought up on a criminalindictment before the Court of Peers for a conspiracy worthy ofBerton. As for the other, he is worse off; he's a painter. If yourproteges are to stay here till they have extricated that fool of aRouget from the claws of Gilet and the Rabouilleuse, we shall eat agood deal more than half a measure of salt with them. "

"That's enough, Monsieur Hochon; you had better wish they may not havetwo strings to their bow. "

Monsieur Hochon took his hat, and his cane with an ivory knob, andwent away petrified by that terrible speech; for he had no idea thathis wife could show such resolution. Madame Hochon took herprayer-book to read the service, for her advanced age prevented herfrom going daily to church; it was only with difficulty that she gotthere on Sundays and holidays. Since receiving her goddaughter's lettershe had added a petition to her usual prayers, supplicating God to openthe eyes of Jean-Jacques Rouget, and to bless Agathe and prosper theexpedition into which she herself had drawn her. Concealing the factfrom her grandchildren, whom she accused of being "parpaillots, " shehad asked the curate to say a mass for Agathe's success during aneuvaine which was being held by her granddaughter, AdolphineBorniche, who thus made her prayers in church by proxy. 

Adolphine, then eighteen, --who for the last seven years had sewed atthe side of her grandmother in that cold household of monotonous andmethodical customs, --had undertaken her neuvaine all the morewillingly because she hoped to inspire some feeling in Joseph Bridau, in whom she took the deepest interest because of the monstrositieswhich her grandfather attributed in her hearing to the young Parisian. 

All the old people and sensible people of the town, and the fathers offamilies approved of Madame Hochon's conduct in receiving hergoddaughter; and their good wishes for the latter's success were inproportion to the secret contempt with which the conduct of MaxenceGilet had long inspired them. Thus the news of the arrival of Rouget'ssister and nephew raised two parties in Issoudun, --that of the higherand older bourgeoisie, who contented themselves with offering goodwishes and in watching events without assisting them, and that of theKnights of Idleness and the partisans of Max, who, unfortunately, werecapable of committing many high-handed outrages against the Parisians. 

 CHAPTER XI

Agathe and Joseph arrived at the coach-office of theMessageries-Royales in the place Misere at three o'clock. Though tiredwith the journey, Madame Bridau felt her youth revive at sight of hernative land, where at every step she came upon memories and impressionsof her girlish days. In the then condition of public opinion inIssoudun, the arrival of the Parisians was known all over the town inten minutes. Madame Hochon came out upon her doorstep to welcome hergodchild, and kissed her as though she were really a daughter. Afterseventy-two years of a barren and monotonous existence, exhibiting intheir retrospect the graves of her three children, all unhappy intheir lives, and all dead, she had come to feel a sort of fictitiousmotherhood for the young girl whom she had, as she expressed it, carried in her pouch for sixteen years. Through the gloom ofprovincial 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 ledin triumph to the salon where Monsieur Hochon was stationed, chillingas a tepid oven. 

"Here is Monsieur Hochon; how does he seem to you?" asked his wife. 

"Precisely the same as when I last saw him, " said the Parisian woman. 

"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 tallyouth of twenty-two; then Francois Hochon, twenty-four; and lastlylittle Adolphine, who blushed and did not know what to do with herarms; she was anxious not to seem to be looking at Joseph Bridau, whoin his turn was narrowly observed, though from different points ofview, by the two young men and by old Hochon. The miser was saying tohimself, "He is just out of the hospital; he will be as hungry as aconvalescent. " The young men were saying, "What a head! what abrigand! 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 theprison of the Luxembourg. 

"He looks ill, " said Madame Hochon; "he is not at all like you. "

"No, madame, " said Joseph, with the brusque candor of an artist; "I amlike my father, and very ugly at that. "

Madame Hochon pressed Agathe's hand which she was holding, and glancedat her as much as to say, "Ah! my child; I understand now why youprefer your good-for-nothing Philippe. "

"I never saw your father, my dear boy, " she said aloud; "it is enoughto make me love you that you are your mother's son. Besides, you havetalent, so the late Madame Descoings used to write to me; she was theonly one of late years who told me much about you. "

"Talent!" exclaimed the artist, "not as yet; but with time andpatience 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 arebringing in. "

"Hochon, " said the grandmother to Francois, "show the rooms toMonsieur Bridau. "

As the dinner was to be served at four o'clock and it was now onlyhalf past three, Baruch rushed into the town to tell the news of theBridau arrival, describe Agathe's dress, and more particularly topicture Joseph, whose haggard, unhealthy, and determined face was notunlike the ideal of a brigand. That evening Joseph was the topic ofconversation in all the households of Issoudun. 

"That sister of Rouget must have seen a monkey before her son wasborn, " 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 the 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 tomeet 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 amaniac. "

"The fellow looks as though he were capable of anything; perhaps it'shis fault that his brother, a fine handsome man they tell me, has goneto the bad. Poor Madame Bridau doesn't seem as if she were very happywith him. "

"Suppose we take advantage of his being here, and have our portraitspainted?"

The result of all these observations, scattered through the town was, naturally, to excite curiosity. All those who had the right to visitthe Hochons resolved to call that very night and examine theParisians. The arrival of these two persons in the stagnant town waslike the falling of a beam into a community of frogs. 

After stowing his mother's things and his own into the two atticchambers, which he examined as he did so, Joseph took note of thesilent house, where the walls, the stair-case, the wood-work, weredevoid of decoration and humid with frost, and where there wasliterally nothing beyond the merest necessaries. He felt the brusquetransition from his poetic Paris to the dumb and arid province; andwhen, coming downstairs, he chanced to see Monsieur Hochon cuttingslices of bread for each person, he understood, for the first time inhis life, Moliere's Harpagon. 

"We should have done better to go to an inn, " he said to himself. 

The aspect of the dinner confirmed his apprehensions. After a soupwhose watery clearness showed that quantity was more considered thanquality, the bouilli was served, ceremoniously garnished with parsley;the vegetables, in a dish by themselves, being counted into the itemsof the repast. The bouilli held the place of honor in the middle ofthe table, accompanied with three other dishes: hard-boiled eggs onsorrel opposite to the vegetables; then a salad dressed with nut-oilto face little cups of custard, whose flavoring of burnt oats didservice as vanilla, which it resembles much as coffee made of chiccoryresembles mocha. Butter and radishes, in two plates, were at each endof the table; pickled gherkins and horse-radish completed the spread, which won Madam Hochon's approbation. The good old woman gave acontented little nod when she saw that her husband had done thingsproperly, for the first day at least. The old man answered with aglance and a shrug of his shoulders, which it was easy to translateinto--

"See the extravagances you force me to commit!"

As soon as Monsieur Hochon had, as it were, slivered the bouilli intoslices, about as thick as the sole of a dancing-shoe, that dish wasreplaced by another, containing three pigeons. The wine was of thecountry, vintage 1811. On a hint from her grandmother, Adolphine haddecorated 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, atsix o'clock in the morning, on an execrable cup of coffee. When Josephhad eaten up all his bread and asked for more, Monsieur Hochon rose, slowly searched in the pocket of his surtout for a key, unlocked acupboard behind him, broke off a section of a twelve-pound loaf, carefully cut a round of it, then divided the round in two, laid thepieces on a plate, and passed the plate across the table to the youngpainter, with the silence and coolness of an old soldier who says tohimself on the eve of battle, "Well, I can meet death. " Joseph tookthe half-slice, and fully understood that he was not to ask for anymore. No member of the family was the least surprised at thisextraordinary performance. The conversation went on. Agathe learnedthat the house in which she was born, her father's house before heinherited 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 thisevening; we shall have half the town--who want to examine you, " sheadded, turning to Joseph, "and they will all invite you to theirhouses. "

Gritte, who in spite of her sixty years, was the only servant of thehouse, brought in for dessert the famous ripe cheese of Touraine andBerry, made of goat's milk, whose mouldy discolorations so distinctlyreproduce the pattern of the vine-leaves on which it is served, thatTouraine ought to have invented the art of engraving. On either sideof these little cheeses Gritte, with a company air, placed nuts andsome 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 hiscomrades in the atelier; for he suddenly perceived that the parsimonyof eating only the fruits which were beginning to rot had degeneratedinto a settled habit. 

"Bah! we can eat them all the same, " he exclaimed, with the heedlessgayety 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 somepeaches, pears, and Saint Catherine plums. 

"Adolphine, go and gather some grapes, " said Madame Hochon to hergranddaughter. 

Joseph looked at the two young men as much as to say: "Is it to suchhigh living as this that you owe your healthy faces?"

Baruch understood the keen glance and smiled; for he and his cousinHochon were behaving with much discretion. The home-life was of lessimportance to youths who supped three times the week at MereCognette's. Moreover, just before dinner, Baruch had received noticethat the grand master convoked the whole Order at midnight for amagnificent supper, in the course of which a great enterprise would bearranged. The feast of welcome given by old Hochon to his guestsexplains how necessary were the nocturnal repasts at the Cognette's totwo young fellows blessed with good appetites, who, we may add, nevermissed any of them. 

"We will take the liqueur in the salon, " said Madame Hochon, risingand motioning to Joseph to give her his arm. As they went out beforethe others, she whispered to the painter:--

"Eh! my poor boy; this dinner won't give you an indigestion; but I hadhard work to get it for you. It is always Lent here; you will getenough just to keep life in you, and no more. So you must bear itpatiently. "

The kind-heartedness of the old woman, who thus drew her ownpredicament, pleased the artist. 

"I have lived fifty years with that man, without ever hearinghalf-a-dozen gold pieces chink in my purse, " she went on. "Oh! if Idid not hope that you might save your property, I would never havebrought you and your mother into my prison. "

"But how can you survive it?" cried Joseph naively, with the gayetywhich a French artist never loses. 

"Ah, you may well ask!" she said. "I pray. "

Joseph quivered as he heard the words, which raised the old woman somuch in his estimation that he stepped back a little way to look intoher face; it was radiant with so tender a serenity that he said toher, --

"Let me paint your portrait. "

"No, no, " she answered, "I am too weary of life to wish to remain hereon canvas. "

Gayly uttering the sad words, she opened a closet, and brought out aflask containing ratafia, a domestic manufacture of her own, thereceipt for which she obtained from the far-famed nuns to whom is alsodue the celebrated cake of Issoudun, --one of the great creations ofFrench confectionery; which no chef, cook, pastry-cook, orconfectioner has ever been able to reproduce. Monsieur de Riviere, ambassador at Constantinople, ordered enormous quantities every yearfor the Seraglio. 

Adolphine held a lacquer tray on which were a number of little oldglasses with engraved sides and gilt edges; and as her mother filledeach of them, she carried it to the company. 

"It seems as though my father's turn were coming round!" exclaimedAgathe, to whom this immutable provincial custom recalled the scenesof her youth. 

"Hochon will go to his club presently to read the papers, and we shallhave a little time to ourselves, " said the old lady in a low voice. 

In fact, ten minutes later, the three women and Joseph were alone inthe salon, where the floor was never waxed, only swept, and theworsted-work designs in oaken frames with grooved mouldings, and allthe other plain and rather dismal furniture seemed to Madame Bridau tobe in exactly the same state as when she had left Issoudun. Monarchy, Revolution, Empire, and Restoration, which respected little, hadcertainly respected this room where their glories and their disastershad left not the slightest trace. 

"Ah! my godmother, in comparison with your life, mine has been cruellytried, " exclaimed Madame Bridau, surprised to find even a canary whichshe had known when alive, stuffed, and standing on the mantleshelfbetween the old clock, the old brass brackets, and the silvercandlesticks. 

"My child, " said the old lady, "trials are in the heart. The greaterand more necessary the resignation, the harder the struggle with ourown selves. But don't speak of me, let us talk of your affairs. Youare directly in front of the enemy, " she added, pointing to thewindows of the Rouget house. 

"They are sitting down to dinner, " said Adolphine. 

The young girl, destined for a cloister, was constantly looking out ofthe window, in hopes of getting some light upon the enormities imputedto Maxence Gilet, the Rabouilleuse, and Jean-Jacques, of which a fewwords reached her ears whenever she was sent out of the room thatothers might talk about them. The old lady now told her granddaughterto leave her alone with Madame Bridau and Joseph until the arrival ofvisitors. 

"For, " she said, turning to the Parisians, "I know my Issoudun byheart; we shall have ten or twelve batches of inquisitive folk hereto-night. "

In fact Madame Hochon had hardly related the events and the detailsconcerning the astounding influence obtained by Maxence Gilet and theRabouilleuse over Jean-Jacques Rouget (without, of course, followingthe synthetical method with which they have been presented here), adding the many comments, descriptions, and hypotheses with which thegood and evil tongues of the town embroidered them, before Adolphineannounced the approach of the Borniche, Beaussier, Lousteau-Prangin, Fichet, Goddet-Herau families; in all, fourteen persons looming in thedistance. 

"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 thejaws of the wolf--"

"It seems to me so difficult--with a scoundrel such as you representhim, and a daring woman like that crab-girl--as to be actuallyimpossible, " remarked Joseph. "We should have to stay a year inIssoudun to counteract their influence and overthrow their dominionover my uncle. Money isn't worth such a struggle, --not to speak of themeannesses to which we should have to condescend. My mother has onlytwo weeks' leave of absence; her place is a permanent one, and shemust not risk it. As for me, in the month of October I have animportant work, which Schinner has just obtained for me from a peer ofFrance; so you see, madame, my future fortune is in my brushes. "

This speech was received by Madame Hochon with much amazement. Thoughrelatively superior to the town she lived in, the old lady did notbelieve in painting. She glanced at her goddaughter, and again pressedher hand. 

"This Maxence is the second volume of Philippe, " whispered Joseph inhis mother's ear, "--only cleverer and better behaved. Well, madame, "he said, aloud, we won't trouble Monsieur Hochon by staying verylong. "

"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, " said Joseph, "I know I have a perfectly amazingincapacity for domestic statesmanship: for example, I am sure I don'tknow what Desroches himself would tell us to do if my uncle declinesto see us. "

Mesdames Borniche, Goddet-Herau, Beaussier, Lousteau-Prangin andFichet, decorated with their husbands, here entered the room. 

When the fourteen persons were seated, and the usual compliments wereover, Madame Hochon presented her goddaughter Agathe and Joseph. Joseph sat in his armchair all the evening, engaged in slyly studyingthe sixty faces which, from five o'clock until half past nine, posedfor him gratis, as he afterwards told his mother. Such behavior beforethe aristocracy of Issoudun did not tend to change the opinion of thelittle town concerning him: every one went home ruffled by hissarcastic glances, uneasy under his smiles, and even frightened at hisface, which seemed sinister to a class of people unable to recognizethe singularities of genius. 

After ten o'clock, when the household was in bed, Madame Hochon kepther goddaughter in her chamber until midnight. Secure frominterruption, the two women told each other the sorrows of theirlives, and exchanged their sufferings. As Agathe listened to the lastechoes of a soul that had missed its destiny, and felt the sufferingsof a heart, essentially generous and charitable, whose charity andgenerosity could never be exercised, she realized the immensity of thedesert in which the powers of this noble, unrecognized soul had beenwasted, and knew that she herself, with the little joys and interestsof her city life relieving the bitter trials sent from God, was notthe most unhappy of the two. 

"You who are so pious, " she said, "explain to me my shortcomings; tellme what it is that God is punishing in me. "

"He is preparing us, my child, " answered the old woman, "for thestriking of the last hour. "

At midnight the Knights of Idleness were collecting, one by one likeshadows, under the trees of the boulevard Baron, and speaking togetherin whispers. 

"What are we going to do?" was the first question of each as hearrived. 

"I think, " said Francois, "that Max means merely to give us a supper. "

"No; matters are very serious for him, and for the Rabouilleuse: nodoubt, 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 twoextra mouths to feed, and he'd seize on any pretext--"

"Well, comrades!" cried Max softly, now appearing on the scene, "whyare you star-gazing? the planets don't distil kirschwasser. Come, letus go to Mere Cognette's!"

"To Mere Cognette's! To Mere Cognette's!" they all cried. 

The cry, uttered as with one voice, produced a clamor which rangthrough the town like the hurrah of troops rushing to an assault;total silence followed. The next day, more than one inhabitant musthave said to his neighbor: "Did you hear those frightful cries lastnight, about one o'clock? I thought there was surely a firesomewhere. "

A supper worthy of La Cognette brightened the faces of the twenty-twoguests; for the whole Order was present. At two in the morning, asthey were beginning to "siroter" (a word in the vocabulary of theKnights which admirably expresses the act of sipping and tasting thewine in small quantities), Max rose to speak:--

"My dear fellows! the honor of your grand master was grossly attackedthis morning, after our memorable joke with Fario's cart, --attacked bya vile pedler, and what is more, a Spaniard (oh, Cabrera!); and I haveresolved to make the scoundrel feel the weight of my 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 worthputting into execution, --a famous trick, that will drive him crazy. While avenging the insult offered to the Order in my person, we shallbe feeding the sacred animals of the Egyptians, --little beasts whichare, after all, the creatures of God, and which man unjustlypersecutes. Thus we see that good is the child of evil, and evil isthe offspring of good; such is the paramount law of the universe! Inow order you all, on pain of displeasing your very humble grandmaster, to procure clandestinely, each one of you, twenty rats, maleor female as heaven pleases. Collect your contingent within threedays. If you can get more, the surplus will be welcome. Keep theinteresting rodents without food; for it is essential that thedelightful little beasts be ravenous with hunger. Please observe thatI will accept both house-mice and field-mice as rats. If we multiplytwenty-two by twenty, we shall have four hundred; four hundredaccomplices let loose in the old church of the Capuchins, where Fariohas stored all his grain, will consume a not insignificant quantity!But be lively about it! There's no time to lose. Fario is to delivermost of the grain to his customers in a week or so; and I amdetermined that that Spaniard shall find a terrible deficit. Gentlemen, I have not the merit of this invention, " continued Max, observing the signs of general admiration. "Render to Caesar thatwhich is Caesar's, and to God that which is God's. My scheme is only areproduction of Samson's foxes, as related in the Bible. But Samsonwas an incendiary, and therefore no philanthropist; while we, like theBrahmins, are the protectors of a persecuted race. Mademoiselle FloreBrazier has already set all her mouse-traps, and Kouski, my right-arm, is hunting field-mice. I have spoken. "

"I know, " said Goddet, "where to find an animal that's worth fortyrats, himself alone. "

"What's that?"

"A squirrel. "

"I offer a little monkey, " said one of the younger members, "he'llmake himself drunk on wheat. "

"Bad, very bad!" exclaimed Max, "it would show who put the beaststhere. "

"But we might each catch a pigeon some night, " said young Beaussier, "taking them from different farms; if we put them through a hole inthe roof, they'll attract thousands of others. "

"So, then, for the next week, Fario's storehouse is the order of thenight, " cried Max, smiling at Beaussier. "Recollect; people get upearly in Saint-Paterne. Mind, too, that none of you go there withoutturning the soles of your list shoes backward. Knight Beaussier, theinventor of pigeons, is made director. As for me, I shall take care toleave my imprint on the sacks of wheat. Gentlemen, you are, all ofyou, appointed to the commissariat of the Army of Rats. If you find awatchman sleeping in the church, you must manage to make him drunk, --and do it cleverly, --so as to get him far away from the scene of theRodents' Orgy. "

"You don't say anything about the Parisians?" questioned Goddet. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Max, "I want time to study them. Meantime, I offer mybest shotgun--the one the Emperor gave me, a treasure from themanufactory at Versailles--to whoever finds a way to play the Bridausa trick which shall get them into difficulties with Madame andMonsieur 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 herepresent, 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 havemy horse, " added Max. 

After this night twenty brains were tortured to lay a plot againstAgathe and her son, on the basis of Max's programme. But the devilalone, or chance, could really help them to success; for theconditions given made the thing well-nigh impossible. 

The next morning Agathe and Joseph came downstairs just before thesecond breakfast, which took place at ten o'clock. In MonsieurHochon's household the name of first breakfast was given to a cup ofmilk and slice of bread and butter which was taken in bed, or whenrising. While waiting for Madame Hochon, who notwithstanding her agewent minutely through the ceremonies with which the duchesses of LouisXV. 's time performed their toilette, Joseph noticed Jean-JacquesRouget planted squarely on his feet at the door of his house acrossthe street. He naturally pointed him out to his mother, who was unableto recognize her brother, so little did he look like what he was whenshe left him. 

"That is your brother, " said Adolphine, who entered, giving an arm toher grandmother. 

"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 manonly fifty-seven years old?"

She looked attentively at her brother, and saw Flore Brazier standingdirectly behind him, with her hair dressed, a pair of snowy shouldersand a dazzling bosom showing through a gauze neckerchief, which wastrimmed with lace; she was wearing a dress with a tight-fitting waist, made of grenadine (a silk material then much in fashion), withleg-of-mutton sleeves so-called, fastened at the wrists by handsomebracelets. A gold chain rippled over the crab-girl's bosom as sheleaned forward to give Jean-Jacques his black silk cap lest he shouldtake cold. The scene was evidently studied. 

"Hey!" cried Joseph, "there's a fine woman, and a rare one! She ismade, as they say, to paint. What flesh-tints! Oh, the lovely tones!what surface! what curves! Ah, those shoulders! She's a magnificentcaryatide. What a model she would have been for one of Titians'Venuses!"

Adolphine and Madame Hochon thought he was talking Greek; but Agathesigned to them behind his back, as if to say that she was accustomedto such jargon. 

"So you think a creature who is depriving you of your propertyhandsome?" said Madame Hochon. 

"That doesn't prevent her from being a splendid model!--just plumpenough not to spoil the hips and the general contour--"

"My son, you are not in your studio, " said Agathe. "Adolphine ishere. "

"Ah, true! I did wrong. But you must remember that ever since leavingParis I have seen nothing but ugly women--"

"My dear godmother, " said Agathe hastily, "how shall I be able to meetmy brother, if that creature is always with him?"

"Bah!" said Joseph. "I'll go and see him myself. I don't think himsuch an idiot, now I find he has the sense to rejoice his eyes with aTitian's Venus. "

"If he were not an idiot, " said Monsieur Hochon, who had come in, "hewould have married long ago and had children; and then you would haveno chance at the property. It is an ill wind that blows no good. "

"Your son's idea is very good, " said Madame Hochon; "he ought to paythe first visit. He can make his uncle understand that if you callthere he must be alone. "

"That will affront Mademoiselle Brazier, " said old Hochon. "No, no, madame; swallow the pill. If you can't get the whole property, securea small legacy. "

The Hochons were not clever enough to match Max. In the middle ofbreakfast Kouski brought over a letter from Monsieur Rouget, addressedto his sister, Madame Bridau. Madame Hochon made her husband read italoud, as follows:--

 My dear Sister, --I learn from strangers of your arrival 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 I offer my affectionate regrets. I shall be delighted 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 ananswer presently, and the invitations are all accepted, " said MonsieurHochon to the servant. 

The old man laid a finger on his lips, to require silence fromeverybody. When the street-door was shut, Monsieur Hochon, littlesuspecting the intimacy between his grandsons and Max, threw one ofhis slyest looks at his wife and Agathe, remarking, --

"He is just as capable of writing that note as I am of giving awaytwenty-five louis; it is the soldier who is corresponding with us!"

"What does that portend?" asked Madame Hochon. "Well, never mind; wewill answer him. As for you, monsieur, " she added, turning to Joseph, "you must dine there; but if--"

The old lady was stopped short by a look from her husband. Knowing howwarm a friendship she felt for Agathe, old Hochon was in dread lestshe should leave some legacy to her goddaughter in case the latterlost the Rouget property. Though fifteen years older than his wife, the miser hoped to inherit her fortune, and to become eventually thesole master of their whole property. That hope was a fixed idea withhim. Madame Hochon knew that the best means of obtaining a fewconcessions from her husband was to threaten him with her will. Monsieur Hochon now took sides with his guests. An enormous fortunewas at stake; with a sense of social justice, he wished it to go tothe natural heirs, instead of being pillaged by unworthy outsiders. Moreover, the sooner the matter was decided, the sooner he should getrid of his guests. Now that the struggle between the interlopers andthe heirs, hitherto existing only in his wife's mind, had become anactual fact, Monsieur Hochon's keen intelligence, lulled to sleep bythe monotony of provincial life, was fully roused. Madame Hochon hadbeen agreeably surprised that morning to perceive, from a fewaffectionate words which the old man had said to her about Agathe, that so able and subtle an auxiliary was on the Bridau side. 

