Cousin Bette (51 page)

The Baron could not help smiling at these outrageous sallies.

‘Well, little Bijou is coming tomorrow to bring me an embroidered dressing-gown, a perfect dream! They have been working on it for six months; no one else will have anything like it! Bijou is fond of me because I give her sweets and my old dresses. And besides I send the family notes for the shopkeepers, good for bread, firewood, and meat, and they would break a leading citizen's two shin bones for me, if I wanted them to. I try to do a little good if I can! Oh, I know what it is like to go hungry! Bijou pours out her heart to me, and confides all her little secrets. There's the stuff of a character actress at the Ambigu-Comique in that little girl. Bijou has rosy dreams of wearing fine dresses like mine, and, more wonderful than anything, going about in a carriage. I'll say to her: “Child, how would you like a gentleman of…” How old are you?…' she interrupted her flow of words to ask. ‘seventy-two?…'

‘I have stopped counting.'

‘“How would you like,” I'll say to her, “a gentleman of seventy-two, very natty, who doesn't take tobacco, as sound as my eye, as good as a young man? You'll marry him,
without a licence, of course, and you'll live very nicely together; he'll give you seven thousand francs to set up for yourself; he'll furnish a flat for you, all in mahogany. Then if you're good, he'll take you sometimes to the theatre. He'll give you a hundred francs a month for yourself, and fifty francs for the housekeeping!” I know Bijou, she's like me at fourteen. I jumped for joy when that abominable Crevel made me those very same atrocious propositions. Well, old boy, you will be snugly stowed away there for three years. That's sensible and straightforward; and the arrangement will hold illusions for three or four years, though not longer.'

Hulot had no hesitation, his mind was made up to refuse; but in order not to seem ungrateful to the kind-hearted singer who was doing her best for him in her own fashion, he pretended to waver between vice and virtue.

‘Bless me! You're as slow to warm up as a paving-stone in December!' she said, astonished. ‘Look, you will be creating the happiness of a whole family, a grandfather who totters about, a mother who wears herself out working, and two sisters, one of them no beauty, who between them earn thirty-two sous by ruining their eyes. That will make up for the unhappiness you have caused in your own home. You will be redeeming your sins, and having a good time like a tart at Mabille.'

Hulot, to put an end to this temptation, made the gesture of counting money.

‘Don't worry about ways and means,' Josépha took him up. ‘My duke will lend you ten thousand francs: seven thousand for an embroidering workshop in Bijou's name, three thousand for furnishing; and every three months you will find six hundred and fifty francs here, on your note of hand. When you get your pension back, you can repay the seventeen thousand francs to the Duke. Meantime you'll be as well off as a pig in clover, and hidden away in a corner the police will never find. You can dress yourself up in a big beaver overcoat and look like a comfortable householder of the district. Call yourself Thoul, if that's your fancy. I'll introduce you to Bijou as an uncle of mine, gone bankrupt in Germany, and you'll be pampered like a little tin god. There you are,
Papa!… Who knows? Perhaps you'll have no reason to regret anything that's happened. And in case by any chance you might ever feel bored, you should keep one of your fine onionskins, and then you can come and invite yourself to dinner and spend the evening here.'

‘But I'm the man who only asked to reform and lead a virtuous life! Here, borrow twenty thousand francs for me and I'll be off to America to make my fortune, like my friend d'Aiglemont when Nucingen ruined him.…'

‘You!' cried Josépha. ‘Leave orderly living to shopkeepers and simple soldier-boys and good Fr-r-r-rench citizens who have only their virtue to distinguish them! But you were born for something better than to be a milk-and-water ninny. You are just like me, in a man's shape: a bad lot with a talent and a bent that way!'

‘I had better sleep on it. We can talk about this tomorrow.'

‘You shall dine with the Duke. My Hérouville will receive you as politely as if you had saved the state! And tomorrow you can make up your mind. Come, cheer up, old boy! Life is an overcoat: when it's dirty, we brush it; when there are holes in it, we patch them; but we keep ourselves covered as well as we can!'

This philosophy of vice, and her spirited gaiety, dissipated Hulot's bitter griefs.

