The Lesser Bourgeoisie, Honore de Balzac [good book recommendations .TXT] 📗

Peyrade,

interrupting himself again; "but it is incomprehensible."

 

"Go on, I tell you," said Corentin; "you'll comprehend it presently."

 

The fortune of my new master,

 

continued la Peyrade,

 

is quite a history; and I speak of it to Monsieur le directeur

because another person in whom Madame de Godollo was interested

has his marriage closely mixed up in it. That other person is

Monsieur Felix Phellion, the inventor of a star, who, in despair

at not being able to marry that demoiselle whom they wanted to

give to the Sieur la Peyrade whom Madame de Godollo made such a

fool of--

 

"Scoundrel!" said the Provencal, in a parenthesis. "Is that how he

speaks of me? He doesn't know who I am."

 

Corentin laughed heartily and exhorted his pupil to read on.

 

--who, in despair at not being able to marry that demoiselle . . .

went to England in order to embark for a journey round the world

--a lover's notion! Learning of this departure, Monsieur Picot,

his former professor, who took great interest in his pupil, went

after him to prevent that nonsense, which turned out not to be

difficult. The English are naturally very jealous of discoveries,

and when they saw Monsieur Phellion coming to embark at the heels

of their own savants they asked him for his permit from the

Admiralty; which, not having been provided, he could not produce;

so then they laughed in his face and would not let him embark at

all, fearing that he should prove more learned than they.

 

"He is a fine hand at the 'entente cordiale,' your Monsieur Henri,"

said la Peyrade, gaily.

 

"Yes," replied Corentin; "you will be struck, in the reports of nearly

all our agents, with this general and perpetual inclination to

calumniate. But what's to be done? For the trade of spies we can't

have angels."

 

Left upon the shore, Telemachus and his mentor--

 

"You see our men are lettered," commented Corentin.

 

--Telemachus and his mentor thought best to return to France, and

were about to do so when Monsieur Picot received a letter such as

none but an Englishwoman could write. It told him that the writer

had read his "Theory of Perpetual Motion," and had also heard of

his magnificent discovery of a star; that she regarded him as a

genius only second to Newton, and that if the hand of her who

addressed him, joined to eighty thousand pounds sterling--that is,

two millions--of "dot," was agreeable to him it was at his

disposal. The first thought of the good man was to make his pupil

marry her, but finding that impossible, he told her, before

accepting on his own account, that he was old and three-quarters

blind, and had never discovered a star, and did not own a penny.

The Englishwoman replied that Milton was not young either, and was

altogether blind; that Monsieur Picot seemed to her to have

nothing worse than a cataract, for she knew all about it, being

the daughter of a great oculist, and she would have him operated

upon; that as for the star, she did not care so very much about

that; it was the author of the "Theory of Perpetual Motion" who

was the man of her dreams, and to whom she again offered her hand

with eighty thousand pounds sterling (two millions) of "dot."

Monsieur Picot replied that if his sight were restored and she

would consent to live in Paris, for he hated England, he would let

himself be married. The operation was performed and was

successful, and, at the end of three weeks the newly married pair

arrived in the capital. These details I obtained from the lady's

maid, with whom I am on the warmest terms.

 

"Oh! the puppy!" said Corentin, laughing.

 

The above is therefore hearsay, but what remains to be told to

Monsieur le directeur are facts of which I can speak "de visu,"

and to which I am, consequently, in a position to certify. As

soon as Monsieur and Madame Picot had installed themselves, which

was done in the most sumptuous and comfortable manner, my master

gave me a number of invitations to dinner to carry to the

Thuillier family, the Colleville family, the Minard family, the

Abbe Gondrin, vicar of the Madeleine, and nearly all the guests

who were present at another dinner a few months earlier, when he

had an encounter with Mademoiselle Thuillier, and behaved, I must

say, in a rather singular manner. All the persons who received

these invitations were so astonished to learn that the old man

Picot had married a rich wife and was living in the Thuilliers'

old apartment that most of them came to inquire of Monsieur

Pascal, the porter, to see if they were hoaxed. The information

they obtained being honest and honorable, the whole society

arrived punctually on time; but Monsieur Picot did not appear.

The guests were received by Madame Picot, who does not speak

French and could only say, "My husband is coming soon"; after

which, not being able to make further conversation, the company

were dull and ill at ease. At last Monsieur Picot arrived, and all

present were stupefied on seeing, instead of an old blind man,

shabbily dressed, a handsome young elderly man, bearing his years

jauntily, like Monsieur Ferville of the Gymnase, who said with a

lively air:

 

"I beg your pardon, mesdames, for not being here at the moment of

your arrival; but I was at the Academy of Sciences, awaiting the

result of an election,--that of Monsieur Felix Phellion, who has

been elected unanimously less three votes."

