Chapter XIII: Conclusion (4)

This phase was to the poor lawyer’s hapless passion like the late season known as the Indian summer after a sunless year. He affected to be older than he was, to have the right to befriend Dinah without doing her an injury, and kept himself at a distance as though he were young, handsome, and compromising, like a man who has happiness to conceal. He tried to keep his little attentions a profound secret, and the trifling gifts which Dinah showed to every one; he endeavored to suggest a dangerous meaning for his little services.

“He plays at passion,” said the Countess, laughing. She made fun of Monsieur de Clagny to his face, and the lawyer said, “She notices me.”

“I impress that poor man so deeply,” said she to her mother, laughing, “that if I would say Yes, I believe he would say No.”

One evening Monsieur de Clagny and his wife were taking his dear Countess home from the theatre, and she was deeply pensive. They had been to the first performance of Leon Gozlan’s first play, _La Main Droite et la Main Gauche_ (The Right Hand and the Left).

“What are you thinking about?” asked the lawyer, alarmed at his idol’s dejection.

This deep and persistent melancholy, though disguised by the Countess, was a perilous malady for which Monsieur de Clagny knew no remedy; for true love is often clumsy, especially when it is not reciprocated. True love takes its expression from the character. Now, this good man loved after the fashion of Alceste, when Madame de la Baudraye wanted to be loved after the manner of Philinte. The meaner side of love can never get on with the Misanthrope’s loyalty. Thus, Dinah had taken care never to open her heart to this man. How could she confess to him that she sometimes regretted the slough she had left?

She felt a void in this fashionable life; she had no one for whom to dress, or whom to tell of her successes and triumphs. Sometimes the memory of her wretchedness came to her, mingled with memories of consuming joys. She would hate Lousteau for not taking any pains to follow her; she would have liked to get tender or furious letters from him.

Dinah made no reply, so Monsieur de Clagny repeated the question, taking the Countess’ hand and pressing it between his own with devout respect.

“Will you have the right hand or the left?” said she, smiling.

“The left,” said he, “for I suppose you mean the truth or a fib.”

“Well, then, I saw him,” she said, speaking into the lawyer’s ear. “And as I saw him looking so sad, so out of heart, I said to myself, Has he a cigar? Has he any money?”

“If you wish for the truth, I can tell it you,” said the lawyer. “He is living as a husband with Fanny Beaupre. You have forced me to tell you this secret; I should never have told you, for you might have suspected me perhaps of an ungenerous motive.”

Madame de la Baudraye grasped his hand.

“Your husband,” said she to her chaperon, “is one of the rarest souls!--Ah! Why----”

She shrank into her corner, looking out of the window, but she did not finish her sentence, of which the lawyer could guess the end: “Why had not Lousteau a little of your husband’s generosity of heart?”

This information served, however, to cure Dinah of her melancholy; she threw herself into the whirl of fashion. She wished for success, and she achieved it; still, she did not make much way with women, and found it difficult to get introductions.

In the month of March, Madame Piedefer’s friends the priests and Monsieur de Clagny made a fine stroke by getting Madame de la Baudraye appointed receiver of subscriptions for the great charitable work founded by Madame de Carcado. Then she was commissioned to collect from the Royal Family their donations for the benefit of the sufferers from the earthquake at Guadeloupe. The Marquise d’Espard, to whom Monsieur de Canalis read the list of ladies thus appointed, one evening at the Opera, said, on hearing that of the Countess:

“I have lived a long time in the world, and I can remember nothing finer than the manoeuvres undertaken for the rehabilitation of Madame de la Baudraye.”

In the early spring, which, by some whim of our planets, smiled on Paris in the first week of March in 1843, making the Champs-Elysees green and leafy before Longchamp, Fanny Beaupre’s attache had seen Madame de la Baudraye several times without being seen by her. More than once he was stung to the heart by one of those promptings of jealousy and envy familiar to those who are born and bred provincials, when he beheld his former mistress comfortably ensconced in a handsome carriage, well dressed, with dreamy eyes, and his two little boys, one at each window. He accused himself with all the more virulence because he was waging war with the sharpest poverty of all--poverty unconfessed. Like all essentially light and frivolous natures, he cherished the singular point of honor which consists in never derogating in the eyes of one’s own little public, which makes men on the Bourse commit crimes to escape expulsion from the temple of the goddess Per-cent, and has given some criminals courage enough to perform acts of virtue.