Next day, at midday, after a delicious meal, Hulot saw walk in one of those living masterpieces that only Paris in the whole world can create; for only in Paris exists the endless concubinage of luxury and want, of vice and sober virtue, of repressed desire and ever-renewed temptation, which makes this city the heir of Nineveh, Babylon, and Imperial Rome. Mademoiselle Olympe Bijou, a girl of sixteen, had the exquisite face that Raphael found for his Virgins, with innocent eyes saddened by overwork, dreamy dark eyes, shaded by long lashes, their limpidity suffering from long nights of toil, eyes heavy with fatigue; and a complexion with the fineness of porcelain and an almost chlorotic transparency; and a mouth like a half-burst pomegranate, a passionate breast, a rounded figure, pretty hands, dazzlingly pretty white teeth, luxuriant black hair: and all this beauty was done up in
cotton at seventy-five centimes a metre, adorned with an embroidered collar, mounted on stitched leather slippers, and garnished with gloves at twenty-nine sous. The child, quite unconscious of her rare value, had put on her best to come to the grand lady's house. The Baron, seized afresh in the taloned grip of sensuality, felt his whole life centred in his eyes. He forgot everything before this divine creation. He was like a hunter sighting the game: not even the presence of an emperor will prevent him from taking aim!

‘And,' Josépha whispered in his ear, ‘it's guaranteed mint-new; it's a decent girl! And with no bread to eat. That's Paris! I was just like her!'

‘It's a bargain,' replied the old man, rising to his feet and rubbing his hands.

When Olympe Bijou had gone, Josépha looked at the Baron slyly.

‘If you don't want trouble, Papa,' she said, ‘be as strict as the High Court Judge on his judgement seat. Keep the little girl on a short rein. Be a Bartholo! Beware of the Augustes and Hippolytes and Nestors and Victors and all the other
ors
, including gold ore!… Bless you, once the creature is properly dressed and fed, if it raises its head you'll be led a dance just like one of the Russian dances.… I'll look after your settling in. The Duke does things in proper style; he is going to lend you, that is to say give you, ten thousand francs, and he is depositing eight thousand of them with his lawyer, who will be told to hand you out six hundred francs every three months, for I don't trust you… Now, don't you think I'm a nice girl?'

‘Adorable!'

Ten days after deserting his family, while they, in tears, were gathered round Adeline's bed, where she lay apparently dying, and while her faint whisper asked ‘Where is he?,' Hulot, now Thoul of the rue Saint-Maur, was established with Olympe at the head of an embroidery business, under the odd style of
Thoul and Bijou
.

From the misfortunes implacably pursuing his family, Victorin Hulot received the hammering that makes a man or breaks him. It perfected Victorin. In the great storms of life we act like
ships' captains at sea, and lighten ship by throwing the heavy cargo overboard. The lawyer abandoned his inner arrogance, his air of complacency, his pride in his eloquence, and his political pretensions. He grew to be Adeline's masculine counterpart. He resolved to make the best of his Célestine, although she was certainly not the wife he had dreamed of, and achieved a balanced view of life, realizing that we are obliged by the universal law to be content with a more or less imperfect approximation to the ideal. He solemnly vowed, in his profound sense of shock at his father's behaviour, to do all his duty. His resolution was confirmed as he sat at his mother's bedside on the day that she passed the crisis of her illness. That stroke of good fortune did not come singly. Claude Vignon, who called to inquire after Madame Hulot's health, every day, on behalf of Prince de Wissembourg, asked the Deputy, now re-elected, to go with him to see the Minister.

‘His Excellency,' he told him, ‘wants to confer with you about your family affairs.'

The Minister had known Victorin Hulot for a long time, and received him with an affability characteristic of him and auguring well.

‘My boy,' said the old warrior, ‘I solemnly promised your uncle, the Marshal, in this very room, that I would look after your mother. That saintly woman, they tell me, is on the way to recovery, so now is the time to bind up your wounds. I have two hundred thousand francs for you here, and I am going to give you the money now.'

The lawyer made a gesture worthy of his uncle, the Marshal.

‘Don't worry,' said the Prince, smiling. ‘It's a
fidei-commissum
– money left in trust. My days are numbered. I shall not be here for ever, so take the money and take over my duty with regard to your family. You may use the money to pay off the mortgage on your house. This two hundred thousand francs belongs to your mother and your sister. But Madame Hulot's devotion to her husband leads me to fear that if I gave this money to her I should see it wasted; and the intention of those who return it is that it should be used for the maintenance of Madame Hulot and her daughter, Countess Steinbock. You are a man of practical good sense, the worthy
son of your noble mother and the true nephew of my friend the Marshal. You are appreciated at your true worth here, my dear boy, as you are elsewhere. So be your family's guardian angel, accept your uncle's legacy and mine.'