Towards midday the brains of Monsieur and Madame Hochon, of Agathe, and Joseph (the latter much amazed at the scrupulous care of the oldpeople in the choice of words), were delivered of the followinganswer, concocted solely for the benefit of Max and Flore:--

 My dear Brother, --If I have stayed away from Issoudun, 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 about 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 accusation 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 was 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

"There's the matter started. Now, when you see him, " said MonsieurHochon to Agathe, "you must speak plainly to him about his nephews. "

The letter was carried over by Gritte, who returned ten minutes laterto render an account to her masters of all that she had seen andheard, according to a settled provincial custom. 

"Since yesterday Madame has had the whole house cleaned up, which sheleft--"

"Whom do you mean by Madame?" asked old Hochon. 

"That's what they call the Rabouilleuse over there, " answered Gritte. "She left the salon and all Monsieur Rouget's part of the house in apitiable state; but since yesterday the rooms have been made to looklike what they were before Monsieur Maxence went to live there. Youcan see your face on the floors. La Vedie told me that Kouski went offon horseback at five o'clock this morning, and came back at nine, bringing provisions. It is going to be a grand dinner!--a dinner fitfor the archbishop of Bourges! There's a fine bustle in the kitchen, and they are as busy as bees. The old man says, 'I want to do honor tomy nephew, ' and he pokes his nose into everything. It appears _theRougets_ are highly flattered by the letter. Madame came and told meso. Oh! she had on such a dress! I never saw anything so handsome inmy life. Two diamonds in her ears!--two diamonds that cost, Vedie toldme, 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 fineas an altar-cloth. So then she said to me, 'Monsieur is delighted tofind his sister so amiable, and I hope she will permit us to pay herall the attention she deserves. We shall count on her good opinionafter the welcome we mean to give her son. Monsieur is very impatientto see his nephew. ' Madame had little black satin slippers; and herstockings! my! they were marvels, --flowers in silk and openwork, justlike 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 ofher which, Vedie says, cost more than two years of our wages puttogether. "

"Well done! We shall have to dress up, " said the artist laughing. 

"What do you think of all this, Monsieur Hochon?" said the old ladywhen Gritte had departed. 

Madame Hochon made Agathe observe her husband, who was sitting withhis head in his hands, his elbows on the arms of his chair, plunged inthought. 

"You have to do with a Maitre Bonin!" said the old man at last. "Withyour ideas, young man, " he added, looking at Joseph, "you haven'tforce enough to struggle with a practised scoundrel like MaxenceGilet. 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 your uncle. If, inspite of all your genius, you can't manage it, that in itself willthrow some light upon their scheme. But if you do get a moment alonewith him, out of ear-shot, damn it, you must pull the wool from hiseyes as to the situation those two have put him in, and plead yourmother's cause. "

 CHAPTER XII

At four o'clock, Joseph crossed the open space which separated theRouget house from the Hochon house, --a sort of avenue of weaklylindens, two hundred feet long and of the same width as the rue GrandeNarette. When the nephew arrived, Kouski, in polished boots, blackcloth trousers, white waistcoat, and black coat, announced him. Thetable was set in the large hall, and Joseph, who easily distinguishedhis 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 dearuncle, " said the painter gayly; "but better late than never. "

"You are very welcome, my friend, " said the old man, looking at hisnephew in a dull way. 

"Madame, " Joseph said to Flore with an artist's vivacity, "thismorning I was envying my uncle the pleasure he enjoys in being able toadmire you every day. "

"Isn't she beautiful?" said the old man, whose dim eyes began toshine. 

"Beautiful enough to be the model of a great painter. "

"Nephew, " said Rouget, whose elbow Flore was nudging, "this isMonsieur Maxence Gilet; a man who served the Emperor, like yourbrother, in the Imperial Guard. "

Joseph rose, and bowed. 

"Your brother was in the dragoons, I believe, " said Maxence. "I wasonly a dust-trotter. "

"On foot or on horseback, " said Flore, "you both of you risked yourskins. "

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 young dandies ofthat day dressed themselves. A pair of light-blue cloth trousers, madewith very full plaits, covered his feet so that only the toes and thespurs of his boots were seen. His waist was pinched in by a whitewaistcoat with chased gold buttons, which was laced behind to serve asa belt. The waistcoat, buttoned to the throat, showed off his broadchest, and a black satin stock obliged him to hold his head high, insoldierly fashion. A handsome gold chain hung from a waistcoat pocket, in which the outline of a flat watch was barely seen. He was twistinga watch-key of the kind called a "criquet, " which Breguet had latelyinvented. 

"The fellow is fine-looking, " thought Joseph, admiring with apainter's eye the eager face, the air of strength, and theintellectual gray eyes which Max had inherited from his father, thenoble. "My uncle must be a fearful bore, and that handsome girl takesher compensations. 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 willnot be served for an hour, we will show you the great curiosity of thetown. "

"Gladly, " said the artist, quite incapable of seeing the slightestimpropriety in so doing. 

While Flore went to put on her bonnet, gloves, and cashmere shawl, Joseph suddenly jumped up, as if an enchanter had touched him with hiswand, to look at the pictures. 

"Ah! you have pictures, indeed, uncle!" he said, examining the onethat had caught his eye. 

"Yes, " answered the old man. "They came to us from the Descoings, whobought them during the Revolution, when the convents and churches inBerry were dismantled. "

Joseph was not listening; he was lost in admiration of the pictures. 

"Magnificent!" he cried. "Oh! what painting! that fellow didn't spoilhis 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 werekept 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 theRabouilleuse, 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 couldhear 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 theplace were Joseph was standing in ecstasy before an Albano, "--it seemsthat you are a painter--"

"Only a 'rapin, '" said Joseph. 

"What may that be?" asked Flore. 

"A beginner, " replied Joseph. 

"Well, " continued Jean-Jacques, "if these pictures can be of any useto 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 willput--"

"Well done, uncle!" cried Joseph, enchanted; "I'll make you copies ofthe same dimensions, which you can put into the frames. "

"But that will take your time, and you will want canvas and colors, "said Flore. "You will have to spend money. Come, Pere Rouget, offeryour nephew a hundred francs for each copy; here are twenty-sevenpictures, and I think there are eleven very big ones in the garretwhich ought to cost double, --call the whole four thousand francs. Oh, yes, " she went on, turning to Joseph, "your uncle can well afford topay you four thousand francs for making the copies, since he keeps theframes--but bless me! you'll want frames; and they say frames costmore than pictures; there's more gold on them. Answer, monsieur, " shecontinued, shaking the old man's arm. "Hein? it isn't dear; yournephew will take four thousand francs for new pictures in the place ofthe old ones. It is, " she whispered in his ear, "a very good way togive him four thousand francs; he doesn't look to me very flush--"

"Well, nephew, I will pay you four thousand francs for the copies--"

"No, no!" said the honest Joseph; "four thousand francs and thepictures, that's too much; the pictures, don't you see, arevaluable--"

"Accept, simpleton!" said Flore; "he is your uncle, you know. "

"Very good, I accept, " said Joseph, bewildered by the luck that hadbefallen him; for he had recognized a Perugino. 

The result was that the artist beamed with satisfaction as he went outof the house with the Rabouilleuse on his arm, all of which helpedMaxence's plans immensely. Neither Flore, nor Rouget, nor Max, norindeed any one in Issoudun knew the value of the pictures, and thecrafty Max thought he had bought Flore's triumph for a song, as sheparaded triumphantly before the eyes of the astonished town, leaningon the arm of her master's nephew, and evidently on the best of termswith him. People flocked to their doors to see the crab-girl's triumphover the family. This astounding event made the sensation on which Maxcounted; so that when they all returned at five o'clock, nothing wastalked of in every household but the cordial understanding between Maxand Flore and the nephew of old Rouget. The incident of the picturesand the four thousand francs circulated already. The dinner, at whichLousteau, one of the court judges, and the Mayor of Issoudun werepresent, was splendid. It was one of those provincial dinners lastingfive hours. The most exquisite wines enlivened the conversation. Bynine o'clock, at dessert, the painter, seated opposite to his uncle, and between Flore and Max, had fraternized with the soldier, andthought him the best fellow on earth. Joseph returned home at eleveno'clock somewhat tipsy. As to old Rouget, Kouski had carried him tohis bed dead-drunk; he had eaten as though he were an actor fromforeign parts, and had soaked up the wine like the sands of thedesert. 

"Well, " said Max when he was alone with Flore, "isn't this better thanmaking faces at them? The Bridaus are well received, they get smallpresents, and are smothered with attentions, and the end of it is theywill sing our praises; they will go away satisfied and leave us inpeace. To-morrow morning you and I and Kouski will take down all thosepictures and send them over to the painter, so that he shall see themwhen he wakes up. We will put the frames in the garret, and cover thewalls with one of those varnished papers which represent scenes fromTelemachus, 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 sawthe pictures, which had been brought in while he was asleep, leaningone against another on the opposite wall. While he examined them anew, recognizing each masterpiece, studying the manner of each painter, andsearching for the signature, his mother had gone to see and thank herbrother, urged thereto by old Hochon, who, having heard of the folliesthe painter had committed the night before, almost despaired of theBridau cause. 

"Your adversaries have the cunning of foxes, " he said to Agathe. "Inall my days I never saw a man carry things with such a high hand asthat soldier; they say war educates young men! Joseph has let himselfbe fooled. They have shut his mouth with wine, and those miserablepictures, and four thousand francs! Your artist hasn't cost Maxencemuch!"

The long-headed old man instructed Madame Bridau carefully as to theline of conduct she ought to pursue, --advising her to enter intoMaxence's ideas and cajole Flore, so as to set up a sort of intimacywith her, and thus obtain a few moments' interview with Jean-Jacquesalone. Madame Bridau was very warmly received by her brother, to whomFlore had taught his lesson. The old man was in bed, quite ill fromthe excesses of the night before. As Agathe, under the circumstances, could scarcely begin at once to speak of family matters, Max thoughtit proper and magnanimous to leave the brother and sister alonetogether. The calculation was a good one. Poor Agathe found herbrother so ill that she would not deprive him of Madame Brazier'scare. 

"Besides, " she said to the old bachelor, "I wish to know a person towhom I am grateful for the happiness of my brother. "

These words gave evident pleasure to the old man, who rang for MadameFlore. Flore, as we may well believe, was not far off. The femaleantagonists bowed to each other. The Rabouilleuse showed the mostservile attentions and the utmost tenderness to her master; fanciedhis head was too low, beat up the pillows, and took care of him like abride of yesterday. The poor creature received it with a rush offeeling. 

"We owe you much gratitude, mademoiselle, " said Agathe, "for theproofs of attachment you have so long given to my brother, and for theway in which you watch over his happiness. "

"That is true, my dear Agathe, " said the old man; "she has taught mewhat happiness is; she is a woman of excellent qualities. "

"And therefore, my dear brother, you ought to have recompensedMademoiselle by making her your wife. Yes! I am too sincere in myreligion not to wish to see you obey the precepts of the church. Youwould each be more tranquil in mind if you were not at variance withmorality and the laws. I have come here, dear brother, to ask for helpin my affliction; but do not suppose that we wish to make anyremonstrance as to the manner in which you may dispose of yourproperty--"

"Madame, " said Flore, "we know how unjust your father was to you. Monsieur, here, can tell you, " she went on, looking fixedly at hervictim, "that the only quarrels we have ever had were about you. Ihave always told him that he owes you part of the fortune he receivedfrom his father, and your father, my benefactor, --for he was mybenefactor, " 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 you shall not beforgotten. "

"Don't talk of these things, my dear brother; you do not yet know mynature. "

After such a beginning, it is easy to imagine how the visit went on. Rouget invited his sister to dinner on the next day but one. 

We may here mention that during these three days the Knights ofIdleness captured an immense quantity of rats and mice, which werekept half-famished until they were let loose in the grain one finenight, to the number of four hundred and thirty-six, of which somewere breeding mothers. Not content with providing Fario's store-housewith these boarders, the Knights made holes in the roof of the oldchurch and put in a dozen pigeons, taken from as many different farms. These four-footed and feathered creatures held high revels, --all themore securely because the watchman was enticed away by a fellow whokept him drunk from morning till night, so that he took no care of hismaster's property. 

Madame Bridau believed, contrary to the opinion of old Hochon, thather brother has as yet made no will; she intended asking him what werehis intentions respecting Mademoiselle Brazier, as soon as she couldtake a walk with him alone, --a hope which Flore and Maxence werealways holding out to her, and, of course, always disappointing. 

Meantime the Knights were searching for a way to put the Parisians toflight, and finding none that were not impracticable follies. 

At the end of a week--half the time the Parisians were to stay inIssoudun--the Bridaus were no farther advanced in their object thanwhen they came. 

"Your lawyer does not understand the provinces, " said old Hochon toMadame 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 hereand try to give him some ideas of religion. You cannot countermine thefortifications of Flore and Maxence without getting a priest to sapthem. That is my advice, and it is high time to set about it. "

"You certainly have very singular ideas about the clergy, " said MadameHochon to her husband. 

"Bah!" exclaimed the old man, "that's just like you pious women. "

"God would never bless an enterprise undertaken in a sacrilegiousspirit, " said Madame Bridau. "Use religion for such a purpose! Why, weshould be more criminal than Flore. "

This conversation took place at breakfast, --Francois and Baruchlistening with all their ears. 

"Sacrilege!" exclaimed old Hochon. "If some good abbe, keen as I haveknown many of them to be, knew what a dilemma you are in, he would notthink it sacrilege to bring your brother's lost soul back to God, andcall him to repentance for his sins, by forcing him to send away thewoman who causes the scandal (with a proper provision, of course), andshowing him how to set his conscience at rest by giving a few thousandfrancs a year to the seminary of the archbishop and leaving hisproperty to the rightful heirs. "

The passive obedience which the old miser had always exacted from hischildren, and now from his grandchildren (who were under hisguardianship and for whom he was amassing a small fortune, doing forthem, he said, just as he would for himself), prevented Baruch andFrancois from showing signs of surprise or disapproval; but theyexchanged significant glances expressing how dangerous and fatal sucha scheme would be to Max's interest. 

"The fact is, madame, " said Baruch, "that if you want to secure yourbrother's property, the only sure and true way will be to stay inIssoudun for the necessary length of time--"

"Mother, " said Joseph hastily, "you had better write to Desrochesabout all this. As for me, I ask nothing more than what my uncle hasalready given me. "

After fully recognizing the great value of his thirty-nine pictures, Joseph had carefully unnailed the canvases and fastened paper overthem, gumming it at the edges with ordinary glue; he then laid themone above another in an enormous wooden box, which he sent toDesroches by the carrier's waggon, proposing to write him a letterabout it by post. The precious freight had been sent off the nightbefore. 

"You are satisfied with a pretty poor bargain, " said Monsieur Hochon. 

"I can easily get a hundred and fifty thousand francs for thosepictures, " replied Joseph. 

"Painter's nonsense!" exclaimed old Hochon, giving Joseph a peculiarlook. 

"Mother, " said Joseph, "I am going to write to Desroches and explainto him the state of things here. If he advises you to remain, you hadbetter do so. As for your situation, we can always find you anotherlike it. "

"My dear Joseph, " said Madame Hochon, following him as he left thetable, "I don't know anything about your uncle's pictures, but theyought to be good, judging by the places from which they came. If theyare worth only forty thousand francs, --a thousand francs apiece, --tellno one. Though my grandsons are discreet and well-behaved, they might, without intending harm, speak of this windfall; it would be known allover Issoudun; and it is very important that our adversaries shouldnot suspect it. You behave like a child!"

In fact, before evening many persons in Issoudun, including Max, wereinformed of this estimate, which had the immediate effect of causing asearch for all the old paintings which no one had ever cared for, andthe appearance of many execrable daubs. Max repented having driven theold man into giving away the pictures, and the rage he felt againstthe heirs after hearing from Baruch old Hochon's ecclesiasticalscheme, was increased by what he termed his own stupidity. Theinfluence of religion upon such a feeble creature as Rouget was theone thing to fear. The news brought by his two comrades decidedMaxence Gilet to turn all Rouget's investments into money, and toborrow upon his landed property, so as to buy into the Funds as soonas possible; but he considered it even more important to get rid ofthe Parisians at once. The genius of the Mascarilles and Scapins outtogether would hardly have solved the latter problem easily. 

Flore, acting by Max's advice, pretended that Monsieur was too feebleto take walks, and that he ought, at his age, to have a carriage. Thispretext grew out of the necessity of not exciting inquiry when theywent to Bourges, Vierzon, Chateauroux, Vatan, and all the other placeswhere the project of withdrawing investments obliged Max and Flore tobetake themselves with Rouget. At the close of the week, all Issoudunwas amazed to learn that the old man had gone to Bourges to buy acarriage, --a step which the Knights of Idleness regarded as favorableto the Rabouilleuse. Flore and Max selected a hideous "berlingot, "with cracked leather curtains and windows without glass, agedtwenty-two years and nine campaigns, sold on the decease of a colonel, the friend of grand-marshal Bertrand, who, during the absence of thatfaithful companion of the Emperor, was left in charge of the affairsof Berry. This "berlingot, " painted bright green, was somewhat like acaleche, though shafts had taken the place of a pole, so that it couldbe driven with one horse. It belonged to a class of carriages broughtinto vogue by diminished fortunes, which at that time bore the candidname of "demi-fortune"; at its first introduction it was called a"seringue. " The cloth lining of this demi-fortune, sold under the nameof caleche, was moth-eaten; its gimps looked like the chevrons of anold Invalide; its rusty joints squeaked, --but it only cost fourhundred and fifty francs; and Max bought a good stout mare, trained toharness, from an officer of a regiment then stationed at Bourges. Hehad the carriage repainted a dark brown, and bought a tolerableharness at a bargain. The whole town of Issoudun was shaken to itscentre in expectation of Pere Rouget's equipage; and on the occasionof its first appearance, every household was on its door-step andcurious 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, ifyou prefer it, being ordered to do so by Flore, he went before anotary and signed a power of attorney in favor of Maxence Gilet, enabling him to make all the transfers enumerated in the document. Flore reserved to herself the business of making Monsieur sell out theinvestments in Issoudun and its immediate neighborhood. The principalnotary in Bourges was requested by Rouget to get him a loan of onehundred and forty thousand francs on his landed estate. Nothing wasknown at Issoudun of these proceedings, which were secretly andcleverly carried out. Maxence, who was a good rider, went with his ownhorse to Bourges and back between five in the morning and five in theafternoon. Flore never left the old bachelor. Rouget consented withoutobjection to the action Flore dictated to him; but he insisted thatthe investment in the Funds, producing fifty thousand francs a year, should stand in Flore's name as holding a life-interest only, and inhis as owner of the principal. The tenacity the old man displayed inthe domestic disputes which this idea created caused Max a good dealof anxiety; he thought he could see the result of reflections inspiredby the sight of the natural heirs. 

Amid all these movements, which Max concealed from the knowledge ofeveryone, he forgot the Spaniard and his granary. Fario came back toIssoudun to deliver his corn, after various trips and businessmanoeuvres undertaken to raise the price of cereals. The morning afterhis arrival he noticed that the roof the church of the Capuchins wasblack with pigeons. He cursed himself for having neglected to examineits condition, and hurried over to look into his storehouse, where hefound half his grain devoured. Thousands of mice-marks and rat-marksscattered about showed a second cause of ruin. The church was aNoah's-ark. But anger turned the Spaniard white as a bit of cambricwhen, trying to estimate the extent of the destruction and hisconsequence losses, he noticed that the grain at the bottom of theheap, near the floor, was sprouting from the effects of water, whichMax had managed to introduce by means of tin tubes into the verycentre of the pile of wheat. The pigeons and the rats could beexplained by animal instinct; but the hand of man was plainly visiblein this last sign of malignity. 

Fario sat down on the steps of a chapel altar, holding his headbetween his hands. After half an hour of Spanish reflections, he spiedthe squirrel, which Goddet could not refrain from giving him as aguest, playing with its tail upon a cross-beam, on the middle of whichrested one of the uprights that supported the roof. The Spaniard roseand turned to his watchman with a face that was as calm and cold as anArab's. He made no complaint, but went home, hired laborers to gatherinto sacks what remained of the sound grain, and to spread in the sunall that was moist, so as to save as much as possible; then, afterestimating that his losses amounted to about three fifths, he attendedto filling his orders. But his previous manipulations of the markethad raised the price of cereals, and he lost on the three fifths hewas obliged to buy to fill his orders; so that his losses amountedreally to more than half. The Spaniard, who had no enemies, at onceattributed this revenge to Gilet. He was convinced that Maxence andsome others were the authors of all the nocturnal mischief, and had inall probability carried his cart up the embankment of the tower, andnow intended to amuse themselves by ruining him. It was a matter tohim of over three thousand francs, --very nearly the whole capital hehad scraped together since the peace. Driven by the desire forvengeance, the man now displayed the cunning and stealthy persistenceof a detective to whom a large reward is offered. Hiding at night indifferent parts of Issoudun, he soon acquired proof of the proceedingsof the Knights of Idleness; he saw them all, counted them, watchedtheir rendezvous, and knew of their suppers at Mere Cognette's; afterthat he lay in wait to witness one of their deeds, and thus becamewell informed as to their nocturnal habits. 

In spite of Max's journeys and pre-occupations, he had no intention ofneglecting his nightly employments, --first, because he did not wishhis comrades to suspect the secret of his operations with PereRouget's property; and secondly, to keep the Knights well in hand. They were therefore convened for the preparation of a prank whichmight deserve to be talked of for years to come. Poisoned meat was tobe thrown on a given night to every watch-dog in the town and in theenvirons. Fario overheard them congratulating each other, as they cameout from a supper at the Cognettes', on the probable success of theperformance, and laughing over the general mourning that would followthis novel massacre of the innocents, --revelling, moreover, in theapprehensions it would excite as to the sinister object of deprivingall 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 suspicions; besides, hismind was already made up. 

After three weeks' stay in Issoudun, Agathe was convinced, and so wasMadame Hochon, of the truth of the old miser's observation, that itwould take years to destroy the influence which Max and theRabouilleuse had acquired over her brother. She had made no progressin Jean-Jacques's confidence, and she was never left alone with him. On the other hand, Mademoiselle Brazier triumphed openly over theheirs by taking Agathe to drive in the caleche, sitting beside her onthe back seat, while Monsieur Rouget and his nephew occupied thefront. Mother and son impatiently awaited an answer to theconfidential letter they had written to Desroches. The day before thenight on which the dogs were to be poisoned, Joseph, who was nearlybored to death in Issoudun, received two letters: the first from thegreat painter Schinner, --whose age allowed him a closer intimacy thanJoseph could have with Gros, their master, --and the second fromDesroches. 

Here is the first, postmarked Beaumont-sur-Oise:--

 My dear Joseph, --I have just finished the principal 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 Gridot 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 Jojo, I know your picture is a masterpiece, but a masterpiece which will rouse a hue and cry about romanticism; 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 Issoudun 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 no 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 calibre. 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 Issoudun. Monsieur Hochon, acting 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, careful 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 mortgaged, 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 its 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 MonsieurHochon, proud of being himself appreciated by a Parisian lawyer. 

"Oh! Desroches is a famous fellow, " answered Joseph. 

"It would be well to read that letter to the two women, " said the oldman. 

"There it is, " said Joseph, giving it to him; "as to me, I want to beoff to-morrow; and I am now going to say good-by to my uncle. "

"Ah!" said Monsieur Hochon, "I see that Monsieur Desroches tells youin 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 only come to saygood-by. "

"You are going?" said Max, exchanging glances with Flore. 

"Yes; I have some work to do at the chateau of Monsieur de Serizy, andI am all the more glad of it because his arm is long enough to do aservice to my poor brother in the Chamber of Peers. "

"Well, well, go and work"; said old Rouget, with a silly air. Josephthought 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 Rabouilleuse observed, andwhich 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 ofmaking your acquaintance and you have enriched my studio--"

"Yes, " said Flore, "instead of enlightening your uncle on the value ofhis pictures, which is now estimated at over one hundred thousandfrancs, 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 littletreasure at Bourges, --what did they call it? a Poussin, --which was inthe choir of the cathedral before the Revolution and is now worth, allby itself, thirty thousand francs. "

"That was not right of you, my nephew, " said Jean-Jacques, at a signfrom Max, which Joseph could not see. 