Lousteau dined and breakfasted and smoked as if he were a rich man. Not for an inheritance would he have bought any but the dearest cigars, for himself as well as for the playwright or author with whom he went into the shop. The journalist took his walks abroad in patent leather boots; but he was constantly afraid of an execution on goods which, to use the bailiff’s slang, had already received the last sacrament. Fanny Beaupre had nothing left to pawn, and her salary was pledged to pay her debts. After exhausting every possible advance of pay from newspapers, magazines, and publishers, Etienne knew not of what ink he could churn gold. Gambling-houses, so ruthlessly suppressed, could no longer, as of old, cash I O U’s drawn over the green table by beggary in despair. In short, the journalist was reduced to such extremity that he had just borrowed a hundred francs of the poorest of his friends, Bixiou, from whom he had never yet asked for a franc. What distressed Lousteau was not the fact of owing five thousand francs, but seeing himself bereft of his elegance, and of the furniture purchased at the cost of so many privations, and added to by Madame de la Baudraye.

On April the 3rd, a yellow poster, torn down by the porter after being displayed on the wall, announced the sale of a handsome suite of furniture on the following Saturday, the day fixed for sales under legal authority. Lousteau was taking a walk, smoking cigars, and seeking ideas--for, in Paris, ideas are in the air, they smile on you from a street corner, they splash up with a spurt of mud from under the wheels of a cab! Thus loafing, he had been seeking ideas for articles, and subjects for novels for a month past, and had found nothing but friends who carried him off to dinner or to the play, and who intoxicated his woes, telling him that champagne would inspire him.

“Beware,” said the virulent Bixiou one night, the man who would at the same moment give a comrade a hundred francs and stab him to the heart with a sarcasm; “if you go to sleep drunk every night, one day you will wake up mad.”

On the day before, the Friday, the unhappy wretch, although he was accustomed to poverty, felt like a man condemned to death. Of old he would have said:

“Well, the furniture is very old! I will buy new.”

But he was incapable now of literary legerdemain. Publishers, undermined by piracy, paid badly; the newspapers made close bargains with hard-driven writers, as the Opera managers did with tenors that sang flat.

He walked on, his eye on the crowd, though seeing nothing, a cigar in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets, every feature of his face twitching, and an affected smile on his lips. Then he saw Madame de la Baudraye go by in a carriage; she was going to the Boulevard by the Rue de la Chaussee d’Antin to drive in the Bois.

“There is nothing else left!” said he to himself, and he went home to smarten himself up.

That evening, at seven, he arrived in a hackney cab at Madame de la Baudraye’s door, and begged the porter to send a note up to the Countess--a few lines, as follows:

“Would Madame la Comtesse do Monsieur Lousteau the favor of receiving him for a moment, and at once?”

This note was sealed with a seal which as lovers they had both used. Madame de la Baudraye had had the word _Parce que_ engraved on a genuine Oriental carnelian--a potent word--a woman’s word--the word that accounts for everything, even for the Creation.

The Countess had just finished dressing to go to the Opera; Friday was her night in turn for her box. At the sight of this seal she turned pale.

“I will come,” she said, tucking the note into her dress.

She was firm enough to conceal her agitation, and begged her mother to see the children put to bed. She then sent for Lousteau, and received him in a boudoir, next to the great drawing-room, with open doors. She was going to a ball after the Opera, and was wearing a beautiful dress of brocade in stripes alternately plain and flowered with pale blue. Her gloves, trimmed with tassels, showed off her beautiful white arms. She was shimmering with lace and all the dainty trifles required by fashion. Her hair, dressed _a la Sevigne_, gave her a look of elegance; a necklace of pearls lay on her bosom like bubbles on snow.

“What is the matter, monsieur?” said the Countess, putting out her foot from below her skirt to rest it on a velvet cushion. “I thought, I hoped, I was quite forgotten.”

