บทที่ บทที่ 7 · 第7章

At this moment the town of Saumur was more excited about the dinner

given by Grandet to the Cruchots than it had been the night before at

the sale of his vintage, though that constituted a crime of high-treason

against the whole wine-growing community. If the politic old miser had

given his dinner from the same idea that cost the dog of Alcibiades his

tail, he might perhaps have been called a great man; but the fact is,

considering himself superior to a community which he could trick on all

occasions, he paid very little heed to what Saumur might say.

The des Grassins soon learned the facts of the failure and the violent

death of Guillaume Grandet, and they determined to go to their client’s

house that very evening to commiserate his misfortune and show him some

marks of friendship, with a view of ascertaining the motives which had

led him to invite the Cruchots to dinner. At precisely five o’clock

Monsieur C. de Bonfons and his uncle the notary arrived in their

Sunday clothes. The party sat down to table and began to dine with good

appetites. Grandet was grave, Charles silent, Eugenie dumb, and Madame

Grandet did not say more than usual; so that the dinner was, very

properly, a repast of condolence. When they rose from table Charles said

to his aunt and uncle,--

“Will you permit me to retire? I am obliged to undertake a long and

painful correspondence.”

“Certainly, nephew.”

As soon as the goodman was certain that Charles could hear nothing and

was probably deep in his letter-writing, he said, with a dissimulating

glance at his wife,--

“Madame Grandet, what we have to talk about will be Latin to you; it

is half-past seven; you can go and attend to your household accounts.

Good-night, my daughter.”

He kissed Eugenie, and the two women departed. A scene now took place in

which Pere Grandet brought to bear, more than at any other moment of his

life, the shrewd dexterity he had acquired in his intercourse with

men, and which had won him from those whose flesh he sometimes bit

too sharply the nickname of “the old dog.” If the mayor of Saumur had

carried his ambition higher still, if fortunate circumstances, drawing

him towards the higher social spheres, had sent him into congresses

where the affairs of nations were discussed, and had he there employed

the genius with which his personal interests had endowed him, he would

undoubtedly have proved nobly useful to his native land. Yet it is

perhaps equally certain that outside of Saumur the goodman would have

cut a very sorry figure. Possibly there are minds like certain animals

which cease to breed when transplanted from the climates in which they

are born.

“M-m-mon-sieur le p-p-president, you said t-t-that b-b-bankruptcy--”

The stutter which for years the old miser had assumed when it suited

him, and which, together with the deafness of which he sometimes

complained in rainy weather, was thought in Saumur to be a natural

defect, became at this crisis so wearisome to the two Cruchots that

while they listened they unconsciously made faces and moved their lips,

as if pronouncing the words over which he was hesitating and stuttering

at will. Here it may be well to give the history of this impediment

of the speech and hearing of Monsieur Grandet. No one in Anjou heard

better, or could pronounce more crisply the French language (with an

Angevin accent) than the wily old cooper. Some years earlier, in spite

of his shrewdness, he had been taken in by an Israelite, who in the

course of the discussion held his hand behind his ear to catch sounds,

and mangled his meaning so thoroughly in trying to utter his words that

Grandet fell a victim to his humanity and was compelled to prompt the

wily Jew with the words and ideas he seemed to seek, to complete himself

the arguments of the said Jew, to say what that cursed Jew ought to have

said for himself; in short, to be the Jew instead of being Grandet. When

the cooper came out of this curious encounter he had concluded the only

bargain of which in the course of a long commercial life he ever had

occasion to complain. But if he lost at the time pecuniarily, he gained

morally a valuable lesson; later, he gathered its fruits. Indeed, the

goodman ended by blessing that Jew for having taught him the art of

irritating his commercial antagonist and leading him to forget his own

thoughts in his impatience to suggest those over which his tormentor

was stuttering. No affair had ever needed the assistance of deafness,

impediments of speech, and all the incomprehensible circumlocutions with

which Grandet enveloped his ideas, as much as the affair now in hand. In

the first place, he did not mean to shoulder the responsibility of

his own scheme; in the next, he was determined to remain master of the

conversation and to leave his real intentions in doubt.