"Come now, frankly, " said the soldier, laughing, "on your honor, whatshould you say those pictures were worth? You've made an easy haul outof your uncle! and right enough, too, --uncles are made to be pillaged. Nature deprived me of uncles, but damn it, if I'd had any I shouldhave shown them no mercy. "

"Did you know, monsieur, " said Flore to Rouget, "what _your_ pictureswere 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. "

"They say you estimated them to Monsieur Hochon at one hundred andfifty thousand francs, " said Flore; "is that true?"

"Yes, " said the painter, with childlike honesty. 

"And did you intend, " said Flore to the old man, "to give a hundredand fifty thousand francs to your nephew?"

"Never, never!" cried Jean-Jacques, on whom Flore had fixed her eye. 

"There is one way to settle all this, " said the painter, "and that isto return them to you, uncle. "

"No, no, keep them, " said the old man. 

"I shall send them back to you, " said Joseph, wounded by the offensivesilence of Max and Flore. "There is something in my brushes which willmake my fortune, without owing anything to any one, even an uncle. Myrespects to you, mademoiselle; good-day, monsieur--"

And Joseph crossed the square in a state of irritation which artistscan imagine. The entire Hochon family were in the salon. When they sawJoseph gesticulating and talking to himself, they asked him what wasthe matter. The painter, who was as open as the day, related beforeBaruch and Francois the scene that had just taken place; and which, two hours later, thanks to the two young men, was the talk of thewhole town, embroidered with various circumstances that were more orless ridiculous. Some persons insisted that the painter was maltreatedby Max; others that he had misbehaved to Flore, and that Max hadturned him out of doors. 

"What a child your son is!" said Hochon to Madame Bridau; "the boobyis the dupe of a scene which they have been keeping back for the lastday of his visit. Max and the Rabouilleuse have known the value ofthose pictures for the last two weeks, --ever since he had the folly totell it before my grandsons, who never rested till they had blurted itout to all the world. Your artist had better have taken himself offwithout taking leave. "

"My son has done right to return the pictures if they are really sovaluable, " said Agathe. 

"If they are worth, as he says, two hundred thousand francs, " said oldHochon, "it was folly to put himself in the way of being obliged toreturn them. You might have had that, at least, out of the property;whereas, as things are going now, you won't get anything. And thisscene with Joseph is almost a reason why your brother should refuse tosee you again. "

 CHAPTER XIII

Between midnight and one o'clock, the Knights of Idleness began theirgratuitous distribution of comestibles to the dogs of the town. Thismemorable expedition was not over till three in the morning, the hourat which these reprobates went to sup at Cognette's. At half-pastfour, in the early dawn, they crept home. Just as Max turned thecorner of the rue l'Avenier into the Grande rue, Fario, who stoodambushed 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 knifeon his handkerchief. The Spaniard washed the handkerchief in theRiviere 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 by his new watchman, who found him fast asleep. 

As he fell, Max uttered a fearful cry which no one could mistake. Lousteau-Prangin, son of a judge, a distant relation to the family ofthe sub-delegate, and young Goddet, who lived at the lower end of theGrande 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 alarmsof these nightly prowlers, stayed quietly in their beds. When his twocomrades reached him, Max had fainted. It was necessary to rouseMonsieur Goddet, the surgeon. Max had recognized Fario; but when hecame to his senses, with several persons about him, and felt that hiswound was not mortal, it suddenly occurred to him to make capital outof 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 wascarried home by Cognette, young Goddet, and two other persons. MereCognette and Monsieur Goddet walked beside the stretcher. Those whocarried the wounded man naturally looked across at Monsieur Hochon'sdoor while waiting for Kouski to let them in, and saw MonsieurHochon's servant sweeping the steps. At the old miser's, as everywhereelse in the provinces, the household was early astir. The few wordsuttered by Max had roused the suspicions of Monsieur Goddet, and hecalled to the woman, --

"Gritte, is Monsieur Joseph Bridau in bed?"

"Bless me!" she said, "he went out at half-past four. I don't knowwhat ailed him; he walked up and down his room all night. "

This simple answer drew forth such exclamations of horror that thewoman came over, curious to know what they were carrying to oldRouget'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 withamazement at the sight of Max in his bloody shirt, stretchedhalf-fainting on a mattress. 

Artists will readily guess what ailed Joseph, and kept him restlessall night. He imagined the tale the bourgeoisie of Issoudun would tellof him. They would say he had fleeced his uncle; that he waseverything but what he had tried to be, --a loyal fellow and an honestartist! Ah! he would have given his great picture to have flown like aswallow to Paris, and thrown his uncle's paintings at Max's nose. Tobe the one robbed, and to be thought the robber!--what irony! So atthe earliest dawn, he had started for the poplar avenue which led toTivoli, to give free course to his agitation. 

While the innocent fellow was vowing, by way of consolation, never toreturn to Issoudun, Max was preparing a horrible outrage for hissensitive spirit. When Monsieur Goddet had probed the wound anddiscovered that the knife, turned aside by a little pocket-book, hadhappily spared Max's life (though making a serious wound), he did asall doctors, and particularly country surgeons, do; he paved the wayfor his own credit by "not answering for the patient's life"; andthen, after dressing the soldier's wound, and stating the verdict ofscience to the Rabouilleuse, Jean-Jacques Rouget, Kouski, and theVedie, he left the house. The Rabouilleuse came in tears to her dearMax, while Kouski and the Vedie told the assembled crowd that thecaptain was in a fair way to die. The news brought nearly two hundredpersons 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'll profit by it to get rid of theParisians. I have said I thought I recognized the painter; so pretendthat I am expected to die, and try to have Joseph Bridau arrested. Lethim taste a prison for a couple of days, and I know well enough themother will be off in a jiffy for Paris when she gets him out. Andthen we needn't fear the priests they talk of setting on the oldfool. "

When Flore Brazier came downstairs, she found the assembled crowdquite prepared to take the impression she meant to give them. She wentout with tears in her eyes, and related, sobbing, how the painter, "who had just the face for that sort of thing, " had been angry withMax the night before about some pictures he had "wormed out" of PereRouget. 

"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! Maxis Doctor Rouget's son. The old one told me so before he died!"

"Ah! he meant to do the deed just before he left Issoudun; he chosehis time, for he was going away to-day, " said one of the Knights ofIdleness. 

"Max hasn't an enemy in Issoudun, " said another. 

"Besides, Max recognized the painter, " said the Rabouilleuse. 

"Where's that cursed Parisian? Let us find him!" they all cried. 

"Find him?" was the answer, "why, he left Monsieur Hochon's atdaybreak. "

A Knight of Idleness ran off at once to Monsieur Mouilleron. The crowdincreased; and the tumult became threatening. Excited groups filled upthe whole of the Grande-Narette. Others stationed themselves beforethe church of Saint-Jean. An assemblage gathered at the porte Vilatte, which is at the farther end of the Petite-Narette. MonsieurLousteau-Prangin and Monsieur Mouilleron, the commissary of police, the lieutenant of gendarmes, and two of his men, had some difficultyin reaching the place Saint-Jean through two hedges of people, whosecries and exclamations could and did prejudice them against theParisian; 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, MonsieurMouilleron sent the commissary of police and a sergeant with onegendarme to examine what, in the language of the ministry of theinterior, is called "the theatre of the crime. " Then MessieursMouilleron and Lousteau-Prangin, accompanied by the lieutenant ofgendarmes crossed over to the Hochon house, which was now guarded bytwo gendarmes in the garden and two at the front door. The crowd wasstill increasing. The whole town was surging in the Grande rue. 

Gritte had rushed terrified to her master, crying out: "Monsieur, weshall be pillaged! the town is in revolt; Monsieur Maxence Gilet hasbeen assassinated; he is dying! and they say it is Monsieur Joseph whohas done it!"

Monsieur Hochon dressed quickly, and came downstairs; but seeing theangry populace, he hastily retreated within the house, and bolted thedoor. On questioning Gritte, he learned that his guest had left thehouse at daybreak, after walking the floor all night in greatagitation, and had not yet come in. Much alarmed, he went to findMadame Hochon, who was already awakened by the noise, and to whom hetold the frightful news which, true or false, was causing almost ariot in Issoudun. 

"He is innocent, of course, " said Madame Hochon. 

"Before his innocence can be proved, the crowd may get in here andpillage us, " said Monsieur Hochon, livid with fear, for he had gold inhis cellar. 

"Where is Agathe?"

"Sound asleep. "

"Ah! so much the better, " said Madame Hochon. "I wish she may sleep ontill the matter is cleared up. Such a shock might kill the poorchild. "

But Agathe woke up and came down half-dressed; for the evasive answersof Gritte, whom she questioned, had disturbed both her head and heart. She found Madame Hochon, looking very pale, with her eyes full oftears, at one of the windows of the salon beside her husband. 

"Courage, my child. God sends us our afflictions, " said the old lady. "Joseph is accused--"

"Of what?"

"Of a bad action which he could never have committed, " answered MadameHochon. 

Hearing the words, and seeing the lieutenant of gendarmes, who at thismoment entered the room accompanied by the two gentlemen, Agathefainted away. 

"There now!" said Monsieur Hochon to his wife and Gritte, "carry offMadame Bridau; women are only in the way at these times. Take her toher room and stay there, both of you. Sit down, gentlemen, " continuedthe old man. "The mistake to which we owe your visit will soon, Ihope, be cleared up. "

"Even if it should be a mistake, " said Monsieur Mouilleron, "theexcitement of the crowd is so great, and their minds are soexasperated, that I fear for the safety of the accused. I should liketo get him arrested, and that might satisfy these people. "

"Who would ever have believed that Monsieur Maxence Gilet had inspiredso much affection in this town?" asked Lousteau-Prangin. 

"One of my men says there's a crowd of twelve hundred more just comingin from the faubourg de Rome, " said the lieutenant of gendarmes, "andthey are threatening death to the assassin. "

"Where is your guest?" said Monsieur Mouilleron to Monsieur Hochon. 

"He has gone to walk in the country, I believe. "

"Call Gritte, " said the judge gravely. "I was in hopes he had not leftthe house. You are aware that the crime was committed not far fromhere, at daybreak. "

While Monsieur Hochon went to find Gritte, the three functionarieslooked at each other significantly. 

"I never liked that painter's face, " said the lieutenant to MonsieurMouilleron. 

"My good woman, " said the judge to Gritte, when she appeared, "theysay you 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 wasdressed when I came downstairs. "

"Was it daylight?"

"Barely. "

"Did he seem excited?"

"Yes, he was all of a twitter. "

"Send one of your men for my clerk, " said Lousteau-Prangin to thelieutenant, "and tell him to bring warrants with him--"

"Good God! don't be in such a hurry, " cried Monsieur Hochon. "Theyoung man's agitation may have been caused by something besides thepremeditation of this crime. He meant to return to Paris to-day, toattend to a matter in which Gilet and Mademoiselle Brazier had doubtedhis honor. "

"Yes, the affair of the pictures, " said Monsieur Mouilleron. "Thosepictures caused a very hot quarrel between them yesterday, and it is aword and a blow with artists, they tell me. "

"Who is there in Issoudun who had any object in killing Gilet?" saidLousteau. "No one, --neither a jealous husband nor anybody else; forthe fellow has never harmed a soul. "

"But what was Monsieur Gilet doing in the streets at four in themorning?" remarked Monsieur Hochon. 

"Now, Monsieur Hochon, you must allow us to manage this affair in ourown way, " answered Mouilleron; "you don't know all: Gilet recognizedyour 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 followedthe 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 thepopulace. Poor Joseph, returning quietly past the mill at Landroleintending to get home in time for breakfast, was spied by the variousgroups of people, as soon as he reached the place Misere. Happily forhim, a couple of gendarmes arrived on a run in time to snatch him fromthe inhabitants of the faubourg de Rome, who had already pinioned himby the arms and were threatening him with death. 

"Give way! give way!" cried the gendarmes, calling to some of theircomrades to help them, and putting themselves one before and the otherbehind Bridau. 

"You see, monsieur, " said the one who held the painter, "it concernsour skin as well as yours at this moment. Innocent or guilty, we mustprotect you against the tumult raised by the murder of Captain Gilet. And the crowd is not satisfied with suspecting you; they declare, hardas iron, that you are the murderer. Monsieur Gilet is adored by allthe people, who--look at them!--want to take justice into their ownhands. Ah! didn't we see them, in 1830, dusting the jackets of thetax-gatherers? whose life isn't a bed of roses, anyway!"

Joseph Bridau grew pale as death, and collected all his strength towalk onward. 

"After all, " he said, "I am innocent. Go on!"

Poor artist! he was forced to bear his cross. Amid the hooting andinsults and threats from the mob, he made the dreadful transit fromthe place Misere to the place Saint-Jean. The gendarmes were obligedto draw their sabres on the furious mob, which pelted them withstones. One of the officers was wounded, and Joseph received severalof the missiles on his legs, and shoulders, and hat. 

"Here we are!" said one of the gendarmes, as they entered MonsieurHochon's hall, "and not without difficulty, lieutenant. "

"We must now manage to disperse the crowd; and I see but one way, gentlemen, " said the lieutenant to the magistrates. "We must takeMonsieur Bridau to the Palais accompanied by all of you; I and mygendarmes will make a circle round you. One can't answer for anythingin presence of a furious crowd of six thousand--"

"You are right, " said Monsieur Hochon, who was trembling all the whilefor his gold. 

"If that's your only way to protect innocence in Issoudun, " saidJoseph, "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 ofpeople who are pushed from behind by an angry populace that knowsnothing of the forms of justice?"

"That will do, gentlemen, let us go; we can come to explanationslater, " said Joseph, who had recovered his self-possession. 

"Give way, friends!" said the lieutenant to the crowd; "_He_ isarrested, 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 thegendarmes to an angry group. 

"Yes, yes, they shall guillotine him!" shouted one madman. 

"They are going to guillotine him!" cried the women. 

By the time they reached the end of the Grande-Narette the crowd wereshouting: "They are taking him to the guillotine!" "They found theknife upon him!" "That's what Parisians are!" "He carries crime on hisface!"

Though all Joseph's blood had flown to his head, he walked thedistance from the place Saint-Jean to the Palais with remarkablecalmness and self-possession. Nevertheless, he was very glad to findhimself in the private office of Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin. 

"I need hardly tell you, gentlemen, that I am innocent, " said Joseph, addressing Monsieur Mouilleron, Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin, and theclerk. "I can only beg you to assist me in proving my innocence. Iknow nothing of this affair. "

When the judge had stated all the suspicious facts which were againsthim, ending with Max's declaration, Joseph was astounded. 

"But, " said he, "it was past five o'clock when I left the house. Iwent up the Grande rue, and at half-past five I was standing lookingup at the facade of the parish church of Saint-Cyr. I talked therewith the sexton, who came to ring the angelus, and asked him forinformation about the building, which seems to me fantastic andincomplete. Then I passed through the vegetable-market, where somewomen had already assembled. From there, crossing the place Misere, Iwent as far as the mill of Landrole by the Pont aux Anes, where Iwatched the ducks for five or six minutes, and the miller's men musthave noticed me. I saw the women going to wash; they are probablystill there. They made a little fun of me, and declared that I was nothandsome; I told them it was not all gold that glittered. From there, I followed the long avenue to Tivoli, where I talked with thegardener. 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 thisoffice till you are convinced of my innocence. "

These sensible words, said without the least hesitation, and with theease of a man who is perfectly sure of his facts, made some impressionon the magistrates. 

"Yes, we must find all these persons and summon them, " said MonsieurMouilleron; "but it is more than the affair of a day. Make up yourmind, therefore, in your own interests, to be imprisoned in thePalais. "

"Provided I can write to my mother, so as to reassure her, poor woman--oh! you can read the letter, " he added. 

This request was too just not to be granted, and Joseph wrote thefollowing letter:--

 "Do not be uneasy, dear mother; the mistake of which I 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 nervousattack, and the potions which Monsieur Goddet was trying to make herswallow were powerless to soothe her. The reading of the letter actedlike balm; after a few quiverings, Agathe subsided into the depressionwhich always follows such attacks. Later, when Monsieur Goddetreturned to his patient he found her regretting that she had everquitted Paris. 

"Well, " said Madame Hochon to Monsieur Goddet, "how is MonsieurGilet?"

"His wound, though serious, is not mortal, " replied the doctor. "Witha month's nursing he will be all right. I left him writing to MonsieurMouilleron to request him to set your son at liberty, madame, " headded, turning to Agathe. "Oh! Max is a fine fellow. I told him what astate you were in, and he then remembered a circumstance which goes toprove that the assassin was not your son; the man wore list shoes, whereas it is certain that Monsieur Joseph left the house in hisboots--"

"Ah! God forgive him the harm he has done me--"

The fact was, a man had left a note for Max, after dark, written intype-letters, which ran as follows:--

 "Captain Gilet ought not to let an innocent man suffer. He 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 MonsieurMouilleron stating the circumstance of the list shoes, as reported byMonsieur Goddet, begging him to set Joseph at liberty, and to come andsee him that he might explain the matter more at length. 

By the time this letter was received, Monsieur Lousteau-Prangin hadverified, by the testimony of the bell-ringer, the market-women andwasherwomen, and the miller's men, the truth of Joseph's explanation. Max's letter made his innocence only the more certain, and MonsieurMouilleron himself escorted him back to the Hochons'. Joseph wasgreeted with such overflowing tenderness by his mother that the poormisunderstood son gave thanks to ill-luck--like the husband to thethief, in La Fontaine's fable--for a mishap which brought him suchproofs of affection. 

"Oh, " said Monsieur Mouilleron, with a self-satisfied air, "I knew atonce 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 alsoknow that the only way to protect you was to make the arrest as wedid. Ah! you carried your head high. "

"I was thinking of something else, " said the artist simply. "Anofficer in the army told me that he was once stopped in Dalmatia undersimilar circumstances by an excited populace, in the early morning ashe was returning from a walk. This recollection came into my mind, andI looked at all those heads with the idea of painting a revolt of theyear 1793. Besides, I kept saying to myself: Blackguard that I am! Ihave only got my deserts for coming here to look after an inheritance, instead of painting in my studio. "

"If you will allow me to offer you a piece of advice, " said theprocureur du roi, "you will take a carriage to-night, which thepostmaster will lend you, and return to Paris by the diligence fromBourges. "

"That is my advice also, " said Monsieur Hochon, who was burning with adesire for the departure of his guests. 

"My most earnest wish is to get away from Issoudun, though I leave myonly friend here, " said Agathe, kissing Madame Hochon's hand. "Whenshall I see you again?"

"Ah! my dear, never until we meet above. We have suffered enough herebelow, " she added in a low voice, "for God to take pity upon us. "

Shortly after, while Monsieur Mouilleron had gone across the way totalk with Max, Gritte greatly astonished Monsieur and Madame Hochon, Agathe, Joseph, and Adolphine by announcing the visit of MonsieurRouget. Jean-Jacques came to bid his sister good-by, and to offer herhis 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 believein their value. 

"Neighbor, " remarked Monsieur Hochon, "our best friends, our surestdefenders, are our own relations; above all, when they are such asyour sister Agathe, and your nephew Joseph. "

"Perhaps so, " said old Rouget in his dull way. 

"We ought all to think of ending our days in a Christian manner, " saidMadame Hochon. 

"Ah! Jean-Jacques, " said Agathe, "what a day this has been!"

"Will you accept my carriage?" asked Rouget. 

"No, brother, " answered Madame Bridau, "I thank you, and wish youhealth and comfort. "

Rouget let his sister and nephew kiss him, and then he went awaywithout manifesting any feeling himself. Baruch, at a hint from hisgrandfather, had been to see the postmaster. At eleven o'clock thatnight, the two Parisians, ensconced in a wicker cabriolet drawn by onehorse and ridden by a postilion, quitted Issoudun. Adolphine andMadame Hochon parted from them with tears in their eyes; they aloneregretted Joseph and Agathe. 

"They are gone!" said Francois Hochon, going, with the Rabouilleuse, into Max's bedroom. 

"Well done! the trick succeeded, " answered Max, who was now tired andfeverish. 

"But what did you say to old Mouilleron?" asked Francois. 

"I told him that I had given my assassin some cause to waylay me; thathe was a dangerous man and likely, if I followed up the affair, tokill me like a dog before he could be captured. Consequently, I beggedMouilleron and Prangin to make the most active search ostensibly, butreally to let the assassin go in peace, unless they wished to see me adead man. "

"I do hope, Max, " said Flore, "that you will be quiet at night forsome time to come. "

"At any rate, we are delivered from the Parisians!" cried Max. "Thefellow who stabbed me had no idea what a service he was doing us. "

The next day, the departure of the Parisians was celebrated as avictory of the provinces over Paris by every one in Issoudun, exceptthe more sober and staid inhabitants, who shared the opinions ofMonsieur and Madame Hochon. A few of Max's friends spoke very harshlyof the Bridaus. 

"Do those Parisians fancy we are all idiots, " cried one, "and thinkthey have only got to hold their hats and catch legacies?"

"They came to fleece, but they have got shorn themselves, " saidanother; "the nephew is not to the uncle's taste. "

"And, if you please, they actually consulted a lawyer in Paris--"

"Ah! had they really a plan?"

"Why, of course, --a plan to get possession of old Rouget. But theParisians were not clever enough; that lawyer can't crow over usBerrichons!"

"How abominable!"

"That's Paris for you!"

"The Rabouilleuse knew they came to attack her, and she defendedherself. "

"She did gloriously right!"

To the townspeople at large the Bridaus were Parisians and foreigners;they preferred Max and Flore. 

We can imagine the satisfaction with which, after this campaign, Joseph and Agathe re-entered their little lodging in the rue Mazarin. On the journey, the artist recovered his spirits, which had, notunnaturally, been put to flight by his arrest and twenty-four hours'confinement; but he could not cheer up his mother. The Court of Peerswas about to begin the trial of the military conspirators, and thatwas sufficient to keep Agathe from recovering her peace of mind. Philippe's conduct, in spite of the clever defender whom Desrochesrecommended to him, roused suspicions that were unfavorable to hischaracter. In view of this, Joseph, as soon as he had put Desroches inpossession of all that was going on at Issoudun, started withMistigris for the chateau of the Comte de Serizy, to escape hearingabout the trial of the conspirators, which lasted for twenty days. 

It is useless to record facts that may be found in contemporaneoushistories. Whether it were that he played a part previously agreedupon, or that he was really an informer, Philippe was condemned tofive years' surveillance by the police department, and ordered toleave Paris the same day for Autun, the town which thedirector-general of police selected as the place of his exile for fiveyears. This punishment resembled the detention of prisoners on parolewho have a town for a prison. Learning that the Comte de Serizy, one ofthe peers appointed by the Chamber on the court-martial, was employingJoseph to decorate his chateau at Presles, Desroches begged theminister to grant him an audience, and found Monsieur de Serizy mostamiably disposed toward Joseph, with whom he had happened to makepersonal acquaintance. Desroches explained the financial condition ofthe two brothers, recalling the services of the father, and theneglect shown to them under the Restoration. 

"Such injustice, monseigneur, " said the lawyer, "is a lasting cause ofirritation and discontent. You knew the father; give the sons achance, at least, of making a fortune--"

And he drew a succinct picture of the situation of the family affairsat Issoudun, begging the all-powerful vice-president of the Council ofState to take steps to induce the director-general of police to changePhilippe's place of residence from Autun to Issoudun. He also spoke ofPhilippe'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, togrant to a former lieutenant-colonel. 

"I will obtain all you ask of me, for I think it just, " replied thecount. 

Three days later, Desroches, furnished with the necessary authority, fetched Philippe from the prison of the Court of Peers, and took himto his own house, rue de Bethizy. Once there, the young barrister readthe miserable vagabond one of those unanswerable lectures in whichlawyers rate things at their actual value; using plain terms toqualify the conduct, and to analyze and reduce to their simplestmeaning the sentiments and ideas of clients toward whom they feelenough interest to speak plainly. After humbling the Emperor'sstaff-officer by reproaching him with his reckless dissipations, hismother's misfortunes, and the death of Madame Descoings, he went on totell him the state of things at Issoudun, explaining it according tohis lights, and probing both the scheme and the character of MaxenceGilet and the Rabouilleuse to their depths. Philippe, who was giftedwith a keen comprehension in such directions, listened with much moreinterest to this part of Desroches's lecture than to what had gonebefore. 

"Under these circumstances, " continued the lawyer, "you can repair theinjury you have done to your estimable family, --so far at least as itis reparable; for you cannot restore life to the poor mother you haveall but killed. But you alone can--"

"What can I do?" asked Philippe. 

