Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau, Honoré de Balzac [good fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

ashes of the notes], you should marry her in a fortnight, if she loved you. Your master," he said, pointing to Cesar, "is beside himself. My nephew," resumed Pillerault, gravely, addressing the poor man,--"my nephew, away with illusions! We must do business with francs, not feelings. All this is noble, but useless. I spent two hours at the Bourse this afternoon. You have not one farthing's credit; every one is talking of your disaster, of your attempts to renew, of your appeals to various bankers, of their refusals, of your follies,--going up six flights of stairs to beg a gossiping landlord, who chatters like a magpie, to renew a note of twelve hundred francs!--your ball, given to conceal your embarrassments. They have gone so far as to say you had no property in Roguin's hands; according to your enemies, Roguin is only a blind. A friend of mine, whom I sent about to learn what is going on, confirms what I tell you. Every one foresees that Popinot will issue notes, and believes that you set him up in business expressly as a last resource. In short, every calumny or slander which a man brings upon himself when he tries to mount a rung of the social ladder, is going the rounds among business men to-day. You might hawk about those notes of Popinot in vain; you would meet humiliating refusals; no one would take them; no one could be sure how many such notes you are issuing; every one expects you to sacrifice the poor lad to your own safety. You would destroy to no purpose the credit of the house of Popinot. Do you know how much the boldest money-lender would give you for those fifty thousand francs? Twenty thousand at the most; twenty thousand, do you hear me? There are crises in business when we must stand up three days before the world without eating, as if we had indigestion, and on the fourth day we may be admitted to the larder of credit. You cannot live through those three days; and the whole matter lies there. My poor nephew, take courage! file your schedule, make an assignment. Here is Popinot, here am I; we will go to work as soon as the clerks have gone to bed, and spare you the agony of it."

"My uncle!" said Cesar, clasping his hands.

"Cesar, would you choose a shameful failure, in which there are no assets? Your share in the house of Popinot is all that saves your honor."

Cesar, awakened by this last and fatal stream of light, saw at length the frightful truth in its full extent; he fell back upon the sofa, from thence to his knees, and his mind seemed to wander; he became like a little child. His wife thought he was dying. She knelt down to raise him, but joined her voice to his when she saw him clasp his hands and lift his eyes, and recite, with resigned contrition, in the hearing of his uncle, his daughter, and Popinot, the sublime catholic prayer:--

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven; GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD; and forgive us our offences, as we forgive those who have offended against us. So be it!"

Tears came into the eyes of the stoic Pillerault; Cesarine, overcome and weeping, leaned her head upon Popinot's shoulder, as he stood pale and rigid as a statue.

"Let us go below," said the old merchant, taking the arm of the young man.

It was half-past eleven when they left Cesar to the care of his wife and daughter. Just at that moment Celestin, the head-clerk, to whom the management of the house had been left during this secret tumult, came up to the appartement and entered the salon. Hearing his step, Cesarine ran to meet him, that he might not see the prostration of his master.

"Among the letters this evening there was one from Tours, which was misdirected and therefore delayed. I thought it might be from monsieur's brother, so I did not open it."

"Father!" cried Cesarine; "a letter from my uncle at Tours!"

"Ah, I am saved!" cried Cesar. "My brother! oh, my brother!" He kissed the letter, as he broke the seal, and read it aloud to his wife and daughter in a trembling voice:--

Answer of Francois to Cesar Birotteau.
Tours, 10th.

My beloved Brother,--Your letter gave me the deepest pain. As soon
as I had read it, I went at once and offered to God the holy
sacrifice of the Mass, imploring Him by the blood which His Son,
our divine Redeemer, shed for us, to look with mercy upon your
afflictions. At the moment when I offered the prayer _Pro meo
fratre Caesare_, my eyes were filled with tears as I thought of
you,--from whom, unfortunately, I am separated in these days when
you must sorely need the support of fraternal friendship. I have
thought that the worthy and venerable Monsieur Pillerault would
doubtless replace me. My dear Cesar, never forget, in the midst of
your troubles, that this life is a scene of trial, and is passing
away; that one day we shall be rewarded for having suffered for
the holy name of God, for His holy Church, for having followed the
teachings of His Gospel and practised virtue. If it were
otherwise, this world would have no meaning. I repeat to you these
maxims, though I know how good and pious you are, because it may
happen that those who, like you, are flung into the storms of life
upon the perilous waves of human interests might be tempted to
utter blasphemies in the midst of their adversity,--carried away
as they are by anguish. Curse neither the men who injure you nor
the God who mingles, at His will, your joy with bitterness. Look
not on life, but lift your eyes to heaven; there is comfort for
the weak, there are riches for the poor, there are terrors for
the--

"But, Birotteau," said his wife, "skip all that, and see what he sends us."