‘Your Excellency,' said Hulot, grasping the Minister's hand, ‘men like you know that words of thanks mean nothing; gratitude has to be proved.'

‘Prove yours then!' said the old soldier.

‘Show me how I may.'

‘Accept my proposals,' said the Minister. ‘We want to appoint you as legal adviser to the War Office, which on the engineering side has more litigation than it can deal with, arising from the plans for the Paris fortifications; and also as consultant lawyer to the Prefecture of Police, and adviser to the Civil List Board. These three appointments would give you a salary of eighteen thousand francs, and your political independence would not be in the least affected. You must vote in the Chamber in accordance with your political views and your conscience.… Feel perfectly free to act as you please! We should be in a very bad way, you know, if we had no Opposition!

‘And now, there is one other matter. I had a letter from your uncle written a few hours before he died, indicating what I should do in order to help your mother, whom the Marshal was very fond of. A number of ladies, presidents of charitable societies, Mesdames Popinot, de Rastignac, de Navarreins, d'Espard, de Grandlieu, de Carigliano, de Lenoncourt, and de La Bâtie, have created the post of Lady Welfare Visitor for your dear mother. The ladies cannot do everything in the administration of their charities themselves; they need a lady they can trust, able to act as a whole-time representative for them, to go and visit unfortunate people, see that their charity is not being misused, make sure that help has been properly given to those who have asked for it, seek out needy people who are too proud to apply for assistance, and so on. Your mother will act as a good angel; she will be answerable only to the clergy and the charitable ladies; her salary will be six thousand francs a year, and her cab expenses will be paid. You see, young man, how an honourable and upright man
can still protect his family beyond the grave. In properly constituted societies, such names as your uncle's are, and rightly so, a shield against misfortune. Follow in your uncle's footsteps then, continue steadfastly in his way, for you have made a good beginning, I know.'

‘So much kindness and consideration, Sir, do not surprise me in my uncle's friend,' said Victorin. ‘I will do my best to live up to what you expect of me.'

‘Go and be a consolation to your family, then!… Ah, by the way,' the Prince added, as he shook hands with Victorin, ‘I hear that your father has disappeared?'

‘Yes, I'm afraid so.'

‘That's all the better. The unhappy man has shown some tact and enterprise – they are not qualities that he ever lacked.'

‘He has some creditors to avoid.'

‘Ah, I see,' said the Marshal. ‘You shall be given six months' salary, from the three new appointments. That advance will no doubt help you to withdraw the notes-of-hand from the moneylender's hands. I'll see Nucingen, in any case, and perhaps I may be able to free your father's pension without its costing you or my Ministry anything. The Peer of France has not killed the banker in Nucingen, however; he's insatiable, and he'll want some concession or other…'

When he returned to the rue Plumet, then, Victorin was in a position to carry out his plan of taking his mother and sister to live with him.

The distinguished young barrister possessed as his sole fortune one of the loveliest properties in Paris, a house bought in 1834 in anticipation of his marriage, situated on the boulevard between the rue de la Paix and the rue Louis-le-Grand. A speculator had built two houses, one facing on the street and the other on the boulevard, and between them, with a garden and a court on either side, there stood a pavilion, the noble wing of an old house, all that remained of the magnificent Hotel de Verneuil. Young Hulot, relying on Mademoiselle Crevel's dowry, had bought this superb property for a million francs when it was put up for auction, paying five hundred thousand francs down. He lived on the ground floor of the old building, and planned to pay off the money he still
owed with the rents of the others; but if speculation in house property is a safe investment in Paris, it may show a very slow or erratic return, depending on unforeseeable circumstances. As strollers about Paris may have observed, the boulevard between the rue Louis-le-Grand and the rue de la Paix was for a long time left undeveloped. In fact it was cleared up and beautified with such tedious slowness that it was not until 1840 that trade came to it, with its splendid shop-fronts, the moneychangers' gold, the fairy display of fashion's creations, and the extravagant ornate luxury of its expensive shops.