"I have obtained a change of residence for you from Autun toIssoudun. --"

Philippe's sunken face, which had grown almost sinister in expressionand was furrowed with sufferings and privation, instantly lighted upwith a flash of joy. 

"And, as I was saying, you alone can recover the inheritance of oldRouget's property; half of which may by this time be in the jaws ofthe wolf named Gilet, " replied Desroches. "You now know all theparticulars, and it is for you to act accordingly. I suggest no plan;I have no ideas at all as to that; besides, everything will depend onlocal circumstances. You have to deal with a strong force; that fellowis very astute. The way he attempted to get back the pictures youruncle had given to Joseph, the audacity with which he laid a crime onyour poor brother's shoulders, all go to prove that the adversary iscapable of everything. Therefore, be prudent; and try to behaveproperly out of policy, if you can't do so out of decency. Withouttelling Joseph, whose artist's pride would be up in arms, I have sentthe pictures to Monsieur Hochon, telling him to give them up to no onebut you. By the way, Maxence Gilet is a brave man. "

"So much the better, " said Philippe; "I count on his courage forsuccess; a coward would leave Issoudun. "

"Well, --think of your mother who has been so devoted to you, and ofyour 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 aboutyou than they do?" asked Desroches. 

"What do you know?" said Philippe. 

"That you 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, andthe whole of the damned concern. The king's people were completelyhood-winked. "

"That's all very well, if it was so, " answered the lawyer. "But, don'tyou see, the Bourbons can't be overthrown; all Europe is backing them;and you ought to try to make your peace with the war department, --youcould do that readily enough if you were rich. To get rich, you andyour brother, you must lay hold of your uncle. If you will take thetrouble to manage an affair which needs great cleverness, patience, and caution, you have enough work before you to occupy your fiveyears. "

"No, no, " cried Philippe, "I must take the bull by the horns at once. This Maxence may alter the investment of the property and put it inthat woman's name; and then all would be lost. "

"Monsieur Hochon is a good adviser, and sees clearly; consult him. Youhave your orders from the police; I have taken your place in theOrleans diligence for half-past seven o'clock this evening. I supposeyour trunk is ready; so, now come and dine. "

"I own nothing but what I have got on my back, " said Philippe, openinghis horrible blue overcoat; "but I only need three things, which youmust tell Giroudeau, the uncle of Finot, to send me, --my sabre, mysword, and my pistols. "

"You need more than that, " said the lawyer, shuddering as he looked athis client. "You will receive a quarterly stipend which will clotheyou decently. "

"Bless me! are you here, Godeschal?" cried Philippe, recognizing inDesroches's head-clerk, as they passed out, the brother of Mariette. 

"Yes, I have been with Monsieur Desroches for the last two months. "

"And he will stay with me, I hope, till he gets a business of hisown, " said Desroches. 

"How is Mariette?" asked Philippe, moved at his recollections. 

"She is getting ready for the opening of the new theatre. "

"It would cost her little trouble to get my sentence remitted, " saidPhilippe. "However, as she chooses!"

After a meagre dinner, given by Desroches who boarded his head-clerk, the two lawyers put the political convict in the diligence, and wishedhim good luck. 

 CHAPTER XIV

On the second of November, All-Souls' day, Philippe Bridau appearedbefore the commissary of police at Issoudun, to have the date of hisarrival recorded on his papers; and by that functionary's advice hewent to lodge in the rue l'Avenier. The news of the arrival of anofficer, banished on account of the late military conspiracy, spreadrapidly through the town, and caused all the more excitement when itwas known that this officer was a brother of the painter who had beenfalsely accused. Maxence Gilet, by this time entirely recovered fromhis wound, had completed the difficult operation of turning all PereRouget's mortgages into money, and putting the proceeds in one sum, onthe "grand-livre. " The loan of one hundred and forty thousand francsobtained by the old man on his landed property had caused a greatsensation, --for everything is known in the provinces. Monsieur Hochon, in the Bridau interest, was much put about by this disaster, andquestioned old Monsieur Heron, the notary at Bourges, as to the objectof it. 

"The heirs of old Rouget, if old Rouget changes his mind, ought tomake me a votive offering, " cried Monsieur Heron. "If it had not beenfor me, the old fellow would have allowed the fifty thousand francs'income to stand in the name of Maxence Gilet. I told MademoiselleBrazier that she ought to look to the will only, and not run the riskof a suit for spoliation, seeing what numerous proofs these transfersin every direction would give against them. To gain time, I advisedMaxence and his mistress to keep quiet, and let this sudden change inthe usual business habits of the old man be forgotten. "

"Protect the Bridaus, for they have nothing, " said Monsieur Hochon, who in addition to all other reasons, could not forgive Gilet theterrors he had endured when fearing the pillage of his house. 

Maxence Gilet and Flore Brazier, now secure against all attack, werevery merry over the arrival of another of old Rouget's nephews. Theyknew they were able, at the first signal of danger, to make the oldman sign a power of attorney under which the money in the Funds couldbe transferred either to Max or Flore. If the will leaving Flore theprincipal, should be revoked, an income of fifty thousand francs was avery tolerable crumb of comfort, --more particularly after squeezingfrom the real estate that mortgage of a hundred and forty thousand. 

The day after his arrival, Philippe called upon his uncle about teno'clock in the morning, anxious to present himself in his dilapidatedclothing. When the convalescent of the Hopital du Midi, the prisonerof the Luxembourg, entered the room, Flore Brazier felt a shiver passover her at the repulsive sight. Gilet himself was conscious of thatparticular disturbance both of mind and body, by which Naturesometimes warns us of a latent enmity, or a coming danger. If therewas something indescribably sinister in Philippe's countenance, due tohis recent misfortunes, the effect was heightened by his clothes. Hisforlorn blue great-coat was buttoned in military fashion to thethroat, for painful reasons; and yet it showed much that it pretendedto conceal. The bottom edges of the trousers, ragged like those of analmshouse beggar, were the sign of abject poverty. The boots left wetsplashes on the floor, as the mud oozed from fissures in the soles. The gray hat, which the colonel held in his hand, was horribly greasyround the rim. The malacca cane, from which the polish had longdisappeared, must have stood in all the corners of all the cafes inParis, and poked its worn-out end into many a corruption. Above thevelvet collar, rubbed and worn till the frame showed through it, rosea 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 theprime of life is betrayed by the metallic, brassy skin, discolored asif with verdigris. Such tints are seen on the faces of debauchedgamblers who spend their nights in play: the eyes are sunken in adusky circle, the lids are reddened rather than red, the brow ismenacing from the wreck and ruin it reveals. Philippe's cheeks, whichwere sunken and wrinkled, showed signs of the illness from which hehad scarcely recovered. His head was bald, except for a fringe of hairat the back which ended at the ears. The pure blue of his brillianteyes had acquired the cold tones of polished steel. 

"Good-morning, uncle, " he said, in a hoarse voice. "I am your nephew, Philippe Bridau, --a specimen of how the Bourbons treat alieutenant-colonel, an old soldier of the old army, one who carried theEmperor's orders at the battle of Montereau. If my coat were to open, Ishould be put to shame in presence of Mademoiselle. Well, it is therule of the game! We hoped to begin it again; we tried it, and we havefailed! I am to reside in your city by the order of the police, with afull pay of sixty francs a month. So the inhabitants needn't fear thatI shall raise the price of provisions! I see you are in good and lovelycompany. "

"Ah! you are my nephew, " said Jean-Jacques. 

"Invite monsieur le colonel to breakfast with us, " said Flore. 

"No, I thank you, madame, " answered Philippe, "I have breakfasted. Besides, I would cut off my hand sooner than ask a bit of bread or afarthing from my uncle, after the treatment my mother and brotherreceived in this town. It did not seem proper, however, that I shouldsettle here, in Issoudun, without paying my respects to him from timeto time. You can do what you like, " he added, offering the old man hishand, into which Rouget put his own, which Philippe shook, "--whateveryou like. I shall have nothing to say against it; provided the honorof the Bridaus is untouched. "

Gilet could look at the lieutenant-colonel as much as he pleased, forPhilippe pointedly avoided casting his eyes in his direction. Max, though the blood boiled in his veins, was too well aware of theimportance of behaving with political prudence--which occasionallyresembles cowardice--to take fire like a young man; he remained, therefore, perfectly calm and cold. 

"It wouldn't be right, monsieur, " said Flore, "to live on sixty francsa month under the nose of an uncle who has forty thousand francs ayear, and who has already behaved so kindly to Captain Gilet, hisnatural relation, here present--"

"Yes, Philippe, " cried the old man, "you must see that!"

On Flore's presentation, Philippe made a half-timid bow to Max. 

"Uncle, I have some pictures to return to you; they are now atMonsieur Hochon's. Will you be kind enough to come over some day andidentify them. "

Saying these last words in a curt tone, lieutenant-colonel PhilippeBridau departed. The tone of his visit made, if possible, a deeperimpression on Flore's mind, and also on that of Max, than the shockthey had felt at the first sight of that horrible campaigner. As soonas Philippe had slammed the door, with the violence of a disinheritedheir, Max and Flore hid behind the window-curtains to watch him as hecrossed the road, to the Hochons'. 

"What a vagabond!" exclaimed Flore, questioning Max with a glance ofher eye. 

"Yes; unfortunately there were men like him in the armies of theEmperor; I sent seven to the shades at Cabrera, " answered Gilet. 

"I do hope, Max, that you won't pick a quarrel with that fellow, " saidMademoiselle Brazier. 

"He smelt so of tobacco, " complained the old man. 

"He was smelling after your money-bags, " said Flore, in a peremptorytone. "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 familywere all assembled after breakfast, "here is the Monsieur Bridau youwere talking about. "

Philippe made his entrance politely, in the midst of a dead silencecaused by general curiosity. Madame Hochon shuddered from head to footas she beheld the author of all Agathe's woes and the murderer of goodold Madame Descoings. Adolphine also felt a shock of fear. Baruch andFrancois looked at each other in surprise. Old Hochon kept hisself-possession, and offered a seat to the son of Madame Bridau. 

"I have come, monsieur, " said Philippe, "to introduce myself to you; Iam forced to consider how I can manage to live here, for five years, on sixty francs a month. "

"It can be done, " said the octogenarian. 

Philippe talked about things in general, with perfect propriety. Hementioned the journalist Lousteau, nephew of the old lady, as a "raraavis, " and won her good graces from the moment she heard him say thatthe name of Lousteau would become celebrated. He did not hesitate toadmit his faults of conduct. To a friendly admonition which MadameHochon addressed to him in a low voice, he replied that he hadreflected deeply while in prison, and could promise that in future hewould live another life. 

On a hint from Philippe, Monsieur Hochon went out with him when hetook his leave. When the miser and the soldier reached the boulevardBaron, a place where no one could overhear them, the colonel turned tothe old man, --

"Monsieur, " he said, "if you will be guided by me, we will never speaktogether of matters and things, or people either, unless we arewalking in the open country, or in places where we cannot be heard. Maitre Desroches has fully explained to me the influence of the gossipof a little town. Therefore I don't wish you to be suspected ofadvising me; though Desroches has told me to ask for your advice, andI beg you not to be chary of giving it. We have a powerful enemy inour front, and it won't do to neglect any precaution which may help todefeat him. In the first place, therefore, excuse me if I do not callupon you again. A little coldness between us will clear you of allsuspicion of influencing my conduct. When I want to consult you, Iwill pass along the square at half-past nine, just as you are comingout after breakfast. If you see me carry my cane on my shoulder, thatwill mean that we must meet--accidentally--in some open space whichyou will point out to me. "

"I see you are a prudent man, bent on success, " said old Hochon. 

"I shall succeed, monsieur. First of all, give me the names of theofficers of the old army now living in Issoudun, who have not takensides with Maxence Gilet; I wish to make their acquaintance. "

"Well, there's a captain of the artillery of the Guard, MonsieurMignonnet, a man about forty years of age, who was brought up at theEcole Polytechnique, and lives in a quiet way. He is a very honorableman, and openly disapproves of Max, whose conduct he considersunworthy of a true soldier. "

"Good!" remarked the lieutenant-colonel. 

"There are not many soldiers here of that stripe, " resumed MonsieurHochon; "the only other that I know is an old cavalry captain. "

"That is my 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 inthe line, and subsequently captain of cavalry. "

"Giroudeau may know him, " thought Philippe. 

"This Monsieur Carpentier took the place in the mayor's office whichGilet threw up; he is a friend of Monsieur Mignonnet. "

"How can I earn my living here?"

"They are going, I think, to establish a mutual insurance agency inIssoudun, 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. "

"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 aletter for Carpentier, who had formerly served under Giroudeau. Theletter secured him Carpentier's good-will, and the latter presentedhim to his friend Mignonnet as a man of great merit and the highestcharacter. Philippe won the admiration of these worthy officers byconfiding to them a few facts about the late conspiracy, which was, aseverybody knows, the last attempt of the old army against theBourbons; for the affair of the sergeants at La Rochelle belongs toanother order of ideas. 

Warned by the fate of the conspiracy of the 19th of August, 1820, andof those of Berton and Caron, the soldiers of the old army resignedthemselves, after their failure in 1822, to await events. This lastconspiracy, which grew out of that of the 19th of August, was really acontinuation of the latter, carried on by a better element. Like itspredecessor, it was absolutely unknown to the royal government. Betrayed once more, the conspirators had the wit to reduce their vastenterprise to the puny proportions of a barrack plot. This conspiracy, in which several regiments of cavalry, infantry, and artillery wereconcerned, had its centre in the north of France. The strong placesalong the frontier were to be captured at a blow. If success hadfollowed, the treaties of 1815 would have been broken by a federationwith Belgium, which, by a military compact made among the soldiers, was to withdraw from the Holy Alliance. Two thrones would have beenplunged in a moment into the vortex of this sudden cyclone. Instead ofthis formidable scheme--concerted by strong minds and supported bypersonages of high rank--being carried out, one small part of it, andthat only, was discovered and brought before the Court of Peers. Philippe Bridau consented to screen the leaders, who retired themoment the plot was discovered (either by treachery or accident), andfrom their seats in both Chambers lent their co-operation to theinquiry only to work for the ultimate success of their purpose at theheart of the government. 

To recount this scheme, which, since 1830, the Liberals have openlyconfessed in all its ramifications, would trench upon the domain ofhistory and involve too long a digression. This glimpse of it isenough to show the double part which Philippe Bridau undertook toplay. The former staff-officer of the Emperor was to lead a movementin Paris solely for the purpose of masking the real conspiracy andoccupying the mind of the government at its centre, while the greatstruggle should burst forth at the north. When the latter miscarriedbefore discovery, Philippe was ordered to break all links connectingthe two plots, and to allow the secrets of the secondary plot only tobecome known. For this purpose, his abject misery, to which his stateof health and his clothing bore witness, was amply sufficient toundervalue the character of the conspiracy and reduce its proportionsin the eyes of the authorities. The role was well suited to theprecarious position of the unprincipled gambler. Feeling himselfastride of both parties, the crafty Philippe played the saint to theroyal government, all the while retaining the good opinion of the menin high places who were of the other party, --determined to cast in hislot at a later day with whichever side he might then find most to hisadvantage. 

These revelations as to the vast bearings of the real conspiracy madePhilippe a man of great distinction in the eyes of Carpentier andMignonnet, to whom his self-devotion seemed a state-craft worthy ofthe palmy days of the Convention. In a short time the trickyBonapartist was seen to be on friendly terms with the two officers, and the consideration they enjoyed in the town was, of course, sharedby him. He soon obtained, through their recommendation, the situationin the insurance office that old Hochon had suggested, which requiredonly three hours of his day. Mignonnet and Carpentier put him up attheir club, where his good manners and bearing, in keeping with thehigh opinion which the two officers expressed about him, won him arespect often given to external appearances that are only deceitful. 

Philippe, whose conduct was carefully considered and planned, hadindeed made many reflections while in prison as to the inconveniencesof leading a debauched life. He did not need Desroches's lecture tounderstand the necessity of conciliating the people at Issoudun bydecent, sober, and respectable conduct. Delighted to attract Max'sridicule by behaving with the propriety of a Mignonnet, he wentfurther, and endeavored to lull Gilet's suspicions by deceiving him asto his real character. He was bent on being taken for a fool byappearing generous and disinterested; all the while drawing a netaround his adversary, and keeping his eye on his uncle's property. Hismother and brother, on the contrary, who were really disinterested, generous, and lofty, had been accused of greed because they had actedwith straightforward simplicity. Philippe's covetousness was fullyroused by Monsieur Hochon, who gave him all the details of his uncle'sproperty. In the first secret conversation which he held with theoctogenarian, they agreed that Philippe must not awaken Max'ssuspicions; for the game would be lost if Flore and Max were to carryoff their victim, though no further than Bourges. 

Once a week the colonel dined with Mignonnet; another day withCarpentier; and every Thursday with Monsieur Hochon. At the end ofthree weeks he received other invitations for the remaining days, sothat he had little more than his breakfast to provide. He never spokeof his uncle, nor of the Rabouilleuse, nor of Gilet, unless it were inconnection with his mother and his brother's stay in Issoudun. Thethree officers--the only soldiers in the town who were decorated, andamong whom Philippe had the advantage of the rosette, which in theeyes of all provincials gave him a marked superiority--took a habit ofwalking together every day before dinner, keeping, as the saying is, to themselves. This reserve and tranquillity of demeanor had anexcellent effect on Issoudun. All Max's adherents thought Philippe a"sabreur, "--an expression applied by soldiers to the commonest sort ofcourage in their superior officers, while denying that they possessthe requisite qualities of a commander. 

"He is a very honorable man, " said Goddet the surgeon, to Max. 

"Bah!" replied Gilet, "his behavior before the Court of Peers proveshim to have been either a dupe or a spy; he is, as you say, ninnyenough to have been duped by the great players. "

After obtaining his situation, Philippe, who was well informed as tothe gossip of the town, wished to conceal certain circumstances of hispresent life as much as possible from the knowledge of theinhabitants; he therefore went to live in a house at the farther endof the faubourg Saint-Paterne, to which was attached a large garden. Here he was able in the utmost secrecy to fence with Carpentier, whohad been a fencing-master in the infantry before entering the cavalry. Philippe soon recovered his early dexterity, and learned other and newsecrets from Carpentier, which convinced him that he need not fear theprowess of any adversary. This done, he began openly to practise withpistols, with Mignonnet and Carpentier, declaring it was foramusement, but really intending to make Max believe that, in case of aduel, he should rely on that weapon. Whenever Philippe met Gilet hewaited for him to bow first, and answered the salutation by touchingthe brim of his hat cavalierly, as an officer acknowledges the saluteof a private. Maxence Gilet gave no sign of impatience or displeasure;he never uttered a single word about Bridau at the Cognettes' where hestill gave suppers; although, since Fario's attack, the pranks of theOrder of Idleness were temporarily suspended. 

After a while, however, the contempt shown by Lieutenant-colonelBridau for the former cavalry captain, Gilet, was a settled fact, which certain Knights of Idleness, who were less bound to Max thanFrancois, Baruch, and three or four others, discussed amongthemselves. They were much surprised to see the violent and fiery Maxbehave with such discretion. No one in Issoudun, not even Potel orRenard, dared broach so delicate a subject with him. Potel, somewhatdisturbed by this open misunderstanding between two heroes of theImperial Guard, suggested that Max might be laying a net for thecolonel; he asserted that some new scheme might be looked for from theman who had got rid of the mother and one brother by making use ofFario's attack upon him, the particulars of which were now no longer amystery. Monsieur Hochon had taken care to reveal the truth of Max'satrocious accusation to the best people of the town. Thus it happenedthat in talking over the situation of the lieutenant-colonel inrelation to Max, and in trying to guess what might spring from theirantagonism, the whole town regarded the two men, from the start, asadversaries. 

Philippe, who had carefully investigated all the circumstances of hisbrother's arrest and the antecedents of Gilet and the Rabouilleuse, was finally brought into rather close relations with Fario, who livednear him. After studying the Spaniard, Philippe thought he might trusta man of that quality. The two found their hatred so firm a bond ofunion, that Fario put himself at Philippe's disposal, and related allthat he knew about the Knights of Idleness. Philippe promised, in casehe succeeded in obtaining over his uncle the power now exercised byGilet, to indemnify Fario for his losses; this bait made the Spaniardhis henchman. Maxence was now face to face with a dangerous foe; hehad, as they say in those parts, some one to handle. Roused by muchgossip and various rumors, the town of Issoudun expected a mortalcombat between the two men, who, we must remark, mutually despisedeach other. 

One morning, toward the end of November, Philippe met Monsieur Hochonabout twelve o'clock, in the long avenue of Frapesle, and said tohim:--

"I have discovered that your grandsons Baruch and Francois are theintimate friends of Maxence Gilet. The rascals are mixed up in all thepranks that are played about this town at night. It was through themthat Maxence knew what was said in your house when my mother andbrother were staying there. "

"How did you get proof of such a monstrous thing?"

"I overheard their conversation one night as they were leaving adrinking-shop. Your grandsons both owe Max more than three thousandfrancs. The scoundrel told the lads to try and find out ourintentions; he reminded them that you had once thought of gettinground my uncle by priestcraft, and declared that nobody but you couldguide me; for he thinks, fortunately, that I am nothing more than a'sabreur. '"

"My grandsons! is it possible?"

"Watch them, " said Philippe. "You will see them coming home along theplace Saint-Jean, at two or three o'clock in the morning, as tipsy aschampagne-corks, and in company with Gilet--"

"That's why the scamps keep so sober at home!" cried Monsieur Hochon. 

"Fario has told me all about their nocturnal proceedings, " resumedPhilippe; "without him, I should never have suspected them. My uncleis held down under an absolute thraldom, if I may judge by certainthings which the Spaniard has heard Max say to your boys. I suspectMax and the Rabouilleuse of a scheme to make sure of the fiftythousand francs' income from the Funds, and then, after pulling thatfeather from their pigeon's wing, to run away, I don't know where, andget married. It is high time to know what is going on under my uncle'sroof, 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 suffer as he had donesince the first visit of his nephew Philippe. Flore was terrified bythe presentiment of some evil that threatened Max. Weary of hermaster, and fearing that he might live to be very old, since he wasable to bear up under their criminal practices, she formed the verysimple plan of leaving Issoudun and being married to Maxence in Paris, after obtaining from Jean-Jacques the transfer of the income in theFunds. The old bachelor, guided, not by any justice to his family, norby personal avarice, but solely by his passion, steadily refused tomake the transfer, on the ground that Flore was to be his sole heir. The unhappy creature knew to what extent Flore loved Max, and hebelieved he would be abandoned the moment she was made rich enough tomarry. When Flore, after employing the tenderest cajoleries, wasunable to succeed, she tried rigor; she no longer spoke to her master;Vedie was sent to wait upon him, and found him in the morning with hiseyes swollen and red with weeping. For a week or more, poor Rouget hadbreakfasted alone, and Heaven knows on what food!

The day after Philippe's conversation with Monsieur Hochon, hedetermined to pay a second visit to his uncle, whom he found muchchanged. Flore stayed beside the old man, speaking tenderly andlooking at him with much affection; she played the comedy so well thatPhilippe guessed some immediate danger, merely from the solicitudethus displayed in his presence. Gilet, whose policy it was to avoidall collision with Philippe, did not appear. After watching his uncleand Flore for a time with a discerning eye, the colonel judged thatthe time had come to strike his grand blow. 

"Adieu, my 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'sfalse tenderness. "Dine with us, Philippe. "

"Yes, if you will come and take a walk with me. "

"Monsieur is very feeble, " interposed Mademoiselle Brazier; "just nowhe was unwilling even to go out in the carriage, " she added, turningupon the old man the fixed look with which keepers quell a maniac. 

Philippe took Flore by the arm, compelling her to look at him, andlooking at her in return as fixedly as she had just looked at hervictim. 

"Tell me, mademoiselle, " he said, "is it a fact that my uncle is notfree to take a walk with me?"

"Why, yes he is, monsieur, " replied Flore, who was unable to make anyother answer. 

"Very well. Come, uncle. Mademoiselle, give him his hat and cane. "

"But--he never goes out without me. Do you, monsieur?"

"Yes, Philippe, yes; I always want her--"

"It would be better to take the carriage, " said Flore. 

"Yes, let us take the carriage, " cried the old man, in his anxiety tomake his two tyrants agree. 

