Chapter VII: Edifying History of a Greek

Debauchery--Scheme to get money--The usurer Robineau--The bill
of exchange--A false friend--Treason--Stay at Clichy--
Initiation of a sharper--Release from prison.

Raymond kept his promise. He came to me the following day; and, after I had made my arrangements, so that no one should interrupt us, I asked him to begin his story.

"It is not my intention," said he, "to tell you the history of my life; I shall only relate to you my _début_ as a Greek, and the causes which so fatally led to it. After that, I will tell you some startling incidents, of which I have been the hero, the accomplice, or the witness.

"My real name, and the place of my birth, are of little consequence. I shall not mention them, out of respect to my family, one of the members of which holds a very high position in Paris; to you, therefore, I shall be simply M. Raymond.

"At the age of twenty, I was a tolerably good-looking fellow, and came into possession of a fortune of about ten thousand francs (400_l._) a year. Being an orphan, I had no one to control me, and led, in consequence, one of the fastest and most dissolute lives in the metropolis.

"In two years my patrimony was all spent, and I found myself ruined.

"As always happens in such cases, my friends turned their backs on me, and, as must also always happen, it was necessary for me to exist; but how? A serious question, for one who had never had any other profession than idleness and debauchery.

"The idea of suicide occurred to me, but whether it was cowardice, or submission to fate, that prevented me, I know not, but I continued to live on."

M. Raymond then related several piquant anecdotes, as he called them.

As a faithful historian I shall transcribe them for the benefit of my readers; but, as they will be easier to recount in the third person, I shall in future adopt that method.

Raymond was thus abandoned, as he had stated, by all his friends, with one exception. This faithful friend, named Brissac, was the same age as himself; he had been the companion of his follies, and would now share his misfortunes.

They had one purse in common,--that is to say, they starved together.

Brissac's active mind was never at a loss; every day brought forth some new scheme, for restoring their broken fortunes.

"I say, Raymond," exclaimed Brissac, one morning, awakening his comrade; "I've got an idea! In a few days we shall be rolling in wealth. It only requires a couple of thousand francs (£80), no more; and this is what we must do to procure that sum.

"I am acquainted with an old money-lender, named Robineau; a sly, suspicious old fellow, and such a rogue, that an escaped convict would blush before him. He shall be our banker. I don't mind confessing to you that my credit with him is quite gone, so I can ask nothing for myself; but _you_ might very well beg him to lend you the sum I named."

"No doubt I can _ask_ for it," said Raymond, "nothing is more easy; but to _obtain_ it, is another thing. You know these usurers always require security."

"I know that. Of coarse, you will offer security to this honest Robineau."

"You are joking."

"No, on the contrary, I am quite serious. Listen to me; you will offer Robineau a bill of exchange, and, at the same time, tell him to make all necessary inquiries about you in your native place. As no one there yet knows that you are ruined, there is no doubt, that, after making these inquiries, and satisfying himself of your respectability, he will give you what you require. We'll find means of paying him some day or other," added Brissac, by way of quieting his conscience.

Everything occurred as Brissac had predicted. In consideration of a bill for two thousand five hundred francs, at one month's date, renewable only with the consent of Père Robineau, he handed over to Raymond two bank-notes of a thousand francs each.

The friends had been so long deprived of anything like pleasure, that they determined to enjoy themselves to their hearts' content. They took care, however, to be economical, so that the money lasted them for a fortnight, at the end of which time, they were worse off than before.

They again applied to Robineau, but this time he was inflexible.

"When you have paid me your original debt," said he, "I shall have more confidence in you, and will lend you a larger sum."

The dreaded moment arrived; the bill was presented, and of course was not paid. Père Robineau lost no time in adopting such stringent legal measures, that, to escape a prison, Raymond saw himself reduced to live the life of a recluse, never venturing to leave the house.

To crown all their miseries, Brissac, who, by some means more or less honest, always catered for the two, found himself in the same predicament as his friend.

