The Lerouge Case, Émile Gaboriau [old books to read TXT] 📗

is possibly true. He is whimsical more than covetous, and fearfully bold. Free with his money when one pleases him, he would not lend five francs, even with a mortgage on the Château of Ferrieres as guarantee, to whosoever does not meet with his approval. However, he often risks his all on the most unlucky cards.

His preferred customers consist of women of doubtful morality, actresses, artists, and those venturesome fellows who enter upon professions which depend solely upon those who practice them, such as lawyers and doctors.

He lends to women upon their present beauty, to men upon their future talent. Slight pledges! His discernment, it should be said, however, enjoys a great reputation. It is rarely at fault. A pretty girl furnished by Clergeot is sure to go far. For an artist to be in Clergeot’s debt was a recommendation preferable to the warmest criticism.

Madame Juliette had procured this useful and honourable acquaintance for her lover.

Noel, who well knew how sensitive this worthy man was to kind attentions, and how pleased by politeness, began by offering him a seat, and asking after his health. Clergeot went into details. His teeth were still good; but his sight was beginning to fail. His legs were no longer so steady, and his hearing was not all that could be desired. The chapter of complaints ended⁠—“You know,” said he, “why I have called. Your bills fall due today; and I am devilishly in need of money. I have one of ten, one of seven, and a third of five thousand francs, total, twenty-two thousand francs.”

“Come, M. Clergeot,” replied Noel, “do not let us have any joking.”

“Excuse me,” said the usurer; “I am not joking at all.”

“I rather think you are though. Why, it’s just eight days ago today that I wrote to tell you that I was not prepared to meet the bills, and asked for a renewal!”

“I recollect very well receiving your letter.”

“What do you say to it, then?”

“By my not answering the note, I supposed that you would understand that I could not comply with your request; I hoped that you would exert yourself to find the amount for me.”

Noel allowed a gesture of impatience to escape him.

“I have not done so,” he said; “so take your own course. I haven’t a sou.”

“The devil. Do you know that I have renewed these bills four times already?”

“I know that the interest has been fully and promptly paid, and at a rate which cannot make you regret the investment.”

Clergeot never likes talking about the interest he received. He pretends that it is humiliating.

“I do not complain; I only say that you take things too easily with me. If I had put your signature in circulation all would have been paid by now.”

“Not at all.”

“Yes, you would have found means to escape being sued. But you say to yourself: ‘Old Clergeot is a good fellow.’ And that is true. But I am so only when it can do me no harm. Now, today, I am absolutely in great need of my money. Ab⁠—so⁠—lute⁠—ly,” he added, emphasising each syllable.

The old fellow’s decided tone seemed to disturb the barrister.

“Must I repeat it?” he said; “I am completely drained, com⁠—plete⁠—ly!”

“Indeed?” said the usurer; “well, I am sorry for you; but I shall have to sue you.”

“And what good will that do? Let us play above board, M. Clergeot. Do you care to increase the lawyers’ fees? You don’t do you? Even though, you may put me to great expense, will that procure you even a centime? You will obtain judgment against me. Well, what then? Do you think of putting in an execution? This is not my home; the lease is in Madame Gerdy’s name.”

“I know all that. Besides, the sale of everything here would not cover the amount.”

“Then you intend to put me in prison, at Clichy! Bad speculation, I warn you, my practice will be lost, and, you know, no practice, no money.”

“Good!” cried the worthy moneylender. “Now you are talking nonsense! You call that being frank. Pshaw! If you supposed me capable of half the cruel things you have said, my money would be there in your drawer, ready for me.”

“A mistake! I should not know where to get it, unless by asking Madame Gerdy, a thing I would never do.”

A sarcastic and most irritating little laugh, peculiar to old Clergeot, interrupted Noel.

“It would be no good doing that,” said the usurer; “mamma’s purse has long been empty; and if the dear creature should die now⁠—they tell me she is very ill⁠—I would not give two hundred napoleons for the inheritance.”

The barrister turned red with passion, his eyes glittered; but he dissembled, and protested with some spirit.

“We know what we know,” continued Clergeot quietly. “Before a man risks his money, he takes care to make some inquiries. Mamma’s remaining bonds were sold last October. Ah! the Rue de Provence is an expensive place! I have made an estimate, which is at home. Juliette is a charming woman, to be sure; she has not her equal, I am convinced; but she is expensive, devilish expensive.”

Noel was enraged at hearing his Juliette thus spoke of by this honourable personage. But what reply could he make? Besides, none of us are perfect; and M. Clergeot possessed the fault of not properly appreciating women, which doubtless arises from the business transactions he has had with them. He is charming in his business with the fair sex, complimenting and flattering them; but the coarsest insults would be less revolting than his disgusting familiarity.

“You have gone too fast,” he continued, without deigning to notice his client’s ill looks; “and I have told you so before. But, you would not listen; you are mad about the girl. You can never refuse her anything. Fool! When a pretty girl wants anything, you should let her long for it for a while; she has then something to occupy her mind and keep her from thinking of a quantity of other follies. Four good strong wishes, well managed,