"Uncle, you will come with me, alone, and on foot, or I shall neverreturn here; I shall know that the town of Issoudun tells the truth, when it declares you are under the dominion of Mademoiselle FloreBrazier. That my uncle should love you, is all very well, " he resumed, holding Flore with a fixed eye; "that you should not love my uncle isalso on the cards; but when it comes to your making him unhappy--halt!If people want to get hold of an inheritance, they must earn it. Areyou coming, uncle?"

Philippe saw the eyes of the poor imbecile roving from himself toFlore, in painful hesitation. 

"Ha! that's how it is, is it?" resumed the lieutenant-colonel. "Well, adieu, uncle. Mademoiselle, I kiss your hands. "

He turned quickly when he reached the door, and caught Flore in theact of making a menacing gesture at his uncle. 

"Uncle, " he said, "if you wish to go with me, I will meet you at yourdoor in ten minutes: I am now going to see Monsieur Hochon. If you andI do not take that walk, I shall take upon myself to make some otherswalk. "

So saying, he went away, and crossed the place Saint-Jean to theHochons. 

Every one can imagine the scenes which the revelations made byPhilippe to Monsieur Hochon had brought about within that family. Atnine o'clock, old Monsieur Heron, the notary, presented himself with abundle 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 atthe corner of the fireplace. The two grandsons, warned the nightbefore by Adolphine that a storm was gathering about their heads, hadbeen ordered to stay in the house. Summoned now by Gritte, they werealarmed at the formal preparations of their grandparents, whosecoldness and anger they had been made to feel in the air for the lasttwenty-four hours. 

"Don't rise for them, " said their grandfather to Monsieur Heron; "yousee before you two miscreants, unworthy of pardon. "

"Oh, grandpapa!" said Francois. 

"Be silent!" said the old man sternly. "I know of your nocturnal lifeand your intimacy with Monsieur Maxence Gilet. But you will meet himno more at Mere Cognette's at one in the morning; for you will notleave this house, either of you, until you go to your respectivedestinations. Ha! it was you who ruined Fario, was it? you, who havenarrowly escaped the police-courts-- Hold your tongue!" he said, seeing that Baruch was about to speak. "You both owe money to MonsieurMaxence Gilet; who, for six years, has paid for your debauchery. Listen, both of you, to my guardianship accounts; after that, I shallhave more to say. You will see, after these papers are read, whetheryou can still trifle with me, --still trifle with family laws bybetraying the secrets of this house, and reporting to a MonsieurMaxence Gilet what is said and what is done here. For three thousandfrancs, you became spies; for ten thousand, you would, no doubt, become assassins. You did almost kill Madame Bridau; for MonsieurGilet knew very well it was Fario who stabbed him when he threw thecrime upon my guest, Monsieur Joseph Bridau. If that jail-bird did sowicked an act, it was because you told him what Madame Bridau meant todo. You, my grandsons, the spies of such a man! You, house-breakersand marauders! Don't you know that your worthy leader killed a pooryoung woman, in 1806? I will not have assassins and thieves in myfamily. Pack your things; you 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 appearedthat the net fortune of the two Borniche children amounted to seventythousand francs, a sum derived from the dowry of their mother: butMonsieur Hochon had lent his daughter various large sums, and was now, as creditor, the owner of a part of the property of his Bornichegrandchildren. The portion coming to Baruch amounted to only twentythousand francs. 

"Now you are rich, " said the old man, "take your money, and go. Iremain master of my own property and that of Madame Hochon, who inthis matter shares all my intentions, and I shall give it to whom Ichoose; namely, our dear Adolphine. Yes, we can marry her if we pleaseto the son of a peer of France, for she will be an heiress. "

"A noble fortune!" said Monsieur Heron. 

"Monsieur Maxence Gilet will make up this loss to you, " said MadameHochon. 

"Let my hard-saved money go to a scapegrace like you? no, indeed!"cried Monsieur Hochon. 

"Forgive me!" stammered Baruch. 

"'Forgive, and I won't do it again, '" sneered the old man, imitating achild's voice. "If I were to forgive you, and let you out of thishouse, you would go and tell Monsieur Maxence what has happened, andwarn him to be on his guard. No, no, my little men. I shall keep myeye on you, and I have means of knowing what you do. As you behave, soshall I behave to you. It will be by a long course of good conduct, not that of a day or a month, but of years, that I shall judge you. Iam strong on my legs, my eyes are good, my health is sound; I hope tolive long enough to see what road you take. Your first move will be toParis, where you will study banking under Messieurs Mongenod and Sons. Ill-luck to you if you don't walk straight; you will be watched. Yourproperty is in the hand of Messieurs Mongenod; here is a cheque forthe amount. Now then, release me as guardian, and sign the accounts, and also this receipt, " he added, taking the papers from MonsieurHeron and handing them to Baruch. 

"As for you, Francois Hochon, you owe me money instead of having anyto receive, " said the old man, looking at his other grandson. "Monsieur Heron, read his account; it is all clear--perfectly clear. "

The reading was done in the midst of perfect stillness. 

"You will have six hundred francs a year, and with that you will go toPoitiers and study law, " said the grandfather, when the notary hadfinished. "I had a fine life in prospect for you; but now, you mustearn your living as a lawyer. Ah! my young rascals, you have deceivedme for six years; you now know it has taken me but one hour to geteven with you: I have seven-leagued boots. "

Just as old Monsieur Heron was preparing to leave with the signedpapers, 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 hadproduced upon them. 

Philippe and the old man stood in the embrasure of a window and spokein low tones. 

"I have been reflecting on the state of your affairs over there, " saidMonsieur Hochon pointing to the Rouget house. "I have just had a talkwith Monsieur Heron. The security for the fifty thousand francs a yearfrom the property in the Funds cannot be sold unless by the ownerhimself or some one with a power of attorney from him. Now, since yourarrival here, your uncle has not signed any such power before anynotary; and, as he has not left Issoudun, he can't have signed oneelsewhere. If he attempts to give a power of attorney here, we shallknow 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 meansof finding it out. Therefore, if Rouget leaves Issoudun, have himfollowed, learn where he goes, and we will find a way to discover whathe does. "

"The power of attorney has not been given, " said Philippe; "they aretrying to get it; but--they--will--not--suc--ceed--" added thevagabond, whose eye just then caught sight of his uncle on the stepsof the opposite house: he pointed him out to Monsieur Hochon, andrelated 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 thatall the officers of the old army who are in Issoudun give a yearlybanquet on the anniversary of the Emperor's coronation; so MaxenceGilet and I are sure to meet in a few days. "

"If he gets a power of attorney by the morning of the first ofDecember, " said Hochon, "he might take the mail-post for Paris, andgive up the banquet. "

"Very good. The first thing is, then, to get possession of my uncle;I've an eye that cows a fool, " said Philippe, giving Monsieur Hochonan atrocious glance that made the old man tremble. 

"If they let him walk with you, Maxence must believe he has found somemeans to win the game, " remarked the old miser. 

"Oh! Fario is on the watch, " said Philippe, "and he is not alone. ThatSpaniard has discovered one of my old soldiers in the neighborhood ofVatan, a man I once did some service to. Without any one's suspectingit, Benjamin Bourdet is under Fario's orders, who has lent him a horseto get about with. "

"If you kill that monster who has corrupted my grandsons, I shall sayyou have done a good deed. "

"Thanks to me, the town of Issoudun now knows what Monsieur MaxenceGilet has been doing at night for the last six years, " repliedPhilippe; "and the cackle, as you call it here, is now started on him. Morally his day is over. "

The moment Philippe left his uncle's house Flore went to Max's room totell 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 bigreprobate, " replied Maxence, "--we must play double or quits, and tryour grand stroke. Let the old idiot go with his nephew. "

"But that big brute won't mince matters, " remonstrated Flore; "he'llcall things by their right names. "

"Listen to me, " said Maxence in a harsh voice. "Do you think I've notkept my ears open, and reflected about how we stand? Send to PereCognette for a horse and a char-a-banc, and say we want theminstantly: they must be here in five minutes. Pack all yourbelongings, take Vedie, and go to Vatan. Settle yourself there as ifyou mean to stay; carry off the twenty thousand francs in gold whichthe old fellow has got in his drawer. If I bring him to you in Vatan, you are to refuse to come back here unless he signs the power ofattorney. As soon as we get it I'll slip off to Paris, while you'rereturning to Issoudun. When Jean-Jacques gets back from his walk andfinds you gone, he'll go beside himself, and want to follow you. Well!when he does, I'll give him a talking to. "

 CHAPTER XV

While the foregoing plot was progressing, Philippe was walking arm inarm with his uncle along the boulevard Baron. 

"The two great tacticians are coming to close quarters at last, "thought Monsieur Hochon as he watched the colonel marching off withhis uncle; "I am curious to see the end of the game, and what becomesof the stake of ninety thousand francs a year. "

"My dear uncle, " said Philippe, whose phraseology had a flavor of hisaffinities in Paris, "you love this girl, and you are devilishlyright. She is damnably handsome! Instead of billing and cooing shemakes you trot like a valet; well, that's all simple enough; but shewants to see you six feet underground, so that she may marry Max, whomshe adores. "

"I know that, Philippe, but I love her all the same. "

"Well, I have sworn by the soul of my mother, who is your own sister, "continued Philippe, "to make your Rabouilleuse as supple as my glove, and the same as she was before that scoundrel, who is unworthy to haveserved in the Imperial Guard, ever came to quarter himself in yourhouse. "

"Ah! if you could do that!--" said the old man. 

"It is very easy, " answered Philippe, cutting his uncle short. "I'llkill Max as I would a dog; but--on one condition, " added the oldcampaigner. 

"What is that?" said Rouget, looking at his nephew in a stupid way. 

"Don't sign that power of attorney which they want of you before thethird of December; put them off till then. Your torturers only want itto enable them to sell the fifty thousand a year you have in theFunds, so that they may run off to Paris and pay for their weddingfestivities out of your millions. "

"I am afraid so, " replied Rouget. 

"Well, whatever they may say or do to you, put off giving that powerof attorney until next week. "

"Yes; but when Flore talks to me she stirs my very soul, till I don'tknow what I do. I give you my word, when she looks at me in a certainway, her blue eyes seem like paradise, and I am no longer master ofmyself, --especially when for some days she had been harsh to me. "

"Well, whether she is sweet or sour, don't do more than promise tosign the paper, and let me know the night before you are going to doit. That will answer. Maxence shall not be your proxy unless he firstkills me. If I kill him, you must agree to take me in his place, andI'll undertake to break in that handsome girl and keep her at yourbeck and call. Yes, Flore shall love you, and if she doesn't satisfyyou--thunder! I'll thrash her. "

"Oh! I never could allow that. A blow struck at Flore would break myheart. "

"But it is the only way to govern women and horses. A man makeshimself feared, or loved, or respected. Now that is what I wanted towhisper in your ear--Good-morning, gentlemen, " he said to Mignonnetand Carpentier, who came up at the moment; "I am taking my uncle for awalk, as you see, and trying to improve him; for we are in an age whenchildren are obliged to educate their grandparents. "

They all bowed to each other. 

"You behold in my dear uncle the effects of an unhappy passion. Thosetwo want to strip him of his fortune and leave him in the lurch--youknow to whom I refer? He sees the plot; but he hasn't the courage togive up his SUGAR-PLUM for a few days so as to baffle it. "

Philippe briefly explained his uncle's position. 

"Gentlemen, " he remarked, in conclusion, "you see there are no twoways of saving him: either Colonel Bridau must kill Captain Gilet, orCaptain Gilet must kill Colonel Bridau. We celebrate the Emperor'scoronation on the day after to-morrow; I rely upon you to arrange theseats at the banquet so that I shall sit opposite to Gilet. You willdo me the honor, I hope, of being my seconds. "

"We will appoint you to preside, and sit ourselves on either side ofyou. Max, as vice-president, will of course sit opposite, " saidMignonnet. 

"Oh! the scoundrel will have Potel and Renard with him, " saidCarpentier. "In spite of all that Issoudun now knows and says of hismidnight maraudings, those two worthy officers, who have already beenhis seconds, remain faithful to him. "

"You see how it all maps out, uncle, " said Philippe. "Therefore, signno paper before the third of December; the next day you 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. "Maxencehas killed nine men in duels. "

"Yes; but ninety thousand francs a year didn't depend on it, " answeredPhilippe. 

"A bad conscience shakes the hand, " remarked Mignonnet sententiously. 

"In a few days from now, " resumed Philippe, "you and the Rabouilleusewill be living together as sweet as honey, --that is, after she getsthrough mourning. At first she'll twist like a worm, and yelp, andweep; but never mind, let the water run!"

The two soldiers approved of Philippe's arguments, and tried tohearten up old Rouget, with whom they walked about for nearly twohours. 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 mehow to behave to the fair sex for the rest of my days. Women are badchildren; they are inferior animals to men; we must make them fear us;the worst condition in the world is to be governed by 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 gavesigns of weeping. 

"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 tostand. A moment after, he rose, looked about the hall, into thekitchen, went up to his own room, searched all the chambers, andreturned to the salon, where he threw himself into a chair, and burstinto tears. 

"Where is she?" he sobbed. "Oh! where is she? where is Max?"

"I don't know, " answered Kouski. "The captain went out without tellingme. "

Gilet thought it politic to be seen sauntering about the town. Byleaving the old man alone with his despair, he knew he should make himfeel his desertion the more keenly, and reduce him to docility. Tokeep Philippe from assisting his uncle at this crisis, he had givenKouski strict orders not to open the door to any one. Flore away, themiserable old man grew frantic, and the situation of things approacheda crisis. During his walk through the town, Maxence Gilet was avoidedby many persons who a day or two earlier would have hastened to shakehands with him. A general reaction had set in against him. The deedsof the Knights of Idleness were ringing on every tongue. The tale ofJoseph Bridau's arrest, now cleared up, disgraced Max in the eyes ofall; and his life and conduct received in one day their just award. Gilet met Captain Potel, who was looking for him, and seemed almostbeside himself. 

"What's the matter with you, Potel?"

"My dear fellow, the Imperial Guard is being black-guarded all overthe town! These civilians are crying you down! and it goes to thebottom 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. 

Potel belonged to the same class as the officer who replied to theburgomasters: "Eh! your town will be paid for, if we do burn it!" Sohe 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 theGuard! no, it ought not to be! You can't back down, Max; you must meetBridau. I had a great mind to pick a quarrel with the low scoundrelmyself and send him to the shades; I wish I had, and then thebourgeois wouldn't have seen the spectacle of the Guard against theGuard. In war times, I don't say anything against it. Two heroes ofthe Guard may quarrel, and fight, --but at least there are no civiliansto look on and sneer. No, I say that big villain never served in theGuard. A guardsman would never behave as he does to another guardsman, under the very eyes of the bourgeois; impossible! Ah! it's all wrong;the Guard is disgraced--and here, at Issoudun! where it was once sohonored. "

"Come, Potel, don't worry yourself, " answered Max; "even if you do notsee 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 acoward? and have it said you are running away from Bridau? No, no! Theunmounted grenadiers of the Guard can not draw back before thedragoons of the Guard. Arrange your business in some other way and bethere!"

"One more to send to the shades!" said Max. "Well, I think I canmanage my business so as to get 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 ofthose he met and returned home by the boulevard Vilatte, still talkingto himself. 

"I will have that money before I fight, " he said. "If I die, it shallnot go to Philippe. I must put it in Flore's name. She will follow myinstructions, and go straight to Paris. Once there, she can marry, ifshe chooses, the son of some marshal of France who has been sent tothe right-about. I'll have that power of attorney made in Baruch'sname, and he'll transfer the property by my order. "

Max, to do him justice, was never more cool and calm in appearancethan when his blood and his ideas were boiling. No man ever united ina higher degree the qualities which make a great general. If hiscareer had not been cut short by his captivity at Cabrera, the Emperorwould certainly have found him one of those men who are necessary tothe success of vast enterprises. When he entered the room where thehapless victim of all these comic and tragic scenes was still weeping, Max asked the meaning of such distress; seemed surprised, pretendedthat he knew nothing, and heard, with well-acted amazement, of Flore'sdeparture. He questioned Kouski, to obtain some light on the object ofthis inexplicable journey. 

"Madame said like this, " Kouski replied, "--that I was to tellmonsieur she had taken twenty thousand francs in gold from his drawer, thinking that monsieur wouldn't refuse her that amount as wages forthe last twenty-two years. "

"Wages?" exclaimed Rouget. 

"Yes, " replied Kouski. "Ah! I shall never come back, " she said toVedie as she drove away. "Poor Vedie, who is so attached to monsieur, remonstrated with madame. 'No, no, ' she answered, 'he has no affectionfor me; he lets his nephew treat me like the lowest of the low'; andshe wept--oh! bitterly. "

"Eh! what do I care for Philippe?" cried the old man, whom Max waswatching. "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, "what has he to do with the poor child?There is no one but you, my good Max, who can find Flore. She willfollow you--you could bring her back to me--"

"I don't wish to oppose Monsieur Bridau, " observed Max. 

"As for that, " cried Rouget, "if that hinders you, he told me he meantto kill you. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Gilet, laughing, "we will see about it!"

"My friend, " said the old man, "find Flore, and I will do all shewants of me. "

"Some one must have seen her as she passed through the town, " saidMaxence to Kouski. "Serve dinner; put everything on the table, andthen go and make inquiries from place to place. Let us know, bydessert, which road Mademoiselle Brazier has taken. "

This order quieted for a time the poor creature, who was moaning likea child that has lost its nurse. At this moment Rouget, who hated Max, thought his tormentor an angel. A passion like that of this miserableold man for Flore is astonishingly like the emotions of childhood. Atsix o'clock, the Pole, who had merely taken a walk, returned toannounce 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 you'll make your peace betterto-night than to-morrow morning. "

"Let us go!" cried Rouget. 

"Put the horse in quietly, " said Max to Kouski; "manage, if you can, that the town shall not know of this nonsense, for Monsieur Rouget'ssake. Saddle my horse, " he added in a whisper. "I will ride on aheadof you. "

Monsieur Hochon had already notified Philippe of Flore's departure;and the colonel rose from Monsieur Mignonnet's dinner-table to rush tothe place Saint-Jean; for he at once guessed the meaning of thisclever strategy. When Philippe presented himself at his uncle's house, Kouski answered through a window that Monsieur Rouget was unable tosee any one. 

"Fario, " said Philippe to the Spaniard, who was stationed in theGrande-Narette, "go and tell Benjamin to mount his horse; it isall-important that I shall know what Gilet does with my uncle. "

"They are now putting the horse into the caleche, " said Fario, who hadbeen watching the Rouget stable. 

"If they go towards Vatan, " answered Philippe, "get me another horse, and come yourself with Benjamin to Monsieur Mignonnet's. "

"What do you mean to do?" asked Monsieur Hochon, who had come out ofhis 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 observing the enemy's movements, butalso in guessing his intentions from those movements, and in modifyinghis own plan whenever the enemy interferes with it by some unexpectedaction. Now, if my uncle and Max drive out together, they are going toVatan; Maxence will have promised to reconcile him with Flore, who'fugit ad salices, '--the manoeuvre is General Virgil's. If that's theline they take, I don't yet know what I shall do; I shall have somehours to think it over, for my uncle can't sign a power of attorney atten o'clock at night; the notaries will all be in bed. If, as I ratherfancy, Max goes on in advance of my uncle to teach Flore her lesson, --which seems necessary and probable, --the rogue is lost! you will seethe 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'sand make an arrangement with my friend Carpentier. "

Shaking hands with Monsieur Hochon, Philippe went off down thePetite-Narette to Mignonnet's house. Ten minutes later, Monsieur Hochonsaw Max ride off at a quick trot; and the old miser's curiosity was sopowerfully excited that he remained standing at his window, eagerlyexpecting to hear the wheels of the old demi-fortune, which was notlong in coming. Jean-Jacques's impatience made him follow Max withintwenty minutes. Kouski, no doubt under orders from his master, walkedthe horse through the town. 

"If they get to Paris, all is lost, " thought Monsieur Hochon. 

At this moment, a lad from the faubourg de Rome came to the Hochonhouse with a letter for Baruch. The two grandsons, much subdued by theevents of the morning, had kept their rooms of their own accord duringthe day. Thinking over their prospects, they saw plainly that they hadbetter be cautious with their grandparents. Baruch knew very well theinfluence which his grandfather Hochon exerted over his grandfatherand grandmother Borniche: Monsieur Hochon would not hesitate to gettheir property for Adolphine if his conduct were such as to make thempin their hopes on the grand marriage with which his grandfather hadthreatened him that morning. Being richer than Francois, Baruch hadthe most to lose; he therefore counselled an absolute surrender, withno other condition than the payment of their debt to Max. As forFrancois, his future was entirely in the hands of his grandfather; hehad no expectations except from him, and by the guardianship account, he was now his debtor. The two young men accordingly gave solemnpromises of amendment, prompted by their imperilled interests, and bythe hope Madame Hochon held out, that the debt to Max should be paid. 

"You have done very wrong, " she said to them; "repair it by futuregood conduct, and Monsieur Hochon will forget it. "

So, when Francois had read the letter which had been brought forBaruch, over the latter's shoulder, he whispered in his ear, "Askgrandpapa's advice. "

"Read this, " said Baruch, taking the letter to old Hochon. 

"Read it to me yourself; I haven't my spectacles. "

 My dear Friend, --I hope you will not hesitate, under the 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 oldidiot is saved from the claws of the devil. "

"It will be if you say so, " said Madame Hochon; "and I thank God, --whohas no doubt heard my prayers. The prosperity of the wicked is alwaysfleeting. "

"You must go to Vatan, and accept the power of attorney from MonsieurRouget, " said the old man to Baruch. "Their object is to get fiftythousand francs a year transferred to Mademoiselle Brazier. They willsend you to Paris, and you must seem to go; but you are to stop atOrleans, and wait there till you hear from me. Let no one--not a soul--know where you lodge; go to the first inn you come to in thefaubourg Bannier, no matter if it is only a post-house--"

"Look here!" cried Francois, who had rushed to the window at thesudden noise of wheels in the Grande-Narette. "Here's something new!--Pere Rouget and Colonel Bridau coming back together in the caleche, Benjamin and Captain Carpentier following on horseback!"

"I'll go over, " cried Monsieur Hochon, whose curiosity carried the dayover every other feeling. 

Monsieur Hochon found old Rouget in his bedroom, writing the followingletter 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 tofollow Mademoiselle Brazier and Monsieur Gilet to Vatan, " saidPhilippe, with sarcastic emphasis, to Monsieur Hochon. "I have made myuncle see that he was running his head into a noose; for that girlwill 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 asa bit of whalebone for the rest of her days, if my uncle allows me totake Maxence Gilet's place; which, in my opinion, he ought never tohave had in the first place. Am I not right?--and yet here's my unclebemoaning himself!"

"Neighbor, " said Monsieur Hochon, "you have taken the best means toget peace in your household. Destroy your will, and Flore will be oncemore what she used to be in the early days. "

"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'll take care of that, " saidPhilippe. 

"Come, open your eyes!" exclaimed Monsieur Hochon. "They mean to robyou and abandon you. "

"Oh! I was sure of it!" cried the poor imbecile. 

"See, here is a letter Maxence has written to my grandson Borniche, "said old Hochon. "Read it. "

"What infamy!" exclaimed Carpentier, as he listened to the letter, which Rouget read aloud, weeping. 

"Is that plain enough, uncle?" demanded Philippe. "Hold that hussy byher interests and she'll adore you as you deserve. "

"She loves Maxence too well; she will leave me, " cried the frightenedold man. 

"But, uncle, Maxence or I, --one or the other of us--won't leave ourfootsteps in the dust of Issoudun three days hence. "

"Well then go, Monsieur Carpentier, " said Rouget; "if you promise meto bring her back, go! You are a good man; say to her in my name allyou think you ought to say. "

"Captain Carpentier will whisper in her ear that I have sent to Parisfor a woman whose youth and beauty are captivating; that will bringthe jade back in a hurry!"

The captain departed, driving himself in the old caleche; Benjaminaccompanied him on horseback, for Kouski was nowhere to be found. Though threatened by the officers with arrest and the loss of hissituation, the Pole had gone to Vatan on a hired horse, to warn Maxand Flore of the adversary's move. After fulfilling his mission, Carpentier, who did not wish to drive back with Flore, was to changeplaces with Benjamin, and take the latter's horse. 