A bill, with his signature attached, in the hands of Robineau, was almost due; but Brissac was not a man to allow himself to be caught. He resolved to free himself by an act of treacherous perfidy.

He went to the money-lender, and frankly told him he was penniless, and that therefore it would be useless to imprison him; but that, on the other hand, his friend was quite solvent; and he offered to get him a bill signed by Raymond, for a thousand francs, in exchange for his own, promising at the same time to assist him to entrap his invisible debtor.

The offer was accepted, and Brissac immediately commenced putting his infamous project into execution.

He made Raymond believe that he had found a more accommodating money-lender, who had promised to let him have a thousand francs on his bill.

No sooner does Brissac get possession of the paper, than he hastens to Père Robineau, gives it to him in exchange for his own, and returns to Raymond to carry out his scheme.

"All goes on well," said he to Raymond; "but there is a little formality necessary. Our new banker declines to give the money to any one but yourself. You had better come with me to satisfy him."

"Yes, but," replied Raymond, "I might be recognised, and taken by the bailiffs, on my way there."

"I foresaw this difficulty, and have a carriage at the door with the blinds drawn; so we have nothing to fear."

Unconscious of evil, Raymond starts on his way. The two friends congratulate themselves on their good fortune, and are laughing in their sleeves at the trick they are playing the bailiffs, when, suddenly, at the command of a strange voice, the carriage stops, and a man, in an authoritative tone, after desiring Brissac to get out, takes his place, and orders the coachman to drive to Clichy.

"Adieu! Raymond," cried out his perfidious friend as the carriage drove off, "adieu! Keep up your courage. Adieu!"

Whilst Voisin Raymond was telling me this, I observed, that he could not prevent a nervous clinching of his fists.

"I may well be enraged at this villain's infamy," said he, with his teeth set and his eyes sparkling with rage, "for it is to my stay at Clichy that I owe my entrance into the path of crime."

The prisoner was as unhappy as he would naturally be under such circumstances, but, on reflection, he found that his condition was not so bad as he had at first thought; at all events, he would, for some time to come, be sheltered from want.

His companions in misfortune seemed all of them far from despairing. Each of them appeared to bear his troubles with patience. They treated one another to dinners and fêtes, at which ladies were present. Cards were also permitted, and imaginary stakes of large amount, were played for by these insolvents.

From his first entrance, whilst most of his companions held themselves aloof from him, Raymond was attracted towards a man named Andréas, who had shown a compassionate interest in him.

This man, although he was twenty years older, became his friend and confidant; and to him Raymond related his youthful follies, his difficulties, and his misfortunes.

Andréas, on his part, also made a confidant of Raymond; one thing led to another, and at length he told him some secrets of a compromising nature. He confessed that he had the art of mastering the caprices of fortune, or, as Cardinal Mazarin said: "_Prendre au jeu ses avantages_."

Andréas even offered to initiate Raymond into these rascally manoeuvres, and to work with him so as to gull the dupes of "Sainte Pélagie."

Raymond, who had long ago ceased to be honest, did not feel affronted at such advances being made to him; he accepted the offer of going into partnership, and worked with zeal to become an adept in his new profession.

His progress was rapid, as in prison there is little to distract the attention, and one can devote one's whole time to study.

The partners at once commenced a crusade against the purses of their fellow-prisoners, and were so successful, that, in less than a year, they had gained sufficient to recover their liberty.

One day they sent for Père Robineau to come to Clichy, saying it was for an affair of great importance.

The cunning old man knew well enough what his presence there was required for, so he took with him the necessary papers for the liberation of his debtor. Thanks to his zeal, the needful formalities were soon gone through, and Raymond found himself once more on the pavement of Paris, which has an especial charm for such of its inhabitants as have not trodden it for a twelvemonth.

Andréas also was set at liberty; the two associates met, and agreed never to part again.