“M-m-monsieur de B-B-Bonfons,”--for the second time in three years

Grandet called the Cruchot nephew Monsieur de Bonfons; the

president felt he might consider himself the artful old fellow’s

son-in-law,--“you-ou said th-th-that b-b-bankruptcy c-c-could, in some

c-c-cases, b-b-be p-p-prevented b-b-by--”

“By the courts of commerce themselves. It is done constantly,” said

Monsieur C. de Bonfons, bestriding Grandet’s meaning, or thinking he

guessed it, and kindly wishing to help him out with it. “Listen.”

“Y-yes,” said Grandet humbly, with the mischievous expression of a boy

who is inwardly laughing at his teacher while he pays him the greatest

attention.

“When a man so respected and important as, for example, your late

brother--”

“M-my b-b-brother, yes.”

“--is threatened with insolvency--”

“They c-c-call it in-ins-s-solvency?”

“Yes; when his failure is imminent, the court of commerce, to which he

is amenable (please follow me attentively), has the power, by a decree,

to appoint a receiver. Liquidation, you understand, is not the same

as failure. When a man fails, he is dishonored; but when he merely

liquidates, he remains an honest man.”

“T-t-that’s very d-d-different, if it d-d-doesn’t c-c-cost m-m-more,”

said Grandet.

“But a liquidation can be managed without having recourse to the courts

at all. For,” said the president, sniffing a pinch of snuff, “don’t you

know how failures are declared?”

“N-n-no, I n-n-never t-t-thought,” answered Grandet.

“In the first place,” resumed the magistrate, “by filing the schedule

in the record office of the court, which the merchant may do himself, or

his representative for him with a power of attorney duly certified. In

the second place, the failure may be declared under compulsion from the

creditors. Now if the merchant does not file his schedule, and if no

creditor appears before the courts to obtain a decree of insolvency

against the merchant, what happens?”

“W-w-what h-h-happens?”

“Why, the family of the deceased, his representatives, his heirs, or

the merchant himself, if he is not dead, or his friends if he is only

hiding, liquidate his business. Perhaps you would like to liquidate your

brother’s affairs?”

“Ah! Grandet,” said the notary, “that would be the right thing to do.

There is honor down here in the provinces. If you save your name--for it

is your name--you will be a man--”

“A noble man!” cried the president, interrupting his uncle.

“Certainly,” answered the old man, “my b-b-brother’s name was

G-G-Grandet, like m-m-mine. Th-that’s c-c-certain; I d-d-don’t d-d-deny

it. And th-th-this l-l-liquidation might be, in m-m-many ways, v-v-very

advan-t-t-tageous t-t-to the interests of m-m-my n-n-nephew, whom

I l-l-love. But I must consider. I don’t k-k-know the t-t-tricks of

P-P-Paris. I b-b-belong to Sau-m-mur, d-d-don’t you see? M-m-my vines,

my d-d-drains--in short, I’ve my own b-b-business. I never g-g-give

n-n-notes. What are n-n-notes? I t-t-take a good m-m-many, but I

have never s-s-signed one. I d-d-don’t understand such things. I have

h-h-heard say that n-n-notes c-c-can be b-b-bought up.”

“Of course,” said the president. “Notes can be bought in the market,

less so much per cent. Don’t you understand?”

Grandet made an ear-trumpet of his hand, and the president repeated his

words.

“Well, then,” replied the man, “there’s s-s-something to be g-g-got out

of it? I k-know n-nothing at my age about such th-th-things. I l-l-live

here and l-l-look after the v-v-vines. The vines g-g-grow, and it’s the

w-w-wine that p-p-pays. L-l-look after the v-v-vintage, t-t-that’s my

r-r-rule. My c-c-chief interests are at Froidfond. I c-c-can’t l-l-leave

my h-h-house to m-m-muddle myself with a d-d-devilish b-b-business

I kn-know n-n-nothing about. You say I ought to l-l-liquidate my

b-b-brother’s af-f-fairs, to p-p-prevent the f-f-failure. I c-c-can’t be

in two p-p-places at once, unless I were a little b-b-bird, and--”

“I understand,” cried the notary. “Well, my old friend, you have

friends, old friends, capable of devoting themselves to your interests.”