When Philippe was told of Kouski's flight he said to Benjamin, "Youwill take the Pole's place, from this time on. It is all mapping out, papa Hochon!" cried the lieutenant-colonel. "That banquet will bejovial!"

"You will come and live here, of course, " said the old miser. 

"I have told Fario to send me all my things, " answered Philippe. "Ishall sleep in the room adjoining Gilet's apartment, --if my uncleconsents. "

"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. 

"It is now seven o'clock, " said Philippe; "the sovereign of your heartwill be here at half-past eleven: you'll never see Gilet again, andyou will be as happy ever after as a pope. --If you want me tosucceed, " he whispered to Monsieur Hochon, "stay here till the hussycomes; you 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 breadis buttered. "

Monsieur Hochon felt the reasonableness of the request and stayed: butthey had their hands full, for old Rouget gave way to childishlamentations, which were only quieted by Philippe's repeating over andover a dozen times:--

"Uncle, you will see that I am right when Flore returns to you astender as ever. You shall be petted; you will save your property: beguided by my advice, and you'll live in paradise for the rest of yourdays. "

When, about half-past eleven, wheels were heard in the Grande-Narette, the question was, whether the carriage were returning full or empty. Rouget's face wore an expression of agony, which changed to theprostration of excessive joy when he saw the two women, as thecarriage turned to enter the courtyard. 

"Kouski, " said Philippe, giving a hand to Flore to help her down. "Youare no longer in Monsieur Rouget's service. You will not sleep hereto-night; get your things together, and go. Benjamin takes yourplace. "

"Are you the master here?" said Flore sarcastically. 

"With your permission, " replied Philippe, squeezing her hand as if ina vice. "Come! we must have an understanding, you and I"; and he ledthe bewildered woman out into the place Saint-Jean. 

"My fine lady, " began the old campaigner, stretching out his righthand, "three days hence, Maxence Gilet will be sent to the shades bythat arm, or his will have taken me off guard. If I die, you will bethe mistress of my poor imbecile uncle; 'bene sit. ' If I remain on mypins, you'll have to walk straight, and keep him supplied withfirst-class happiness. If you don't, I know girls in Paris who are, with all due respect, much prettier than you; for they are onlyseventeen years old: they would make my uncle excessively happy, andthey are in my interests. Begin your attentions this very evening; ifthe old man is not as gay as a lark to-morrow morning, I have only aword to say to you; it is this, pay attention to it, --there is but oneway to kill a man without the interference of the law, and that is tofight a duel with him; but I know three ways to get rid of a woman:mind that, my beauty!"

During this address, Flore shook like a person with the ague. 

"Kill Max--?" she said, gazing at Philippe in the moonlight. 

"Come, here's my uncle. "

Old Rouget, turning a deaf ear to Monsieur Hochon's remonstrances, nowcame out into the street, and took Flore by the hand, as a miser mighthave grasped his treasure; he drew her back to the house and into hisown room and shut the door. 

"This is Saint-Lambert's day, and he who deserts his place, loses it, "remarked Benjamin to the Pole. 

"My master will shut your mouth for you, " answered Kouski, departingto join Max who established himself at the hotel de la Poste. 

On the morrow, between nine and eleven o'clock, all the women talkedto each other from door to door throughout the town. The story of thewonderful change in the Rouget household spread everywhere. The upshotof the conversations was the same on all sides, --

"What will happen at the banquet between Max and Colonel Bridau?"

Philippe said but few words to the Vedie, --"Six hundred francs'annuity, or dismissal. " They were enough, however, to keep herneutral, for a time, between the two great powers, Philippe and Flore. 

Knowing Max's life to be in danger, Flore became more affectionate toRouget than in the first days of their alliance. Alas! in love, aself-interested devotion is sometimes more agreeable than a truthfulone; and that is why many men pay so much for clever deceivers. TheRabouilleuse did not appear till the next morning, when she came downto breakfast with Rouget on her arm. Tears filled her eyes as shebeheld, sitting in Max's place, the terrible adversary, with hissombre blue eyes, and the cold, sinister expression on his face. 

"What is the matter, mademoiselle?" he said, after wishing his unclegood-morning. 

"She can't endure the idea of your fighting Maxence, " said old Rouget. 

"I have not the slightest desire to kill Gilet, " answered Philippe. "He need only take himself off from Issoudun and go to America on aventure. I should be the first to advise you to give him an outfit, and to wish him a safe voyage. He would soon make a fortune there, andthat is far more honorable than turning Issoudun topsy-turvy at night, and playing the devil in your household. "

"Well, that's fair enough, " said Rouget, glancing at Flore. 

"A-mer-i-ca!" she ejaculated, sobbing. 

"It is better to kick his legs about in a free country than have themrot in a pine box in France. However, perhaps you think he is a goodshot, and can kill me; it's on the cards, " observed the colonel. 

"Will you let me speak to him?" said Flore, imploring Philippe in ahumble and submissive tone. 

"Certainly; he can come here and pack up his things. I will stay withmy uncle during that time; for I shall not leave the old man again, "replied Philippe. 

"Vedie, " cried Flore, "run to the hotel, and tell Monsieur Gilet thatI beg him--"

"--to come and get his belongings, " said Philippe, interruptingFlore's message. 

"Yes, yes, Vedie; that will be a good pretext to see me; I must speakto him. "

Terror controlled her hatred; and the shock which her whole beingexperienced when she first encountered this strong and pitiless naturewas now so overwhelming that she bowed before Philippe just as Rougethad been in the habit of bending before her. She anxiously awaitedVedie's return. The woman brought a formal refusal from Max, whorequested Mademoiselle Brazier to send his things to the hotel de laPoste. 

"Will you allow me to take them to him?" she said to Jean-JacquesRouget. 

"Yes, but will you come back?" said the old man. 

"If Mademoiselle is not back by midday, you will give me a power ofattorney to attend to your property, " said Philippe, looking at Flore. "Take Vedie with you, to save appearances, mademoiselle. In future youare to think of my uncle's honor. "

Flore could get nothing out of Max. Desperate at having allowedhimself, before the eyes of the whole town, to be routed out of hisshameless position, Gilet was too proud to run away from Philippe. TheRabouilleuse combated this objection, and proposed that they shouldfly together to America; but Max, who did not want Flore without hermoney, and yet did not wish the girl to see the bottom of his heart, insisted on his intention of killing Philippe. 

"We have committed a monstrous folly, " he said. "We ought all three tohave gone to Paris and spent the winter there; but how could oneguess, from the mere sight of that fellow's big carcass, that thingswould turn out as they have? The turn of events is enough to make onegiddy! I took the colonel for one of those fire-eaters who haven't twoideas in their head; that was the blunder I made. As I didn't have thesense to double like a hare in the beginning, I'll not be such acoward as to back down before him. He has lowered me in the estimationof this town, and I cannot get back what I have lost unless I killhim. "

"Go to America with forty thousand francs. I'll find a way to get ridof that scoundrel, and join you. It would be much wiser. "

"What would people say of me?" he exclaimed. "No; I have buried ninealready. The fellow doesn't seem as if he knew much; he went fromschool to the army, and there he was always fighting till 1815; thenhe went to America, and I doubt if the brute ever set foot in afencing-alley; while I have no match with the sabre. The sabre is hisarm; I shall seem very generous in offering it to him, --for I mean, ifpossible, to let him insult me, --and I can easily run him through. Unquestionably, it is my wisest course. Don't be uneasy; we shall bemasters of the field in a couple of days. "

That it was that a stupid point of honor had more influence over Maxthan sound policy. When Flore got home she shut herself up to cry atease. During the whole of that day gossip ran wild in Issoudun, andthe 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 Giletis clever with all weapons. "

"Never mind, " said the old provincial diplomatist; "Philippe hasmanaged this thing well from the beginning. I should never havethought 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 conductbefore 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 isgoing to set his teeth in Colonel Bridau. That's pretty serious amongyou gentlemen of the Old Guard. "

"You make fun of it, do you? Because the poor fellow amused himself alittle at night, you are all against him, " said Potel. "But Gilet is aman who couldn't stay in a hole like Issoudun without findingsomething to do. "

"Well, gentlemen, " remarked another, "Max and the colonel must playout their game. Bridau had to avenge his brother. Don't you rememberMax's treachery to the poor lad?"

"Bah! nothing but an artist, " said Renard. 

"But the real question is about the old man's property, " said a third. "They say Monsieur Gilet was laying hands on fifty thousand francs ayear, when the colonel turned him out of his uncle's house. "

"Gilet rob a man! Come, don't say that to any one but me, MonsieurCanivet, " cried Potel. "If you do, I'll make you swallow your tongue, --and without any sauce. "

Every household in town offered prayers for the honorable ColonelBridau. 

 CHAPTER XVI

Towards four o'clock the following day, the officers of the old armywho were at Issoudun or its environs, were sauntering about the placedu Marche, in front of an eating-house kept by a man named Lacroix, and waiting the arrival of Colonel Philippe Bridau. The banquet inhonor of the coronation was to take place with military punctuality atfive o'clock. Various groups of persons were talking of Max'sdiscomfiture, and his dismissal from old Rouget's house; for not onlywere the officers to dine at Lacroix's, but the common soldiers haddetermined on a meeting at a neighboring wine-shop. Among theofficers, Potel and Renard were the only ones who attempted to defendMax. 

"Is it any of our business what takes place among the old man'sheirs?" said Renard. 

"Max is weak with women, " remarked the cynical Potel. 

"There'll be sabres unsheathed before long, " said an oldsub-lieutenant, who cultivated a kitchen-garden in the upper Baltan. "If Monsieur Maxence Gilet committed the folly of going to live underold Rouget's roof, he would he a coward if he allowed himself to beturned off like a valet without asking why. "

"Of course, " said Mignonnet dryly. "A folly that doesn't succeedbecomes a crime. "

At this moment Max joined the old soldiers of Napoleon, and wasreceived in significant silence. Potel and Renard each took an arm oftheir friend, and walked about with him, conversing. PresentlyPhilippe was seen approaching in full dress; he trailed his cane afterhim with an imperturbable air which contrasted with the forcedattention Max was paying to the remarks of his two supporters. Bridau's hand was grasped by Mignonnet, Carpentier, and severalothers. This welcome, 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 tendernesses, hadawakened in the latter's mind. 

"We shall fight, " he said to Renard, "and to the death. Thereforedon't talk to me any more; let me play my part well. "

After these words, spoken in a feverish tone, the three Bonapartistsreturned to the group of officers and mixed among them. Max bowedfirst to Bridau, who returned his bow, and the two exchanged a frigidglance. 

"Come, gentlemen, let us take our seats, " said Potel. 

"And drink to the health of the Little Corporal, who is now in theparadise of heroes, " cried Renard. 

The company poured into the long, low dining-hall of the restaurantLacroix, the windows of which opened on the market-place. Each guesttook his seat at the table, where, in compliance with Philippe'srequest, the two adversaries were placed directly opposite to eachother. Some young men of the town, among them several Knights ofIdleness, anxious to know what might happen at the banquet, werewalking about the street and discussing the critical position intowhich Philippe had contrived to force Max. They all deplored thecrisis, though each considered the duel to be inevitable. 

Everything went off well until the dessert, though the two antagonistsdisplayed, in spite of the apparent joviality of the dinner, a certainvigilance that resembled disquietude. While waiting for the quarrelthat both were planning, Philippe showed admirable coolness, and Max adistracting gayety; but to an observer, each was playing a part. 

When the desert 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 your glass, " whispered Renard to Max. 

Max poured out some wine. 

"To the Grand Army!" cried Philippe, with genuine enthusiasm. 

"To the Grand Army!" was repeated with acclamation by every voice. 

At this moment eleven private soldiers, among whom were Benjamin andKouski, 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 hadperhaps been grieving that the Emperor's agony was over. 

"I claim the second toast, " said Mignonnet, as he rose. "Let us drinkto those who attempted to restore his son!"

Every one present, except Maxence Gilet, bowed to Philippe Bridau, andstretched their glasses towards him. 

"One word, " said Max, rising. 

"It is Max! it is Max!" cried voices outside; and then a deep silencereigned in the room and in the street, for Gilet's known charactermade every one expect a taunt. 

"May we _all_ meet again at this time next year, " said Max, bowingironically to Philippe. 

"It's coming!" whispered Kouski to his neighbor. 

"The Paris police would never allow a banquet of this kind, " saidPotel to Philippe. 

"Why do the devil to you mention the police to Colonel Bridau?" saidMaxence insolently. 

"Captain Potel--_he_--meant no insult, " said Philippe, smiling coldly. The stillness was so profound that the buzzing of a fly could havebeen heard if there had been one. 

"The police were sufficiently afraid of me, " resumed Philippe, "tosend me to Issoudun, --a place where I have had the pleasure of meetingold comrades, but where, it must be owned, there is a dearth ofamusement. For a man who doesn't despise folly, I'm rather restricted. However, it is certainly economical, for I am not one of those to whomfeather-beds give incomes; Mariette of the Grand Opera cost mefabulous sums. "

"Is that remark meant for me, my dear colonel?" asked Max, sending aglance at Philippe which was like a current of electricity. 

"Take it as you please, " answered Bridau. 

"Colonel, my two friends here, Renard and Potel, will call to-morrowon--"

"--on Mignonnet and Carpentier, " answered Philippe, cutting shortMax'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 ofordinary conversation; there was nothing solemn in the affair exceptthe dead silence in which it took place. 

"Look here, you others!" cried Philippe, addressing the soldiers whostood behind the officers; "remember that our affairs don't concernthe bourgeoisie--not a word, therefore, on what goes on here. It isfor 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 plentiful. Theantagonists and their four seconds made it a point of honor that aduel, involving so large a fortune, and the reputation of two mennoted for their courage, should not appear the result of an ordinarysquabble. No two gentlemen could have behaved better than Philippe andMax; in this respect the anxious waiting of the young men andtownspeople grouped about the market-place was balked. All the guests, like true soldiers, kept silence as to the episode which took place atdessert. At ten o'clock that night the two adversaries were informedthat the sabre was the weapon agreed upon by the seconds; the placechosen for the rendezvous was behind the chancel of the church of theCapuchins at eight o'clock the next morning. Goddet, who was at thebanquet in his quality of former army surgeon, was requested to bepresent at the meeting. The seconds agreed that, no matter what mighthappen, the combat should last only ten minutes. 

At eleven o'clock that night, to Colonel Bridau's amazement, MonsieurHochon appeared at his rooms just as he was going to bed, escortingMadame Hochon. 

"We know what has happened, " said the old lady, with her eyes full oftears, "and I have come to entreat you not to leave the houseto-morrow morning without saying your prayers. Lift your soul to God!"

"Yes, madame, " said Philippe, to whom old Hochon made a sign frombehind his wife's back. 

"That is not all, " said Agathe's godmother. "I stand in the place ofyour poor mother, and I divest myself, for you, of a thing which Ihold most precious, --here, " she went on, holding towards Philippe atooth, fastened upon a piece of black velvet embroidered in gold, towhich 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, thepatron 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. 

"Yes, " replied the old lady. 

"Then I have no right to wear that accoutrement any more than if itwere a cuirass, " cried Agathe's son. 

"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, "I shall prayfor you. "

"Well, madame, prayer--and a good point--can do no harm, " saidPhilippe, making a thrust as if to pierce Monsieur Hochon's heart. 

The old lady kissed the colonel on his forehead. As she left thehouse, she gave thirty francs--all the money she possessed--toBenjamin, requesting him to sew the relic into the pocket of hismaster's trousers. Benjamin did so, --not that he believed in thevirtue of the tooth, for he said his master had a much better talismanthan that against Gilet, but because his conscience constrained him tofulfil a commission for which he had been so liberally paid. MadameHochon went home full of confidence in Saint Solange. 

At eight o'clock the next morning, December third, the weather beingcloudy, Max, accompanied by his seconds and the Pole, arrived on thelittle meadow which then surrounded the apse of the church of theCapuchins. There he found Philippe and his seconds, with Benjamin, waiting for him. Potel and Mignonnet paced off twenty-four feet; ateach extremity, the two attendants drew a line on the earth with aspade: the combatants were not allowed to retreat beyond that line, onpain of being thought cowardly. Each was to stand at his own line, andadvance as he pleased when the seconds gave the word. 

"Do we take off our coats?" said Philippe to his adversary coldly. 

"Of course, " answered Maxence, with the assumption of a bully. 

They did so; the rosy tints of their skin appearing through thecambric of their shirts. Each, armed with a cavalry sabre selected ofequal weight, about three pounds, and equal length, three feet, placedhimself 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 involuntaryadmiration. 

"They are a proud pair!"

The exclamation came from Potel. 

Just as the signal was given, Max caught sight of Fario's sinisterface looking at them through the hole which the Knights of Idlenesshad made for the pigeons in the roof of the church. Those eyes, whichsent forth streams of fire, hatred, and revenge, dazzled Max for amoment. The colonel went straight to his adversary, and put himself onguard in a way that gained him an advantage. Experts in the art ofkilling, know that, of two antagonists, the ablest takes the "insideof the pavement, "--to use an expression which gives the reader atangible idea of the effect of a good guard. That pose, which is insome degree observant, marks so plainly a duellist of the first rankthat a feeling of inferiority came into Max's soul, and produced thesame disarray of powers which demoralizes a gambler when, in presenceof a master or a lucky hand, he loses his self-possession and playsless well than usual. 

"Ah! the lascar!" thought Max, "he's an expert; I'm lost!"

He attempted a "moulinet, " and twirled his sabre with the dexterity ofa single-stick. He wanted to bewilder Philippe, and strike his weaponso as to disarm him; but at the first encounter he felt that thecolonel's wrist was iron, with the flexibility of a steel string. Maxence was then forced, unfortunate fellow, to think of another move, while Philippe, whose eyes were darting gleams that were sharper thanthe flash of their blades, parried every attack with the coolness of afencing-master wearing his plastron in an armory. 

Between two men of the calibre of these combatants, there occurs aphenomenon very like that which takes place among the lower classes, during the terrible tussle called "the savante, " which is fought withthe feet, as the name implies. Victory depends on a false movement, onsome error of the calculation, rapid as lightning, which must be madeand followed almost instinctively. During a period of time as short tothe spectators as it seems long to the combatants, the contest lies inobservation, so keen as to absorb the powers of mind and body, and yetconcealed by preparatory feints whose slowness and apparent prudenceseem to show that the antagonists are not intending to fight. Thismoment, which is followed by a rapid and decisive struggle, isterrible to a connoisseur. At a bad parry from Max the colonel sentthe sabre spinning from his hand. 

"Pick it up, " he said, pausing; "I am not the man to kill a disarmedenemy. "

There was something atrocious in the grandeur of these words; theyseemed to show such consciousness of superiority that the onlookerstook them for a shrewd calculation. In fact, when Max replaced himselfin position, he had lost his coolness, and was once more confrontedwith his adversary's raised guard which defended the colonel's wholeperson while it menaced his. He resolved to redeem his shameful defeatby a bold stroke. He no longer guarded himself, but took his sabre inboth hands and rushed furiously on his antagonist, resolved to killhim, if he had to lose his own life. Philippe received a sabre-cutwhich slashed open his forehead and a part of his face, but he cleftMax's head obliquely by the terrible sweep of a "moulinet, " made tobreak the force of the annihilating stroke Max aimed at him. These twosavage blows ended the combat, at the ninth minute. Fario came down togloat over the sight of his enemy in the convulsions of death; for themuscles of a man of Maxence Gilet's vigor quiver horribly. Philippewas carried back to his uncle's house. 

Thus perished a man destined to do great deeds had he lived his lifeamid environments which were suited to him; a man treated by Nature asa favorite child, for she gave him courage, self-possession, and thepolitical sagacity of a Cesar Borgia. But education had not bestowedupon him that nobility of conduct and ideas without which nothinggreat is possible in any walk of life. He was not regretted, becauseof 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 theexploits of the Order of Idleness, to the great satisfaction of thetown of Issoudun. Philippe therefore had nothing to fear inconsequence of the duel, which seemed almost the result of divinevengeance: its circumstances were related throughout that whole regionof country, with unanimous praise for the bravery of the twocombatants. 

"But they had better both have been killed, " remarked MonsieurMouilleron; "it would have been a good riddance for the Government. "

The situation of Flore Brazier would have been very embarrassing wereit not for the condition into which she was thrown by Max's death. Abrain-fever set in, combined with a dangerous inflammation resultingfrom her escapade to Vatan. If she had had her usual health, she mighthave fled the house where, in the room above her, Max's room, and inMax's bed, lay and suffered Max's murderer. She hovered between lifeand death for three months, attended by Monsieur Goddet, who was alsoattending Philippe. 

As soon as Philippe was able to hold a pen, he wrote the followingletters:--

 To Monsieur Desroches:

 I have already killed the most venomous of the two reptiles; not however without getting my own head split open by a sabre; but the rascal struck with a dying hand. The 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 himself, now, while she is repenting of her sins. Meantime, on my side I have, thanks to that old trump, Hochon, the doctor of Issoudun, one named Goddet, a worthy soul who conceives 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 advised by my staunch 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 religion: 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 overheard him say that if, after the old man's death, he was obliged to marry Flore, he didn'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 deVendome, Marais:

 My dear old Fellow, --Find out if the little rat Cesarine 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 behavior; no theatre morals. She must present herself as the daughter of a brave soldier, killed on the battle-field. Therefore, 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 engagements, 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. I'll tell you all about it some day. Ah! old fellow, the good times are coming back for you and me; we'll amuse ourselves once more, or we are not the pair we really are. If you can send me five hundred more cartridges I'll bite them. 

 Adieu, my old fire-eater. Light your pipe with this letter. Mind, the daughter of the officer is to come from Chateauroux, and must seem to be in need of assistance. I hope however that I shall not be driven to such dangerous expedients. Remember me to Mariette and all our friends. 

Agathe, informed by Madame Hochon of what had happened, rushed toIssoudun, and was received by her brother, who gave her Philippe'sformer room. The poor mother's tenderness for the worthless sonrevived in all its maternal strength; a few happy days were hers atlast, as she listened to the praises which the whole town bestowedupon her hero. 

"After all, my child, " said Madame Hochon on the day of her arrival, "youth must have its fling. The dissipations of a soldier under theEmpire must, of course, be greater than those of young men who arelooked after by their fathers. Oh! if you only knew what went on hereat night under that wretched Max! Thanks to your son, Issoudun nowbreathes and sleeps in peace. Philippe has come to his senses ratherlate; he told us frankly that those three months in the Luxembourgsobered him. Monsieur Hochon is delighted with his conduct here; everyone thinks highly of it. If he can be kept away from the temptationsof 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. Thatwily politician did not wish to have recourse to Cesarine unless hecontinued to be an object of horror to Mademoiselle Brazier. He sawthat Flore had been thoroughly broken to harness by Max; he knew shewas an essential part of his uncle's life, and he greatly preferred touse her rather than send for the ballet-girl, who might take it intoher head to marry the old man. Fouche advised Louis XVIII. To sleep inNapoleon's sheets instead of granting the charter; and Philippe wouldhave liked to remain in Gilet's sheets; but he was reluctant to riskthe good reputation he had made for himself in Berry. To take Max'splace 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 hisuncle's house and at his uncle's expense; but he could not have Floreunless her character were whitewashed. Hampered by this difficulty, and stimulated by the hope of finally getting hold of the property, the idea came into his head of making his uncle marry theRabouilleuse. With this in view he requested his mother to go and seethe girl and treat her in a sisterly manner. 

"I must confess, my dear mother, " he said, in a canting tone, lookingat Monsieur and Madame Hochon who accompanied her, "that my uncle'sway of life is not becoming; he could, however, make MademoiselleBrazier respected by the community if he chose. Wouldn't it be farbetter for her to be Madame Rouget than the servant-mistress of an oldbachelor? She had better obtain a definite right to his property by amarriage contract then threaten a whole family with disinheritance. Ifyou, or Monsieur Hochon, or some good priest would speak of the matterto both parties, you might put a stop to the scandal which offendsdecent people. Mademoiselle Brazier would be only too happy if youwere to welcome her as a sister, and I as an aunt. "

On the morrow Agathe and Madame Hochon appeared at Flore's bedside, and repeated to the sick girl and to Rouget, the excellent sentimentsexpressed by Philippe. Throughout Issoudun the colonel was talked ofas a man of noble character, especially because of his conduct towardsFlore. For a month, the Rabouilleuse heard Goddet, her doctor, theindividual who has paramount influence over a sick person, therespectable Madame Hochon, moved by religious principle, and Agathe, so gentle and pious, all representing to her the advantages of amarriage with Rouget. And when, attracted by the idea of becomingMadame Rouget, a dignified and virtuous bourgeoisie, she grew eager torecover, so that the marriage might speedily be celebrated, it was notdifficult to make her understand that she would not be allowed toenter the family of the Rougets if she intended to turn Philippe fromits doors. 