“If I should reply _Never_, you would refuse to believe me,” said Lousteau, who remained standing, or walked about the room, chewing the flowers he plucked from the flower-stands full of plants that scented the room.

For a moment silence reigned. Madame de la Baudraye, studying Lousteau, saw that he was dressed as the most fastidious dandy might have been.

“You are the only person in the world who can help me, or hold out a plank to me--for I am drowning, and have already swallowed more than one mouthful----” said he, standing still in front of Dinah, and seeming to yield to an overpowering impulse. “Since you see me here, it is because my affairs are going to the devil.”

“That is enough,” said she; “I understand.”

There was another pause, during which Lousteau turned away, took out his handkerchief, and seemed to wipe away a tear.

“How much do you want, Etienne,” she went on in motherly tones. “We are at this moment old comrades; speak to me as you would to--to Bixiou.”

“To save my furniture from vanishing into thin air to-morrow morning at the auction mart, eighteen hundred francs! To repay my friends, as much again! Three quarters’ rent to the landlord--whom you know.--My ‘uncle’ wants five hundred francs--”

“And you!--to live on?”

“Oh! I have my pen----”

“It is heavier to lift than any one could believe who reads your articles,” said she, with a subtle smile.--“I have not such a sum as you need, but come to-morrow at eight; the bailiff will surely wait till nine, especially if you bring him away to pay him.”

She must, she felt, dismiss Lousteau, who affected to be unable to look at her; she herself felt such pity as might cut every social Gordian knot.

“Thank you,” she added, rising and offering her hand to Lousteau. “Your confidence has done me good! It is long indeed since my heart has known such joy----”

Lousteau took her hand and pressed it tenderly to his heart.

“A drop of water in the desert--and sent by the hand of an angel! God always does things handsomely!”

He spoke half in jest and half pathetically; but, believe me, as a piece of acting it was as fine as Talma’s in his famous part of _Leicester_, which was played throughout with touches of this kind. Dinah felt his heart beating through his coat; it was throbbing with satisfaction, for the journalist had had a narrow escape from the hulks of justice; but it also beat with a very natural fire at seeing Dinah rejuvenescent and restored by wealth.

Madame de la Baudraye, stealing an examining glance at Etienne, saw that his expression was in harmony with the flowers of love, which, as she thought, had blossomed again in that throbbing heart; she tried to look once into the eyes of the man she had loved so well, but the seething blood rushed through her veins and mounted to her brain. Their eyes met with the same fiery glow as had encouraged Lousteau on the Quay by the Loire to crumple Dinah’s muslin gown. The Bohemian put his arm round her waist, she yielded, and their cheeks were touching.

“Here comes my mother, hide!” cried Dinah in alarm. And she hurried forward to intercept Madame Piedefer.

“Mamma,” said she--this word was to the stern old lady a coaxing expression which never failed of its effect--“will you do me a great favor? Take the carriage and go yourself to my banker, Monsieur Mongenod, with a note I will give you, and bring back six thousand francs. Come, come--it is an act of charity; come into my room.”

And she dragged away her mother, who seemed very anxious to see who it was that her daughter had been talking with in the boudoir.

Two days afterwards, Madame Piedefer held a conference with the cure of the parish. After listening to the lamentations of the old mother, who was in despair, the priest said very gravely:

“Any moral regeneration which is not based on a strong religious sentiment, and carried out in the bosom of the Church, is built on sand.--The many means of grace enjoined by the Catholic religion, small as they are, and not understood, are so many dams necessary to restrain the violence of evil promptings. Persuade your daughter to perform all her religious duties, and we shall save her yet.”

Within ten days of this meeting the Hotel de la Baudraye was shut up. The Countess, the children, and her mother, in short, the whole household, including a tutor, had gone away to Sancerre, where Dinah intended to spend the summer. She was everything that was nice to the Count, people said.

And so the Muse of Sancerre had simply come back to family and married life; but certain evil tongues declared that she had been compelled to come back, for that the little peer’s wishes would no doubt be fulfilled--he hoped for a little girl.