"We will read it over and over hereafter," said Cesar, wiping his eyes and turning over the page,--letting fall, as he did so, a Treasury note. "I was sure of him, poor brother!" said Birotteau, picking up the note and continuing to read, in a voice broken by tears.

I went to Madame de Listomere, and without telling her the reason
of my request I asked her to lend me all she could dispose of, so
as to swell the amount of my savings. Her generosity has enabled
me to make up a thousand francs; which I send herewith, in a note
of the Receiver-General of Tours on the Treasury.

"A fine sum!" said Constance, looking at Cesarine.

By retrenching a few superfluities in my life, I can return the
four hundred francs Madame de Listomere has lent me in three
years; so do not make yourself uneasy about them, my dear Cesar. I
send you all I have in the world; hoping that this sum may help
you to a happy conclusion of your financial difficulties, which
doubtless are only momentary. I well know your delicacy, and I
wish to forestall your objections. Do not dream of paying me any
interest for this money, nor of paying it back at all in the day
of prosperity which ere long will dawn for you if God deigns to
hear the prayers I offer to Him daily. After I received your last
letter, two years ago, I thought you so rich that I felt at
liberty to spend my savings upon the poor; but now, all that I
have is yours. When you have overcome this little commercial
difficulty, keep the sum I now send for my niece Cesarine; so that
when she marries she may buy some trifle to remind her of her old
uncle, who daily lifts his hands to heaven to implore the blessing
of God upon her and all who are dear to her. And also, my dear
Cesar, recollect I am a poor priest who dwells, by the grace of
God, like the larks in the meadow, in quiet places, trying to obey
the commandment of our divine Saviour, and who consequently needs
but little money. Therefore, do not have the least scruple in the
trying circumstances in which you find yourself; and think of me
as one who loves you tenderly.

Our excellent Abbe Chapeloud, to whom I have not revealed your
situation, desires me to convey his friendly regards to every
member of your family, and his wishes for the continuance of your
prosperity. Adieu, dear and well-beloved brother; I pray that at
this painful juncture God will be pleased to preserve your health,
and also that of your wife and daughter. I wish you, one and all,
patience and courage under your afflictions.

Francois Birotteau,
Priest, Vicar of the Cathedral and Parochial Church
of Saint-Gatien de Tours.

"A thousand francs!" cried Madame Birotteau.

"Put them away," said Cesar gravely; "they are all he had. Besides, they belong to our daughter, and will enable us to live; so that we need ask nothing of our creditors."

"They will think you are abstracting large sums."

"Then I will show them the letter."

"They will say that it is a fraud."

"My God! my God!" cried Birotteau. "I once thought thus of poor, unhappy people who were doubtless as I am now."

Terribly anxious about Cesar's state, mother and daughter sat plying their needles by his side, in profound silence. At two in the morning Popinot gently opened the door of the salon and made a sign to Madame Cesar to come down. On seeing his niece Pillerault took off his spectacles.

"My child, there is hope," he said; "all is not lost. But your husband could not bear the uncertainty of the negotiations which Anselme and I are about to undertake. Don't leave your shop to-morrow, and take the addresses of all the bills; we have till four o'clock in the afternoon of the 15th. Here is my plan: Neither Ragon nor I am to be considered. Suppose that your hundred thousand francs deposited with Roguin had been remitted to the purchasers, you would not have them then any more than you have them now. The hundred and forty thousand francs for which notes were given to Claparon, and which must be paid in any state of the case, are what you have to meet. Therefore it is not Roguin's bankruptcy which as ruined you. I find, to meet your obligations, forty thousand francs which you can, sooner or later, borrow on your property in the Faubourg du Temple, and sixty thousand for your share in the house of Popinot. Thus you can make a struggle, for later you may borrow on the lands about the Madeleine. If your chief