“All right!” thought Grandet, “make haste and come to the point!”

“Suppose one of them went to Paris and saw your brother Guillaume’s

chief creditor and said to him--”

“One m-m-moment,” interrupted the goodman, “said wh-wh-what? Something

l-l-like this. Monsieur Gr-Grandet of Saumur this, Monsieur Grandet of

Saumur that. He l-loves his b-b-brother, he loves his n-nephew. Grandet

is a g-g-good uncle; he m-m-means well. He has sold his v-v-vintage.

D-d-don’t declare a f-f-failure; c-c-call a meeting; l-l-liquidate; and

then Gr-Gr-Grandet will see what he c-c-can do. B-b-better liquidate

than l-let the l-l-law st-st-stick its n-n-nose in. Hein? isn’t it so?”

“Exactly so,” said the president.

“B-because, don’t you see, Monsieur de B-Bonfons, a man must l-l-look

b-b-before he l-leaps. If you c-c-can’t, you c-c-can’t. M-m-must know

all about the m-m-matter, all the resources and the debts, if you

d-d-don’t want to be r-r-ruined. Hein? isn’t it so?”

“Certainly,” said the president. “I’m of opinion that in a few months

the debts might be bought up for a certain sum, and then paid in full

by an agreement. Ha! ha! you can coax a dog a long way if you show him a

bit of lard. If there has been no declaration of failure, and you hold

a lien on the debts, you come out of the business as white as the driven

snow.”

“Sn-n-now,” said Grandet, putting his hand to his ear, “wh-wh-what about

s-now?”

“But,” cried the president, “do pray attend to what I am saying.”

“I am at-t-tending.”

“A note is merchandise,--an article of barter which rises and falls in

prices. That is a deduction from Jeremy Bentham’s theory about usury.

That writer has proved that the prejudice which condemned usurers to

reprobation was mere folly.”

“Whew!” ejaculated the goodman.

“Allowing that money, according to Bentham, is an article of

merchandise, and that whatever represents money is equally merchandise,”

resumed the president; “allowing also that it is notorious that the

commercial note, bearing this or that signature, is liable to the

fluctuation of all commercial values, rises or falls in the market,

is dear at one moment, and is worth nothing at another, the courts

decide--ah! how stupid I am, I beg your pardon--I am inclined to think

you could buy up your brother’s debts for twenty-five per cent.”

“D-d-did you c-c-call him Je-Je-Jeremy B-Ben?”

“Bentham, an Englishman.’

“That’s a Jeremy who might save us a lot of lamentations in business,”

said the notary, laughing.

“Those Englishmen s-sometimes t-t-talk sense,” said Grandet. “So,

ac-c-cording to Ben-Bentham, if my b-b-brother’s n-notes are worth

n-n-nothing; if Je-Je--I’m c-c-correct, am I not? That seems c-c-clear

to my m-m-mind--the c-c-creditors would be--No, would not be; I

understand.”

“Let me explain it all,” said the president. “Legally, if you acquire a

title to all the debts of the Maison Grandet, your brother or his heirs

will owe nothing to any one. Very good.”

“Very g-good,” repeated Grandet.

“In equity, if your brother’s notes are negotiated--negotiated, do you

clearly understand the term?--negotiated in the market at a reduction

of so much per cent in value, and if one of your friends happening to be

present should buy them in, the creditors having sold them of their

own free-will without constraint, the estate of the late Grandet is

honorably released.”

“That’s t-true; b-b-business is b-business,” said the cooper. “B-b-but,

st-still, you know, it is d-d-difficult. I h-have n-no m-m-money and

n-no t-t-time.”

“Yes, but you need not undertake it. I am quite ready to go to Paris

(you may pay my expenses, they will only be a trifle). I will see

the creditors and talk with them and get an extension of time, and

everything can be arranged if you will add something to the assets so as

to buy up all title to the debts.”

“We-we’ll see about th-that. I c-c-can’t and I w-w-won’t bind myself

without--He who c-c-can’t, can’t; don’t you see?”

“That’s very true.”