Gatien and Monsieur Gravier lavished every care, every servile attention on the handsome Countess. Gatien, who during Madame de la Baudraye’s long absence had been to Paris to learn the art of _lionnerie_ or dandyism, was supposed to have a good chance of finding favor in the eyes of the disenchanted “Superior Woman.” Others bet on the tutor; Madame Piedefer urged the claims of religion.

In 1844, about the middle of June, as the Comte de la Baudraye was taking a walk on the Mall at Sancerre with the two fine little boys, he met Monsieur Milaud, the Public Prosecutor, who was at Sancerre on business, and said to him:

“These are my children, cousin.”

“Ah, ha! so these are our children!” replied the lawyer, with a mischievous twinkle.

PARIS, June 1843-August 1844.

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.

Beaupre, Fanny
A Start in Life
Modeste Mignon
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Berthier, Madame (Felicie Cardot)
Cousin Pons

Bianchon, Horace
Father Goriot
The Atheist’s Mass
Cesar Birotteau
The Commission in Lunacy
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
A Bachelor’s Establishment
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 Imaginary Mistress
The Middle Classes
Cousin Betty
The Country Parson
In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following:
Another Study of Woman
La Grande Breteche

Bixiou, Jean-Jacques
The Purse
A Bachelor’s Establishment
The Government Clerks
Modeste Mignon
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
The Firm of Nucingen
Cousin Betty
The Member for Arcis
Beatrix
A Man of Business
Gaudissart II.
The Unconscious Humorists
Cousin Pons

Camusot
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
A Bachelor’s Establishment
Cousin Pons
Cesar Birotteau
At the Sign of the Cat and Racket

Cardot (Parisian notary)
A Man of Business
Jealousies of a Country Town
Pierre Grassou
The Middle Classes
Cousin Pons

Chargeboeuf, Melchior-Rene, Vicomte de
The Member for Arcis

Falcon, Jean
The Chouans
Cousin Betty

Grosstete (younger brother of F. Grosstete)
The Country Parson

Hulot (Marshal)
The Chouans
Cousin Betty

La Baudraye, Madame Polydore Milaud de
A Prince of Bohemia
Cousin Betty

Lebas
Cousin Betty

Listomere, Baronne de
The Vicar of Tours
Cesar Birotteau

Lousteau, Etienne
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
A Bachelor’s Establishment
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
A Daughter of Eve
Beatrix
Cousin Betty
A Prince of Bohemia
A Man of Business
The Middle Classes
The Unconscious Humorists

Lupeaulx, Clement Chardin des
Eugenie Grandet
A Bachelor’s Establishment
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
The Government Clerks
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
Ursule Mirouet

Maufrigneuse, Duchesse de
The Secrets of a Princess
Modeste Mignon
Jealousies of a Country Town
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
Letters of Two Brides
Another Study of Woman
The Gondreville Mystery
The Member for Arcis

Milaud
Lost Illusions

Nathan, Raoul
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
The Secrets of a Princess
A Daughter of Eve
Letters of Two Brides
The Seamy Side of History
A Prince of Bohemia
A Man of Business
The Unconscious Humorists

Nathan, Madame Raoul
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
The Government Clerks
A Bachelor’s Establishment
Ursule Mirouet
Eugenie Grandet
The Imaginary Mistress
A Prince of Bohemia
A Daughter of Eve
The Unconscious Humorists

Navarreins, Duc de
A Bachelor’s Establishment
Colonel Chabert
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

Nucingen, Baron Frederic de
The Firm of Nucingen
Father Goriot
Pierrette
Cesar Birotteau
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
Another Study of Woman
The Secrets of a Princess
A Man of Business
Cousin Betty
The Unconscious Humorists

Ronceret, Madame Fabien du
Beatrix
Cousin Betty
The Unconscious Humorists

Rouget, Jean-Jacques
A Bachelor’s Establishment

Touches, Mademoiselle Felicite des
Beatrix
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
A Bachelor’s Establishment
Another Study of Woman
A Daughter of Eve
Honorine
Beatrix

Turquet, Marguerite
The Imaginary Mistress
A Man of Business
Cousin Betty

Vandenesse, Comtesse Felix de
A Second Home
A Daughter of Eve

End of Project Gutenberg’s Parisians in the Country, by Honore de Balzac