"Besides, " remarked the doctor, "you really owe him this good fortune. Max would never have allowed you to marry old Rouget. And, " he addedin her ear, "if you have children, you can revenge Max, for that willdisinherit the Bridaus. "

Two months after the fatal duel in February, 1823, the sick woman, urged by those about her, and implored by Rouget, consented to receivePhilippe, the sight of whose scars made her weep, but whose softenedand affectionate manner calmed her. By Philippe's wish they were leftalone together. 

"My dear child, " said the soldier. "It is I, who, from the start, haveadvised your marriage with my uncle; if you consent, it will takeplace as soon as you are quite recovered. "

"So they tell me, " she replied. 

"Circumstances have compelled me to give you pain, it is naturaltherefore that I should wish to do you all the good I can. Wealth, respect, and a family position are worth more than what you have lost. You wouldn'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 getrid of you. Come, my dear, let us understand each other, and livehappily. You shall be my aunt, and nothing more than my aunt. You willtake care that my uncle does not forget me in his will; on my side, you shall see how well I will have you treated in the marriagecontract. Keep calm, think it over, and we will talk of it later. Allsensible people, indeed the whole town, urge you to put an end to yourillegal position; no one will blame you for receiving me. It is wellunderstood in the world that interests go before feelings. By the dayof your marriage you will be handsomer than ever. The pallor ofillness has given you an air of distinction, and on my honor, if myuncle did not love you so madly, you should be the wife of ColonelBridau. "

Philippe left the room, having dropped this hint into Flore's mind towaken 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 ather feet. In this scene Philippe repeated, in miniature, that ofRichard III. With the queen he had widowed. The meaning of it is thatpersonal calculation, hidden under sentiment, has a powerful influenceon the heart, and is able to dissipate even genuine grief. This ishow, in individual life, Nature does that which in works of genius isthought to be consummate art: she works by self-interest, --the geniusof money. 

At the beginning of April, 1823, the hall of Jean-Jacques Rouget'shouse was the scene of a splendid dinner, given to celebrate thesigning of the marriage contract between Mademoiselle Flore Brazierand the old bachelor. The guests were Monsieur Heron, the fourwitnesses, Messieurs Mignonnet, Carpentier, Hochon, and Goddet, themayor and the curate, Agathe Bridau, Madame Hochon, and her friendMadame Borniche, the two old ladies who laid down the law to thesociety of Issoudun. The bride was much impressed by this concession, obtained by Philippe, and intended by the two ladies as a mark ofprotection to a repentant woman. Flore was in dazzling beauty. Thecurate, who for the last fortnight had been instructing the ignorantcrab-girl, was to allow her, on the following day, to make her firstcommunion. The marriage was the text of the following pious article inthe "Journal du Cher, " published at Bourges, and in the "Journal del'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 ceremony 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. 

 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 inheritance 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 onehundred thousand francs, and a life annuity of thirty thousand more. 

After the wedding, which was sumptuous, Agathe returned to Paris thehappiest of mothers, and told Joseph and Desroches what she called thegood news. 

"Your son Philippe is too wily a man not to keep his paw on thatinheritance, " said the lawyer, when he had heard Madame Bridau to theend. "You and your poor Joseph will never get one penny of yourbrother's property. "

"You, and Joseph too, will always be unjust to that poor boy, " saidthe mother. "His conduct before the Court of Peers was worthy of astatesman; he succeeded in saving many heads. Philippe's errors camefrom his great faculties being unemployed. He now sees how faults ofconduct injure the prospects of a man who has his way to make. He isambitious; that I am sure of; and I am not the only one to predict hisfuture. Monsieur Hochon firmly believes that Philippe has a nobledestiny before him. "

"Oh! if he chooses to apply his perverted powers to making hisfortune, I have no doubt he will succeed: he 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. 

"You will see!" exclaimed Desroches. "Fortunate or unfortunate, Philippe will remain the man of the rue Mazarin, the murderer ofMadame Descoings, the domestic thief. But don't worry yourself; hewill manage to appear honest to the world. "

After breakfast, on the morning succeeding the marriage, Philippe tookMadame Rouget by the arm when his uncle rose from table and wentupstairs to dress, --for the pair had come down, the one in hermorning-robe, and the other in his dressing-gown. 

"My dear aunt, " said the colonel, leading her into the recess of awindow, "you now belong to the family. Thanks to me, the law has tiedthe knot. Now, no nonsense. I intend that you and I should play aboveboard. I know the tricks you will try against me; and I shall watchyou like a duenna. You will never go out of this house except on myarm; and you will never leave me. As to what passes within the house, damn it, you'll find me like a spider in the middle of his web. Hereis something, " he continued, showing the bewildered woman a letter, "which will prove to you that I could, while you were lying illupstairs, unable to move hand or foot, have turned you out of doorswithout 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 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 Russian, 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 Marsay); the lively actress captured him by the dress of her new role. Tullia is with the Duc de Rhetore, Mariette is still with the Duc de Maufrigneuse; 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 remind you of them. 

 Nathan, Florine, Bixiou, Finot, Mariette, Florentine, Giroudeau, Tullia

The letter shook in the trembling hands of Madame Rouget, and betrayedthe terror of her mind and body. The aunt dared not look at thenephew, who fixed his eyes upon her with terrible meaning. 

"I trust you, " he said, "as you see; but I expect some return. I havemade you my aunt intending to marry you some day. You are worth moreto me than Esther in managing my uncle. In a year from now, we must bein Paris; the only place where beauty really lives. You will amuseyourself much better there than here; it is a perpetual carnival. Ishall return to the army, and become a general, and you will be agreat lady. There's our future; now work for it. But I must have apledge to bind this agreement. You are to give me, within a month fromnow, a power of attorney from my uncle, which you must obtain underpretence of relieving him of the fatigues of business. Also, a monthlater, I must have a special power of attorney to transfer the incomein the Funds. When that stands in my name, you and I have an equalinterest 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 canmarry my aunt at the end of a year's widowhood; but I could not marrya 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 paleand moist with perspiration, in spite of the season. Flore felt like awoman who had fallen to the bottom of a precipice; the future loomedblack before her; and on its blackness, in the far distance, wereshapes of monstrous things, indistinctly perceptible, and terrifying. She felt the damp chill of vaults, instinctive fear of the man crushedher; and yet a voice cried in her ear that she deserved to have himfor her master. She was helpless against her fate. Flore Brazier hadhad a room of her own in Rouget's house; but Madame Rouget belonged toher husband, and was now deprived of the free-will of aservant-mistress. In the horrible situation in which she now foundherself, the hope of having a child came into her mind; but she soonrecognized its impossibility. The marriage was to Jean-Jacques whatthe second marriage of Louis XII. Was to that king. The incessantwatchfulness of a man like Philippe, who had nothing to do and neverquitted his post of observation, made any form of vengeance impossible. Benjamin was his innocent and devoted spy. The Vedie trembled beforehim. Flore felt herself deserted and utterly helpless. She began tofear death. Without knowing how Philippe might manage to kill her, shefelt certain that whenever he suspected her of pregnancy her doom wouldbe sealed. The sound of that voice, the veiled glitter of thatgambler's eye, the slightest movement of the soldier, who treated herwith a brutality that was still polite, made her shudder. As to thepower of attorney demanded by the ferocious colonel, who in the eyes ofall Issoudun was a hero, he had it as soon as he wanted it; for Florefell under the man's dominion as France had fallen under that ofNapoleon. 

Like a butterfly whose feet are caught in the incandescent wax of ataper, Rouget rapidly dissipated his remaining strength. In presenceof that decay, the nephew remained as cold and impassible as thediplomatists of 1814 during the convulsions of imperial France. 

Philippe, who did not believe in Napoleon II. , now wrote the followingletter to the minister of war, which Mariette made the Duc deMaufrigneuse convey to that functionary:--

 Monseigneur, --Napoleon is no more. I desired to remain 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 consideration 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 surveillance at Issoudun. 

To this letter was joined a request for permission to go to Paris onurgent family business; and Monsieur Mouilleron annexed letters fromthe mayor, the sub-prefect, and the commissary of police at Issoudun, all bestowing many praises on Philippe's conduct, and dwelling uponthe newspaper article relating to his uncle's marriage. 

Two weeks later, Philippe received the desired permission, and aletter, in which the minister of war informed him that, by order ofthe King, he was, as a preliminary favor, reinstatedlieutenant-colonel in the royal army. 

 CHAPTER XVII

Lieutenant-Colonel Bridau returned to Paris, taking with him his auntand the helpless Rouget, whom he escorted, three days after theirarrival, to the Treasury, where Jean-Jacques signed the transfer ofthe income, which henceforth became Philippe's. The exhausted old manand the Rabouilleuse were now plunged by their nephew into theexcessive dissipations of the dangerous and restless society ofactresses, journalists, artists, and the equivocal women among whomPhilippe had already wasted his youth; where old Rouget foundexcitements that soon after killed him. Instigated by Giroudeau, Lolotte, one of the handsomest of the Opera ballet-girls, was theamiable assassin of the old man. Rouget died after a splendid supperat Florentine's, and Lolotte threw the blame of his death upon a sliceof pate de foie gras; as the Strasburg masterpiece could make nodefence, it was considered settled that the old man died ofindigestion. 

Madame Rouget was in her element in the midst of this excessivelydecollete society; but Philippe gave her in charge of Mariette, andthat monitress did not allow the widow--whose mourning was diversifiedwith a few amusements--to commit any actual follies. 

In October, 1823, Philippe returned to Issoudun, furnished with apower of attorney from his aunt, to liquidate the estate of his uncle;a business that was soon over, for he returned to Paris in March, 1824, with sixteen hundred thousand francs, --the net proceeds of oldRouget's property, not counting the precious pictures, which had neverleft Monsieur Hochon's hands. Philippe put the whole property into thehands of Mongenod and Sons, where young Baruch Borniche was employed, and on whose solvency and business probity old Hochon had given himsatisfactory assurances. This house took his sixteen hundred thousandfrancs at six per cent per annum, on condition of three months' noticein case of the withdrawal of the money. 

One fine day, Philippe went to see his mother, and invited her to bepresent at his marriage, which was witnessed by Giroudeau, Finot, Nathan, and Bixiou. By the terms of the marriage contract, the widowRouget, whose portion of her late husband's property amounted to amillion of francs, secured to her future husband her whole fortune incase she died without children. No invitations to the wedding weresent out, nor any "billets de faire part"; Philippe had his designs. He lodged his wife in an _appartement_ in the rue Saint-Georges, whichhe bought ready-furnished from Lolotte. Madame Bridau the youngerthought it delightful, and her husband rarely set foot in it. Withouther knowledge, Philippe purchased in the rue de Clichy, at a time whenno one suspected the value which property in that quarter would oneday acquire, a magnificent hotel for two hundred and fifty thousandfrancs; of which he paid one hundred and fifty thousand down, takingtwo years to pay the remainder. He spent large sums in altering theinterior and furnishing it; in fact, he put his income for two yearsinto this outlay. The pictures, now restored, and estimated at threehundred thousand francs, appeared in such surroundings in all theirbeauty. 

The accession of Charles X. Had brought into still greater court favorthe family of the Duc de Chaulieu, whose eldest son, the Duc deRhetore, was in the habit of seeing Philippe at Tullia's. UnderCharles X. , the elder branch of the Bourbons, believing itselfpermanently seated on the throne, followed the advice previously givenby Marshal Gouvion-Saint-Cyr to encourage the adherence of thesoldiers of the Empire. Philippe, who had no doubt made invaluablerevelations as to the conspiracies of 1820 and 1822, was appointedlieutenant-colonel in the regiment of the Duc de Maufrigneuse. Thatfascinating nobleman thought himself bound to protect the man fromwhom he had taken Mariette. The corps-de-ballet went for something, therefore, in the appointment. Moreover, it was decided in the privatecouncils of Charles X. , to give a faint tinge of liberalism to thesurroundings of Monseigneur the Dauphin. Philippe, now a sort ofequerry to the Duc de Maufrigneuse, was presented not only to theDauphin, but also to the Dauphine, who was not averse to brusque andsoldierly characters who had become noted for a past fidelity. Philippe thoroughly understood the part the Dauphin had to play; andhe turned the first exhibition of that spurious liberalism to his ownprofit, by getting himself appointed aide-de-camp to a marshal whostood well at court. 

In January, 1827, Philippe, who was now promoted to the Royal Guard aslieutenant-colonel in a regiment then commanded by the Duc deMaufrigneuse, solicited the honor of being ennobled. Under theRestoration, nobility became a sort of perquisite to the "roturiers"who served in the Guard. Colonel Bridau had lately bought the estateof Brambourg, and he now asked to be allowed to entail it under thetitle of count. This favor was accorded through the influence of hismany intimacies in the highest rank of society, where he now appearedin all the luxury of horses, carriages, and liveries; in short, withthe surroundings of a great lord. As soon as he saw himself gazettedin the Almanack under the title of Comte de Brambourg, he began tofrequent the house of a lieutenant-general of artillery, the Comte deSoulanges. 

Insatiable in his wants, and backed by the mistresses of influentialmen, Philippe now solicited the honor of being one of the Dauphin'saides-de-camp. He had the audacity to say to the Dauphin that "an oldsoldier, wounded on many a battle-field and who knew real warfare, might, on occasion, be serviceable to Monseigneur. " Philippe, whocould take the tone of all varieties of sycophancy, became in theregions of the highest social life exactly what the position requiredhim to be; just as at Issoudun, he had copied the respectability ofMignonnet. He had, moreover, a fine establishment and gave fetes anddinners; admitting none of his old friends to his house if he thoughttheir position in life likely to compromise his future. He waspitiless to the companions of his former debauches, and curtly refusedBixiou when that lively satirist asked him to say a word in favor ofGiroudeau, who wanted to re-enter the army after the desertion ofFlorentine. 

"The man has neither manners nor morals, " said Philippe. 

"Ha! did he say that of me?" cried Giroudeau, "of me, who helped himto get rid of his uncle!"

"We'll pay him off yet, " said Bixiou. 

Philippe intended to marry Mademoiselle Amelie de Soulanges, andbecome a general, in command of a regiment of the Royal Guard. Heasked so many favors that, to keep him quiet, they made him aCommander of the Legion of honor, and also Commander of the order ofSaint Louis. One rainy evening, as Agathe and Joseph were returninghome along the muddy streets, they met Philippe in full uniform, bedizened with orders, leaning back in a corner of a handsome coupelined with yellow silk, whose armorial bearings were surmounted with acount'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 apatronizing greeting. 

"He's going it, that fellow!" said Joseph to his mother. "Nevertheless, he might send us something better than mud in ourfaces. "

"He has such a fine position, in such high society, that we ought notto blame him for forgetting us, " said Madame Bridau. "When a man risesto so great a height, he has many obligations to repay, manysacrifices to make; it is natural he should not come to see us, thoughhe may think of us all the same. "

"My dear fellow, " said the Duc de Maufrigneuse one evening, to the newComte de Brambourg, "I am sure that your addresses will be favorablyreceived; but in order to marry Amelie de Soulanges, you must be freeto do so. What have you done with your wife?"

"My wife?" said Philippe, with a gesture, look, and accent whichFrederick Lemaitre was inspired to use in one of his most terribleparts. "Alas! I have the melancholy certainty of losing her. She hasnot a week to live. My dear duke, you don't know what it is to marrybeneath you. A woman who was a cook, and has the tastes of a cook! whodishonors me--ah! I am much to be pitied. I have had the honor toexplain my position to Madame la Dauphine. At the time of themarriage, it was a question of saving to the family a million offrancs which my uncle had left by will to that person. Happily, mywife took to drinking; at her death, I come into possession of thatmillion, which is now in the hands of Mongenod and Sons. I have thirtythousand francs a year in the five per cents, and my landed property, which is entailed, brings me in forty thousand more. If, as I am ledto suppose, Monsieur de Soulanges gets a marshal's baton, I am on thehigh-road with my title of Comte de Brambourg, to becoming general andpeer of France. That will be the proper end of an aide-de-camp of theDauphin. "

After the Salon of 1823, one of the leading painters of the day, amost excellent man, obtained the management of a lottery-office nearthe Markets, for the mother of Joseph Bridau. Agathe was fortunatelyable, soon after, to exchange it on equal terms with the incumbent ofanother office, situated in the rue de Seine, in a house where Josephwas able to have his atelier. The widow now hired an agent herself, and was no longer an expense to her son. And yet, as late as 1828, though she was the directress of an excellent office which she owedentirely to Joseph's fame, Madame Bridau still had no belief in thatfame, which was hotly contested, as all true glory ever will be. Thegreat painter, struggling with his genius, had enormous wants; he didnot earn enough to pay for the luxuries which his relations tosociety, and his distinguished position in the young School of Artdemanded. Though powerfully sustained by his friends of the Cenacleand by Mademoiselle des Touches, he did not please the Bourgeois. Thatbeing, from whom comes the money of these days, never unties itspurse-strings for genius that is called in question; unfortunately, Joseph had the classics and the Institute, and the critics who cry upthose two powers, against him. The brave artist, though backed by Grosand Gerard, by whose influence he was decorated after the Salon of1827, obtained few orders. If the ministry of the interior and theKing's household were with difficulty induced to buy some of hisgreatest pictures, the shopkeepers and the rich foreigners noticedthem still less. Moreover, Joseph gave way rather too much, as we mustall acknowledge, to imaginative fancies, and that produced a certaininequality in his work which his enemies made use of to deny histalent. 

"High art is at a low ebb, " said his friend Pierre Grassou, who madedaubs to suit the taste of the bourgeoisie, in whose _appartements_ finepaintings were at a discount. 

"You ought to have a whole cathedral to decorate; that's what youwant, " declared Schinner; "then you would silence criticism with amaster-stroke. "

Such speeches, which alarmed the good Agathe, only corroborated thejudgment she had long since formed upon Philippe and Joseph. Factssustained that judgment in the mind of a woman who had never ceased tobe a provincial. Philippe, her favorite child, was he not the greatman of the family at last? in his early errors she saw only theebullitions of youth. Joseph, to the merit of whose productions shewas insensible, for she saw them too long in process of gestation toadmire them when finished, seemed to her no more advanced in 1828 thanhe was in 1816. Poor Joseph owed money, and was bowed down by theburden of debt; he had chosen, she felt, a worthless career that madehim no return. She could not conceive why they had given him the crossof the Legion of honor. Philippe, on the other hand, rich enough tocease gambling, a guest at the fetes of _Madame_, the brilliant colonelwho at all reviews and in all processions appeared before her eyes insplendid uniforms, with his two crosses on his breast, realized allher maternal dreams. One such day of public ceremony effaced fromAgathe's mind the horrible sight of Philippe's misery on the Quai del'Ecole; on that day he passed his mother at the self-same spot, inattendance on the Dauphin, with plumes in his shako, and his pelissegorgeous with gold and fur. Agathe, who to her artist son was now asort of devoted gray sister, felt herself the mother of none but thedashing aide-de-camp to his Royal Highness, the Dauphin of France. Proud of Philippe, she felt he made the ease and happiness of herlife, --forgetting that the lottery-office, by which she was enabled tolive at all, came through Joseph. 

One day Agathe noticed that her poor artist was more worried thanusual by the bill of his color-man, and she determined, though cursinghis profession in her heart, to free him from his debts. The poorwoman kept the house with the proceeds of her office, and took carenever to ask Joseph for a farthing. Consequently she had no money ofher own; but she relied on Philippe's good heart and well-filledpurse. For three years she had waited in expectation of his coming tosee her; she now imagined that if she made an appeal to him he wouldbring some enormous sum; and her thoughts dwelt on the happiness sheshould 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 toPhilippe:--

 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 yourself, 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 days later the concierge brought to the atelier, where poor Agathewas breakfasting with Joseph, the following terrible letter:--

 My dear Mother, --A man does not marry a Mademoiselle Amelie de Soulanges without the purse of Fortunatus, 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 thefloor. The slight noise made by the paper, and the smothered butdreadful exclamation which escaped Agathe startled Joseph, who hadforgotten his mother for a moment and was vehemently rubbing in asketch; he leaned his head round the edge of his canvas to see whathad happened. The sight of his mother stretched out on the floor madehim drop palette and brushes, and rush to lift what seemed a lifelessbody. He took Agathe in his arms and carried her to her own bed, andsent the servant for his friend Horace Bianchon. As soon as he couldquestion his mother she told him of her letter to Philippe, and of theanswer she had received from him. The artist went to his atelier andpicked up the letter, whose concise brutality had broken the tenderheart of the poor mother, and shattered the edifice of trust hermaternal preference had erected. When Joseph returned to her bedsidehe had the good feeling to be silent. He did not speak of his brotherin the three weeks during which--we will not say the illness, but--thedeath agony of the poor woman lasted. Bianchon, who came every day andwatched his patient with the devotion of a true friend, told Josephthe truth on the first day of her seizure. 

"At her age, " he said, "and under the circumstances which havehappened to her, all we can hope to do is to make her death as littlepainful as possible. "

She herself felt so surely called of God that she asked the next dayfor the religious help of old Abbe Loraux, who had been her confessorfor more than twenty-two years. As soon as she was alone with him, andhad poured her griefs into his heart, she said--as she had said toMadame Hochon, and had repeated to herself again and again throughouther life:--

"What have I done to displease God? Have I not loved Him with all mysoul? Have I wandered from the path of grace? What is my sin? Can I beguilty of wrong when I know not what it is? Have I the time to repairit?"

"No, " said the old man, in a gentle voice. "Alas! your life seems tohave been pure and your soul spotless; but the eye of God, poorafflicted creature, is keener than that of his ministers. I see thetruth too late; for you have misled even me. "

Hearing these words from lips that had never spoken other thanpeaceful and pleasant words to her, Agathe rose suddenly in her bedand opened her eyes wide, with terror and distress. 

"Tell me! tell me!" she cried. 

"Be comforted, " said the priest. "Your punishment is a proof that youwill receive pardon. God chastens his elect. Woe to those whosemisdeeds meet with fortunate success; they will be kneaded again inhumanity until they in their turn are sorely punished for simpleerrors, and are brought to the maturity of celestial fruits. Yourlife, my daughter, has been one long error. You have fallen into thepit which you dug for yourself; we fail ever on the side we haveourselves weakened. You gave your heart to an unnatural son, in whomyou made your glory, and you have misunderstood the child who is yourtrue glory. You have been so deeply unjust that you never even saw thestriking contrast between the brothers. You owe the comfort of yourlife to Joseph, while your other son has pillaged you repeatedly. Thepoor son, who loves you with no return of equal tenderness, gives youall the comfort that your life has had; the rich son, who never thinksof you, despises you and desires your death--"

"Oh! no, " she cried. 

"Yes, " resumed the priest, "your humble position stands in the way ofhis proud hopes. Mother, these are your sins! Woman, your sorrows andyour anguish foretell that you shall know the peace of God. Your sonJoseph is so noble that his tenderness has never been lessened by theinjustice your maternal preferences have done him. Love him now; givehim all your heart during your remaining days; pray for him, as Ishall pray for you. "

The eyes of the mother, opened by so firm a hand, took in with oneretrospective glance the whole course of her life. Illumined by thisflash of light, she saw her involuntary wrong-doing and burst intotears. The old priest was so deeply moved at the repentance of a beingwho had sinned solely through ignorance, that he left the room hastilylest she should see his pity. 

Joseph returned to his mother's room about two hours after herconfessor had left her. He had been to a friend to borrow thenecessary money to pay his most pressing debts, and he came in ontiptoe, thinking that his mother was asleep. He sat down in anarmchair without her seeing him; but he sprang up with a cold chillrunning through him as he heard her say, in a voice broken withsobs, --

"Will he forgive me?"

"What is it, mother?" he exclaimed, shocked at the stricken face ofthe poor woman, and thinking the words must mean the delirium thatprecedes death. 

"Ah, Joseph! can you pardon me, my child?" she cried. 

"For what?" he said. 