 

This news seemed to have a great effect upon the company. So then

Monsieur Picot resumed:--

 

"I must also, mesdames, ask your pardon for the rather improper

manner in which I behaved a short time ago in the house where we

are now assembled. My excuse must be my late infirmity, the

annoyances of a family lawsuit, and of an old housekeeper who

robbed me and tormented me in a thousand ways, from whom I am

happily delivered. To-day you see me another man, rejuvenated and

rich with the blessings bestowed upon me by the amiable woman who

has given me her hand; and I should be in the happiest frame of

mind to receive you if the recollection of my young friend, whose

eminence as a man of science has just been consecrated by the

Academy, did not cast upon my mind a veil of sadness. All here

present," continued Monsieur Picot, raising his voice, which is

rather loud, "are guilty towards him: I, for ingratitude when he

gave me the glory of his discovery and the reward of his immortal

labors; that young lady, whom I see over there with tears in her

eyes, for having foolishly accused him of atheism; that other

lady, with the stern face, for having harshly replied to the

proposals of his noble father, whose white hairs she ought rather

to have honored; Monsieur Thuillier, for having sacrificed him to

ambition; Monsieur Colleville, for not performing his part of

father and choosing for his daughter the worthiest and most

honorable man; Monsieur Minard, for having tried to foist his son

into his place. There are but two persons in the room at this

moment who have done him full justice,--Madame Thuillier and

Monsieur l'Abbe Gondrin. Well, I shall now ask that man of God

whether we can help doubting the divine justice when this generous

young man, the victim of all of us, is, at the present hour, at

the mercy of waves and tempests, to which for three long years he

is consigned."

 

"Providence is very powerful, monsieur," replied the Abbe Gondrin.

"God will protect Monsieur Felix Phellion wherever he may be, and

I have the firmest hope that three years hence he will be among

his friends once more."

 

"But three years!" said Monsieur Picot. "Will it still be time?

Will Mademoiselle Colleville have waited for him?"

 

"Yes, I swear it!" cried the young girl, carried away by an

impulse she could not control.

 

Then she sat down again, quite ashamed, and burst into tears.

 

"And you, Mademoiselle Thuillier, and you, Madame Colleville, will

you permit this young lady to reserve herself for one who is

worthy of her?"

 

"Yes! Yes!" cried everybody; for Monsieur Picot's voice, which is

very full and sonorous, seemed to have tears in it and affected

everybody.

 

"Then it is time," he said, "to forgive Providence."

 

And rushing suddenly to the door, where my ear was glued to the

keyhole, he very nearly caught me.

 

"Announce," he said to me, in a very loud tone of voice, "Monsieur

Felix Phellion and his family."

 

And thereupon the door of a side room opened, and five or six

persons came out, who were led by Monsieur Picot into the salon.

 

At the sight of her _lover_, Mademoiselle Colleville was taken ill,

but the faint lasted only a minute; seeing Monsieur Felix at her

feet she threw herself into Madame Thuillier's arms, crying out:--

 

"Godmother! you always told me to hope."

 

Mademoiselle Thuillier, who, in spite of her harsh nature and want

of education, I have always myself thought a remarkable woman, now

had a fine impulse. As the company were about to go into the

dining-room,--

 

"One moment!" she said.

 

Then going up to Monsieur Phellion, senior, she said to him:

 

"Monsieur and old friend! I ask you for the hand of Monsieur Felix

Phellion for our adopted daughter, Mademoiselle Colleville."

 

"Bravo! bravo!" they call cried in chorus.

 

"My God!" said Monsieur Phellion, with tears in his eyes; "what

have I done to deserve such happiness?"

 

"You have been an honest man and a Christian without knowing it,"

replied the Abbe Gondrin.

 

Here la Peyrade flung down the manuscript.

 

"You did not finish it," said Corentin, taking back the paper.

"However, there's not much more. Monsieur Henri confesses to me that

the scene had _moved him_; he also says that, knowing the interest I

had formerly taken in the marriage, he thought he ought to inform me

of its conclusion; ending with a slightly veiled suggestion of a fee.

No, stay," resumed Corentin, "here is a detail of some importance:--"

 

The English woman seems to have made it known during dinner that,

having no heirs, her fortune, after the lives of herself and her

husband, will go to Felix. That will make him powerfully rich one

of these days.

 

La Peyrade had risen and was striding about the room with rapid steps.

 

"Well," said Corentin, "what is the matter with you?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"That is not true," said the great detective. "I think you envy the

happiness of that young man. My dear fellow, permit me to tell you

that if such a conclusion were to your taste, you should have acted as

he has done. When I sent you two thousand francs on which to study

law, I did not intend you to succeed me; I expected you to row your

galley laboriously, to have the needful courage for obscure and

painful toil; your day would infallibly have come. But you chose to

violate fortune--"

 

"Monsieur!"

 

"I mean hasten it, reap it before it ripened. You flung yourself into

journalism; then into business, questionable business; you made

acquaintance with Messieurs Dutocq and Cerizet. Frankly, I think you

fortunate to have entered the port which harbors you to-day. In any

case, you are not sufficiently simple of heart to have really valued

the joys reserved for Felix Phellion. These bourgeois--"

 

"These bourgeois," said la Peyrade, quickly,--"I know them now. They

have great absurdities, great vices even, but they have virtues, or,

at the least, estimable qualities; in them lies the vital force of our

corrupt society."

 

"_Your_ society!" said Corentin, smiling; "you speak as if you were

still in the ranks. You have another sphere, my dear fellow; and you

must learn to be more content with your lot. Governments pass,

societies perish or dwindle; but we--_we_ dominate all things; the

police is eternal." 

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

Note.--This volume ("Les Petits Bourgeois") was not published

until 1854, more than three years after Balzac's death; although

he says of it in March, 1844: "I must tell you that my work

entitled 'Les Petits Bourgeois,' owing to difficulties of

execution, requires still a month's labor, although the book is

entirely written." And again, in October, 1846, he says: "It is to

such scruples" (care in