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

ought to last a year. You don’t know how to look after your own interests. I know that her glance would turn the head of a stone saint; but you should reason with yourself, hang it! Why, there are not ten girls in Paris who live in such style! And do you think she loves you any the more for it? Not a bit. When she has ruined you, she’ll leave you in the lurch.”

Noel accepted the eloquence of his prudent banker like a man without an umbrella accepts a shower.

“What is the meaning of all this!” he asked.

“Simply that I will not renew your bills. You understand? Just now, if you try very hard, you will be able to hand me the twenty-two thousand francs in question. You need not frown: you will find means to do so to prevent my seizing your goods⁠—not here, for that would be absurd, but at your little woman’s apartments. She would not be at all pleased, and would not hesitate to tell you so.”

“But everything there belongs to her; and you have no right⁠—”

“What of that? She will oppose the seizure, no doubt, and I expect her to do so; but she will make you find the requisite sum. Believe me, you had best parry the blow. I insist on being paid now. I won’t give you any further delay; because, in three months’ time, you will have used your last resources. It is no use saying ‘No,’ like that. You are in one of those conditions that must be continued at any price. You would burn the wood from your dying mother’s bed to warm this creature’s feet. Where did you obtain the ten thousand francs that you left with her the other evening? Who knows what you will next attempt to procure money? The idea of keeping her fifteen days, three days, a single day more, may lead you far. Open your eyes. I know the game well. If you do not leave Juliette, you are lost. Listen to a little good advice, gratis. You must give her up, sooner or later, mustn’t you? Do it today, then.”

As you see, our worthy Clergeot never minces the truth to his customers, when they do not keep their engagements. If they are displeased, so much the worse for them! His conscience is at rest. He would never join in any foolish business.

Noel could bear it no longer: and his anger burst forth.

“Enough,” he cried decidedly. “Do as you please, M. Clergeot, but have done with your advice. I prefer the lawyer’s plain prose. If I have committed follies, I can repair them, and in a way that would surprise you. Yes, M. Clergeot, I can procure twenty-two thousand francs; I could have a hundred thousand tomorrow morning, if I saw fit. They would only cost me the trouble of asking for them. But that I will not do. My extravagance, with all due deference to you, will remain a secret as heretofore. I do not choose that my present embarrassed circumstances should be even suspected. I will not relinquish, for your sake, that at which I have been aiming, the very day it is within my grasp.”

“He resists,” thought the usurer; “he is less deeply involved than I imagined.”

“So,” continued the barrister, “put your bills in the hands of your lawyer. Let him sue me. In eight days, I shall be summoned to appear before the Tribunal de Commerce, and I shall ask for the twenty-five days’ delay, which the judges always grant to an embarrassed debtor. Twenty-five and eight, all the world over, make just thirty-three days. That is precisely the respite I need. You have two alternatives: either accept from me at once a new bill for twenty-four thousand francs payable in six weeks, or else, as I have an appointment, go off to your lawyer.”

“And in six weeks,” replied the usurer, “you will be in precisely the same condition you are today. And forty-five days more of Juliette will cost⁠—”

“M. Clergeot,” interrupted Noel, “long before that time, my position will be completely changed. But I have finished,” he added rising; “and my time is valuable.”

“One moment, you impatient fellow!” exclaimed the good-natured banker, “you said twenty-four thousand francs at forty-five days?”

“Yes. That is about seventy-five percent⁠—pretty fair interest.”

“I never cavil about interest,” said M. Clergeot; “only⁠—” He looked slyly at Noel scratching his chin violently, a movement which in him indicated how insensibly his brain was at work. “Only,” he continued, “I should very much like to know what you are counting upon.”

“That I will not tell you. You will know it ere long, in common with all the world.”

“I have it!” cried M. Clergeot, “I have it! You are going to marry! You have found an heiress, of course, your little Juliette told me something of the sort this morning. Ah! you are going to marry! Is she pretty? But no matter. She has a full purse, eh? You wouldn’t take her without that. So you are going to start a home of your own?”

“I did not say so.”

“That’s right. Be discreet. But I can take a hint. One word more. Beware of the storm; your little woman has a suspicion of the truth. You are right; it wouldn’t do to be seeking money now. The slightest inquiry would be sufficient to enlighten your father-in-law as to your financial position, and you would lose the damsel. Marry and settle down. But get rid of Juliette, or I won’t give five francs for the fortune. So it is settled: prepare a new bill for twenty-four thousand francs, and I will call for it when I bring you the old ones on Monday.”

“You haven’t them with you, then?”

“No. And to be frank, I confess that, knowing well I should get nothing from you, I left them with others at my lawyer’s. However, you may rest easy: you have my word.”

M. Clergeot made a pretence of retiring; but just as he was going out, he returned quickly.

“I