"I have never loved you as you deserved to be loved. "

"Oh, what an accusation!" he cried. "Not loved me? For seven yearshave we not lived alone together? All these seven years have you nottaken care of me and done everything for me? Do I not see you everyday, --hear your voice? Are you not the gentle and indulgent companionof my miserable life? You don't understand painting?--Ah! but that's agift not always given. I was saying to Grassou only yesterday: 'Whatcomforts me in the midst of my trials is that I have such a goodmother. She is all that an artist's wife should be; she sees toeverything; she takes care of my material wants without ever troublingor worrying me. '"

"No, Joseph, no; you have loved me, but I have not returned you lovefor love. Ah! would that I could live a little longer-- Give me yourhand. "

Agathe took her son's hand, kissed it, held it on her heart, andlooked in his face a long time, --letting him see the azure of her eyesresplendent with a tenderness she had hitherto bestowed on Philippeonly. The painter, well fitted to judge of expression, was so struckby the change, and saw so plainly how the heart of his mother hadopened to him, that he took her in his arms, and held her for somemoments to his heart, crying out like one beside himself, --"My mother!oh, my mother!"

"Ah! I feel that I am forgiven!" she said. "God will confirm thechild's pardon of its mother. "

"You must be calm: don't torment yourself; hear me. I feel myselfloved enough in this one moment for all the past, " he said, as he laidher back upon the pillows. 

During the two weeks' struggle between life and death, there glowedsuch love in every look and gesture and impulse of the soul of thepious creature, that each effusion of her feelings seemed like theexpression of a lifetime. The mother thought only of her son; sheherself counted for nothing; sustained by love, she was unaware of hersufferings. D'Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, PierreGrassou, and Bianchon often kept Joseph company, and she heard themtalking art in a low voice in a corner of her room. 

"Oh, how I wish I knew what color is!" she exclaimed one evening asshe heard them discussing one of Joseph's pictures. 

Joseph, on his side, was sublimely devoted to his mother. He neverleft her chamber; answered tenderness by tenderness, cherishing herupon his heart. The spectacle was never afterwards forgotten by hisfriends; and they themselves, a band of brothers in talent andnobility of nature, were to Joseph and his mother all that they shouldhave been, --friends who prayed, and truly wept; not saying prayers andshedding tears, but one with their friend in thought and action. Joseph, inspired as much by feeling as by genius, divined in theoccasional expression of his mother's face a desire that was deephidden in her heart, and he said one day to d'Arthez, --

"She has loved that brigand Philippe too well not to want to see himbefore she dies. "

Joseph begged Bixiou, who frequented the Bohemian regions wherePhilippe was still occasionally to be found, to persuade thatshameless son to play, if only out of pity, a little comedy oftenderness which might wrap the mother's heart in a winding-sheet ofillusive happiness. Bixiou, in his capacity as an observing andmisanthropical scoffer, desired nothing better than to undertake sucha mission. When he had made known Madame Bridau's condition to theComte de Brambourg, who received him in a bedroom hung with yellowdamask, the colonel laughed. 

"What the devil do you want me to do there?" he cried. "The onlyservice the poor woman can render me is to die as soon as she can; shewould be rather a sorry figure at my marriage with Mademoiselle deSoulanges. The less my family is seen, the better my position. You caneasily understand that I should like to bury the name of Bridau underall the monuments in Pere-Lachaise. My brother irritates me bybringing the name into publicity. You are too knowing not to see thesituation as I do. Look at it as if it were your own: if you were adeputy, with a tongue like yours, you would be as much feared asChauvelin; you would be made Comte Bixiou, and director of theBeaux-Arts. Once there, how should you like it if your grandmotherDescoings were to turn up? Would you want that worthy woman, who lookedlike a Madame Saint-Leon, to be hanging on to you? Would you give heran arm in the Tuileries, and present her to the noble family you weretrying to enter? Damn it, you'd wish her six feet under ground, in aleaden night-gown. Come, breakfast with me, and let us talk of somethingelse. I am a parvenu, my dear fellow, and I know it. I don't choosethat my swaddling-clothes shall be seen. My son will be more fortunatethan I; he will be a great lord. The scamp will wish me dead; I expectit, --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 that poor womanfor a few hours?"

"Whew!" cried Philippe, winking. "So you come from them, do you? I'man old camel, who knows all about genuflections. My mother makes theexcuse 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 chilledto the very soul. 

"Does Philippe know I am ill?" asked Agathe in a piteous tone, the dayafter Bixiou had rendered an account of his fruitless errand. 

Joseph left the room, suffocating with emotion. The Abbe Loraux, whowas sitting by the bedside of his penitent, took her hand and pressedit, and then he answered, "Alas! my child, you have never had but oneson. "

The words, which Agathe understood but too well, conveyed a shockwhich was the beginning of the end. She died twenty hours later. 

In the delirium which preceded death, the words, "Whom does Philippetake after?" escaped her. 

Joseph followed his mother to the grave alone. Philippe had gone, onbusiness it was said, to Orleans; in reality, he was driven from Parisby the following letter, which Joseph wrote to him a moment aftertheir mother had breathed her last sigh:--

 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 bittergrief sorely needed the mechanical distraction which labor is wont togive, was surrounded by friends who agreed with one another never toleave him entirely alone. Thus it happened that Bixiou, who lovedJoseph as much as a satirist can love any one, was sitting in theatelier with a group of other friends about two weeks after Agathe'sfuneral. 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 "ComtesseFlore de Brambourg" made him shudder. He foresaw some new atrocity onthe part of his brother. 

"That brigand, " he cried, "is the devil's own. And he calls himself aman of honor! And he wears a lot of crosses on his breast! And hestruts about at court instead of being bastinadoed! And the scoundrelis called Monsieur le Comte!"

"There are many like him, " said Bixiou. 

"After all, " said Joseph, "the Rabouilleuse deserves her fate, whatever it is. She is not worth pitying; she'd have had my neck wrunglike a chicken's without so much as saying, 'He's innocent. '"

Joseph flung away the letter, but Bixiou caught it in the air, andread 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 determination 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 consecutive 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 unwilling 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 yourself 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 itall. "

"Let us send for the woman who brought the letter; we may get thepreface of the story, " said Bixiou. 

The woman presently appeared, looking, as Bixiou observed, likeperambulating rags. She was, in fact, a mass of old gowns, one on topof another, fringed with mud on account of the weather, the wholemounted on two thick legs with heavy feet which were ill-covered byragged stockings and shoes from whose cracks the water oozed upon thefloor. Above the mound of rags rose a head like those that Charlet hasgiven to his scavenger-women, caparisoned with a filthy bandannahandkerchief slit in the folds. 

"What is your name?" said Joseph, while Bixiou sketched her, leaningon an umbrella belonging to the year II. Of the Republic. 

"Madame Gruget, at your service. I've seen better days, my younggentleman, " she said to Bixiou, whose laugh affronted her. "If my poorgirl hadn't had the ill-luck to love some one too much, you wouldn'tsee 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, andthat's why, at seventy-seven years of age, I'm obliged to take care ofsick folks for ten sous a day, and go--"

"--without clothes?" said Bixiou. "My grandmother nursed up a trey, but she dressed herself properly. "

"Out of my ten sous I have to pay for a lodging--"

"What's the matter with the lady you are nursing?"

"In the first place, she hasn't got any money; and then she has adisease that scares the doctors. She owes me for sixty days' nursing;that's why I keep on nursing her. The husband, who is a count, --she isreally a countess, --will no doubt pay me when she is dead; and so I'velent her all I had. And now I haven't anything; all I did have hasgone to the pawn-brokers. She owes me forty-seven francs and twelvesous, beside thirty francs for the nursing. She wants to kill herselfwith charcoal. I tell her it ain't right; and, indeed, I've had to getthe concierge to look after her while I'm gone, or she's likely tojump out of the window. "

"But what's the matter with her?" said Joseph. 

"Ah! monsieur, the doctor from the Sisters' hospital came; but as tothe disease, " said Madame Gruget, assuming a modest air, "he told meshe must go to the hospital. The case is hopeless. "

"Let us go and see her, " said Bixiou. 

"Here, " said Joseph to the woman, "take these ten francs. "

Plunging his hand into the skull and taking out all his remainingmoney, the painter called a coach from the rue Mazarin and went tofind Bianchon, who was fortunately at home. Meantime Bixiou went offat full speed to the rue de Bussy, after Desroches. The four friendsreached Flore's retreat in the rue du Houssay an hour later. 

"That Mephistopheles on horseback, named Philippe Bridau, " saidBixiou, as they mounted the staircase, "has sailed his boat cleverlyto get rid of his wife. You know our old friend Lousteau? well, Philippe paid him a thousand francs a month to keep Madame Bridau inthe society of Florine, Mariette, Tullia, and the Val-Noble. WhenPhilippe saw his crab-girl so used to pleasure and dress that shecouldn't do without them, he stopped paying the money, and left her toget it as she could--it is easy to know how. By the end of eighteenmonths, the brute had forced his wife, stage by stage, lower andlower; till at last, by the help of a young officer, he gave her ataste for drinking. As he went up in the world, his wife went down;and the countess is now in the mud. The girl, bred in the country, hasa strong constitution. I don't know what means Philippe has latelytaken to get rid of her. I am anxious to study this precious littledrama, for I am determined to avenge Joseph here. Alas, friends, " headded, in a tone which left his three companions in doubt whether hewas jesting or speaking seriously, "give a man over to a vice andyou'll get rid of him. Didn't Hugo say: 'She loved a ball, and died ofit'? So it is. My grandmother loved the lottery. Old Rouget loved aloose life, and Lolotte killed him. Madame Bridau, poor woman, lovedPhilippe, and perished of it. Vice! vice! my dear friends, do you wantto know what vice is? It is the Bonneau of death. "

"Then you'll die of a joke, " said Desroches, laughing. 

Above the fourth floor, the young men were forced to climb one of thesteep, straight stairways that are almost ladders, by which the atticsof Parisian houses are often reached. Though Joseph, who rememberedFlore in all her beauty, expected to see some frightful change, he wasnot prepared for the hideous spectacle which now smote his artist'seye. In a room with bare, unpapered walls, under the sharp pitch of anattic roof, on a cot whose scanty mattress was filled, perhaps, withrefuse cotton, a woman lay, green as a body that has been drowned twodays, thin as a consumptive an hour before death. This putrid skeletonhad a miserable checked handkerchief bound about her head, which hadlost its hair. The circle round the hollow eyes was red, and theeyelids were like the pellicle of an egg. Nothing remained of thebody, once so captivating, but an ignoble, bony structure. As Florecaught sight of the visitors, she drew across her breast a bit ofmuslin which might have been a fragment of a window-curtain, for itwas edged with rust as from a rod. The young men saw two chairs, abroken bureau on which was a tallow-candle stuck into a potato, a fewdishes on the floor, and an earthen fire-pot in a corner of thechimney, in which there was no fire; this was all the furniture of theroom. Bixiou noticed the remaining sheets of writing-paper, broughtfrom some neighboring grocery for the letter which the two women haddoubtless concocted together. The word "disgusting" is a positive towhich no superlative exists, and we must therefore use it to conveythe impression caused by this sight. When the dying woman saw Josephapproaching her, two great tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"She can still weep!" whispered Bixiou. "A strange sight, --tears fromdominos! It is like the miracle of Moses. "

"How burnt up!" cried Joseph. 

"In the fires of repentance, " said Flore. "I cannot get a priest; Ihave 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, "I am a guilty woman; but God never punished any one as he haspunished me! Philippe killed Max, who advised me to do dreadfulthings, 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 thedisease is curable. "

"If you cure her, Philippe Bridau will die of rage, " said Desroches. "I am going to draw up a statement of the condition in which we havefound his wife. He has not brought her before the courts as anadulteress, and therefore her rights as a wife are intact: he shallhave the shame of a suit. But first, we must remove the Comtesse deBrambourg to the private hospital of Doctor Dubois, in the rue duFaubourg-Saint-Denis. She will be well cared for there. Then I willsummon the count for the restoration of the conjugal home. "

"Bravo, Desroches!" cried Bixiou. "What a pleasure to do so much goodthat 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 byan operation. Ah! he will take good care of the case, for her abuse ofliquor has developed a magnificent disease which was thought to belost. "

"Wag of a mangler! Isn't there but one disease in life?" cried Bixiou. 

But Bianchon was already out of sight, so great was his haste to tellDespleins the wonderful news. Two hours later, Joseph's miserablesister-in-law was removed to the decent hospital established by DoctorDubois, which was afterward bought of him by the city of Paris. Threeweeks later, the "Hospital Gazette" published an account of one of theboldest operations of modern surgery, on a case designated by theinitials "F. B. " The patient died, --more from the exhaustion producedby misery and starvation than from the effects of the treatment. 

No sooner did this occur, than the Comte de Brambourg went, in deepmourning, to call on the Comte de Soulanges, and inform him of the sadloss he had just sustained. Soon after, it was whispered about in thefashionable world that the Comte de Soulanges would shortly marry hisdaughter to a parvenu of great merit, who was about to be appointedbrigadier-general and receive command of a regiment of the RoyalGuard. De Marsay told this news to Eugene de Rastignac, as they weresupping together at the Rocher de Cancale, where Bixiou happened tobe. 

"It shall not take place!" said the witty artist to himself. 

Among the many old friends whom Philippe now refused to recognize, there were some, like Giroudeau, who were unable to revengethemselves; but it happened that he had wounded Bixiou, who, thanks tohis brilliant qualities, was everywhere received, and who neverforgave an insult. One day at the Rocher de Cancale, before a numberof well-bred persons who were supping there, Philippe had replied toBixiou, who spoke of visiting him at the hotel de Brambourg: "You cancome and see me when you are made a minister. "

"Am I to turn Protestant before I can visit you?" said Bixiou, pretending to misunderstand the speech; but he said to himself, "Youmay 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, andmetamorphosed himself, by the all-powerful aid of dress, into asecularized priest with green spectacles; then he took a carriage anddrove to the hotel de Soulanges. Received by the count, on sending ina message that he wanted to speak with him on a matter of seriousimportance, he related in a feigned voice the whole story of the deadcountess, the secret particulars of whose horrible death had beenconfided to him by Bianchon; the history of Agathe's death; thehistory of old Rouget's death, of which the Comte de Brambourg hadopenly boasted; the history of Madame Descoings's death; the historyof the theft from the newspaper; and the history of Philippe's privatemorals during his early days. 

"Monsieur le comte, don't give him your daughter until you have madeevery 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 deMarsay. The amphitryon accepted with much nonchalance thehalf-consolatory condolences they made to him as to his rupture withthe house of Soulanges. 

"You can do better, " said Maxime de Trailles. 

"How much money must a man have to marry a demoiselle de Grandlieu?"asked Philippe of de Marsay. 

"You? They wouldn't give you the ugliest of the six for less than tenmillions, " answered de Marsay insolently. 

"Bah!" said Rastignac. "With an income of two hundred thousand francsyou can have Mademoiselle de Langeais, the daughter of the marquis;she is thirty years old, and ugly, and she hasn't a sou; that ought tosuit you. "

"I shall have ten millions two years from now, " said Philippe Bridau. 

"It is now the 16th of January, 1829, " cried du Tillet, laughing. "Ihave been hard at work for ten years and I have not made as much asthat yet. "

"We'll take counsel of each other, " said Bridau; "you shall see howwell I understand finance. "

"How much do you really own?" asked Nucingen. 

"Three millions, excluding my house and my estate, which I shall notsell; in fact, I cannot, for the property is now entailed and goeswith the title. "

Nucingen and du Tillet looked at each other; after that sly glance duTillet said to Philippe, "My dear count, I shall be delighted to dobusiness with you. "

De Marsay intercepted the look du Tillet had exchanged with Nucingen, and which meant, "We will have those millions. " The two bank magnateswere at the centre of political affairs, and could, at a given time, manipulate matters at the Bourse, so as to play a sure game againstPhilippe, when the probabilities might all seem for him and yet besecretly against him. 

The occasion came. In July, 1830, du Tillet and Nucingen had helpedthe Comte de Brambourg to make fifteen hundred thousand francs; hecould therefore feel no distrust of those who had given him such goodadvice. Philippe, who owed his rise to the Restoration, was misled byhis profound contempt for "civilians"; he believed in the triumph ofthe Ordonnances, and was bent on playing for a rise; du Tillet andNucingen, who were sure of a revolution, played against him for afall. The crafty pair confirmed the judgment of the Comte de Brambourgand seemed to share his convictions; they encouraged his hopes ofdoubling his millions, and apparently took steps to help him. Philippefought like a man who had four millions depending on the issue of thestruggle. His devotion was so noticeable, that he received orders togo to Saint-Cloud with the Duc de Maufrigneuse and attend a council. This mark of favor probably saved Philippe's life; for when the ordercame, on the 25th of July, he was intending to make a charge and sweepthe boulevards, when he would undoubtedly have been shot down by hisfriend Giroudeau, who commanded a division of the assailants. 

A month later, nothing was left of Colonel Bridau's immense fortunebut his house and furniture, his estates, and the pictures which hadcome from Issoudun. He committed the still further folly, as he saidhimself, of believing in the restoration of the elder branch, to whichhe remained faithful until 1834. The not imcomprehensible jealousyPhilippe felt on seeing Giroudeau a colonel drove him to re-enter theservice. Unluckily for himself, he obtained, in 1835, the command of aregiment in Algiers, where he remained three years in a post ofdanger, always hoping for the epaulets of a general. But somemalignant influence--that, in fact, of General Giroudeau, --continuallybalked him. Grown hard and brutal, Philippe exceeded the ordinaryseverity of the service, and was hated, in spite of his bravery a laMurat. 

At the beginning of the fatal year 1839, while making a sudden dashupon the Arabs during a retreat before superior forces, he flunghimself against the enemy, followed by only a single company, and fellin, unfortunately, with the main body of the enemy. The battle wasbloody and terrible, man to man, and only a few horsemen escapedalive. Seeing that their colonel was surrounded, these men, who wereat some distance, were unwilling to perish uselessly in attempting torescue him. They heard his cry: "Your colonel! to me! a colonel of theEmpire!" but they rejoined the regiment. Philippe met with a horribledeath, for the Arabs, after hacking him to pieces with theirscimitars, cut off his head. 

Joseph, who was married about this time, through the good offices ofthe Comte de Serizy, to the daughter of a millionaire farmer, inherited his brother's house in Paris and the estate of Brambourg, inconsequence of the entail, which Philippe, had he foreseen thisresult, would certainly have broken. The chief pleasure the painterderived from his inheritance was in the fine collection of paintingsfrom Issoudun. He now possesses an income of sixty thousand francs, and his father-in-law, the farmer, continues to pile up the five-francpieces. Though Joseph Bridau paints magnificent pictures, and rendersimportant services to artists, he is not yet a member of theInstitute. As the result of a clause in the deed of entail, he is nowComte de Brambourg, a fact which often makes him roar with laughteramong his friends in the atelier. 

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. 

Note: The Two Brothers is also known as A Bachelor's Establishment andThe Black Sheep. In other Addendum appearances it is referred to as ABachelor's Establishment. 

Bianchon, Horace Father Goriot The Atheist's Mass Cesar Birotteau The Commission in Lunacy Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Secrets of a Princess The Government Clerks Pierrette A Study of Woman Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine The Seamy Side of History The Magic Skin A Second Home A Prince of Bohemia Letters of Two Brides The Muse of the Department The Imaginary Mistress The Middle Classes Cousin Betty The Country ParsonIn addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following: Another Study of Woman La Grande Breteche

Birotteau, Cesar Cesar Birotteau At the Sign of the Cat and Racket

Bixiou, Jean-Jacques The Purse The Government Clerks Modeste Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Firm of Nucingen The Muse of the Department Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis Beatrix A Man of Business Gaudissart II. The Unconscious Humorists Cousin Pons

Brambourg, Comte de (Title of Philippe Bridau, later Joseph) The Unconscious Humorists

Bridau, Philippe Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Bridau, Joseph The Purse A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Start in Life Modeste Mignon Another Study of Woman Pierre Grassou Letters of Two Brides Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis

Bruel, Jean Francois du The Government Clerks A Start in Life A Prince of Bohemia The Middle Classes A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Daughter of Eve

Bruel, Claudine Chaffaroux, Madame du A Prince of Bohemia A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Letters of Two Brides The Middle Classes

Cabirolle, Madame A Start in Life

Cabirolle, Agathe-Florentine A Start in Life Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Camusot A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Cousin Pons The Muse of the Department Cesar Birotteau At the Sign of the Cat and Racket

Cardot, Jean-Jerome-Severin A Start in Life Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris At the Sign of the Cat and Racket Cesar Birotteau

Chaulieu, Henri, Duc de Letters of Two Brides Modest Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Thirteen

Chrestien, Michel A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Secrets of a Princess

Claparon, Charles Cesar Birotteau Melmoth Reconciled The Firm of Nucingen A Man of Business The Middle Classes

Coloquinte A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Coralie, Mademoiselle A Start in Life A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Desplein The Atheist's Mass Cousin Pons Lost Illusions The Thirteen The Government Clerks Pierrette The Seamy Side of History Modest Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine

Desroches (son) Colonel Chabert A Start in Life A Woman of Thirty The Commission in Lunacy The Government Clerks A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Firm of Nucingen A Man of Business The Middle Classes

Finot, Andoche Cesar Birotteau A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Government Clerks A Start in Life Gaudissart the Great The Firm of Nucingen

Gaillard, Madame Theodore Jealousies of a Country Town A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Beatrix The Unconscious Humorists

Gerard, Francois-Pascal-Simon, Baron Beatrix

Giraud, Leon A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Secrets of a Princess The Unconscious Humorists

Giroudeau A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Start in Life

Gobseck, Esther Van Gobseck The Firm of Nucingen Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Godeschal, Francois-Claude-Marie Colonel Chabert A Start in Life The Commission in Lunacy The Middle Classes Cousin Pons

Godeschal, Marie A Start in Life Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Cousin Pons

Grandlieu, Duc Ferdinand de The Gondreville Mystery The Thirteen Modeste Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Grandlieu, Mademoiselle de Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Grassou, Pierre Pierre Grassou Cousin Betty The Middle Classes Cousin Pons

Gruget, Madame Etienne The Thirteen The Government Clerks

Haudry (doctor) Cesar Birotteau The Thirteen The Seamy Side of History Cousin Pons

Lora, Leon de The Unconscious Humorists A Start in Life Pierre Grassou Honorine Cousin Betty Beatrix

Loraux, Abbe A Start in Life Cesar Birotteau Honorine

Lousteau, Etienne A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life A Daughter of Eve Beatrix The Muse of the Department Cousin Betty A Prince of Bohemia A Man of Business The Middle Classes The Unconscious Humorists

Lupeaulx, Clement Chardin des The Muse of the Department Eugenie Grandet A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Government Clerks Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Ursule Mirouet

Magus, Elie The Vendetta A Marriage Settlement Pierre Grassou Cousin Pons

Matifat (wealthy druggist) Cesar Birotteau Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Firm of Nucingen Cousin Pons

Maufrigneuse, Duc de The Secrets of a Princess A Start in Life Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Nathan, Madame Raoul The Muse of the Department Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Government Clerks Ursule Mirouet Eugenie Grandet The Imaginary Mistress A Prince of Bohemia A Daughter of Eve The Unconscious Humorists

Navarreins, Duc de Colonel Chabert The Muse of the Department The Thirteen Jealousies of a Country Town The Peasantry Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Country Parson The Magic Skin The Gondreville Mystery The Secrets of a Princess Cousin Betty

Rhetore, Duc Alphonse de A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Letters of Two Brides Albert Savarus The Member for Arcis

Ridal, Fulgence A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Unconscious Humorists

Roguin Cesar Birotteau Eugenie Grandet Pierrette The Vendetta

Rouget, Jean-Jacques The Muse of the Department

Schinner, Hippolyte The Purse Pierre Grassou A Start in Life Albert Savarus The Government Clerks Modeste Mignon The Imaginary Mistress The Unconscious Humorists

Serizy, Comte Hugret de A Start in Life Honorine Modeste Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Tillet, Ferdinand du Cesar Birotteau The Firm of Nucingen The Middle Classes Pierrette Melmoth Reconciled A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Secrets of a Princess A Daughter of Eve The Member for Arcis Cousin Betty The Unconscious Humorists

Touches, Mademoiselle Felicite des Beatrix Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Another Study of Woman A Daughter of Eve Honorine Beatrix The Muse of the Department

Vernou, Felicien Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life A Daughter of Eve Cousin Betty