“I’m all p-p-put ab-b-bout by what you’ve t-t-told me. This is the

f-first t-t-time in my life I have b-been obliged to th-th-think--”

“Yes, you are not a lawyer.”

“I’m only a p-p-poor wine-g-grower, and know n-nothing about wh-what you

have just t-told me; I m-m-must th-think about it.”

“Very good,” said the president, preparing to resume his argument.

“Nephew!” said the notary, interrupting him in a warning tone.

“Well, what, uncle?” answered the president.

“Let Monsieur Grandet explain his own intentions. The matter in question

is of the first importance. Our good friend ought to define his meaning

clearly, and--”

A loud knock, which announced the arrival of the des Grassins family,

succeeded by their entrance and salutations, hindered Cruchot from

concluding his sentence. The notary was glad of the interruption, for

Grandet was beginning to look suspiciously at him, and the wen gave

signs of a brewing storm. In the first place, the notary did not think

it becoming in a president of the Civil courts to go to Paris and

manipulate creditors and lend himself to an underhand job which clashed

with the laws of strict integrity; moreover, never having known old

Grandet to express the slightest desire to pay anything, no matter what,

he instinctively feared to see his nephew taking part in the affair.

He therefore profited by the entrance of the des Grassins to take the

nephew by the arm and lead him into the embrasure of the window,--

“You have said enough, nephew; you’ve shown enough devotion. Your desire

to win the girl blinds you. The devil! you mustn’t go at it tooth and

nail. Let me sail the ship now; you can haul on the braces. Do you think

it right to compromise your dignity as a magistrate in such a--”

He stopped, for he heard Monsieur des Grassins saying to the old cooper

as they shook hands,--

“Grandet, we have heard of the frightful misfortunes which have just

befallen your family,--the failure of the house of Guillaume Grandet and

the death of your brother. We have come to express our grief at these

sad events.”

“There is but one sad event,” said the notary, interrupting the

banker,--“the death of Monsieur Grandet, junior; and he would never have

killed himself had he thought in time of applying to his brother for

help. Our old friend, who is honorable to his finger-nails, intends

to liquidate the debts of the Maison Grandet of Paris. To save him the

worry of legal proceedings, my nephew, the president, has just offered

to go to Paris and negotiate with the creditors for a satisfactory

settlement.”

These words, corroborated by Grandet’s attitude as he stood silently

nursing his chin, astonished the three des Grassins, who had been

leisurely discussing the old man’s avarice as they came along, very

nearly accusing him of fratricide.

“Ah! I was sure of it,” cried the banker, looking at his wife. “What did

I tell you just now, Madame des Grassins? Grandet is honorable to the

backbone, and would never allow his name to remain under the slightest

cloud! Money without honor is a disease. There is honor in the

provinces! Right, very right, Grandet. I’m an old soldier, and I can’t

disguise my thoughts; I speak roughly. Thunder! it is sublime!”

“Th-then s-s-sublime th-things c-c-cost d-dear,” answered the goodman,

as the banker warmly wrung his hand.

“But this, my dear Grandet,--if the president will excuse me,--is a

purely commercial matter, and needs a consummate business man. Your

agent must be some one fully acquainted with the markets,--with

disbursements, rebates, interest calculations, and so forth. I am going

to Paris on business of my own, and I can take charge of--”

“We’ll see about t-t-trying to m-m-manage it b-b-between us, under the

p-p-peculiar c-c-circumstances, b-b-but without b-b-binding m-m-myself

to anything th-that I c-c-could not do,” said Grandet, stuttering;

“because, you see, monsieur le president naturally expects me to pay the

expenses of his journey.”

The goodman did not stammer over the last words.

“Eh!” cried Madame des Grassins, “why it is a pleasure to go to Paris. I

would willingly pay to go myself.”

She made a sign to her husband, as if to encourage him in cutting

the enemy out of the commission, _coute que coute_; then she glanced

ironically at the two Cruchots, who looked chap-fallen. Grandet seized

the banker by a button and drew him into a corner of the room.

“I have a great deal more confidence in you than in the president,” he

said; “besides, I’ve other fish to fry,” he added, wriggling his wen. “I

want to buy a few thousand francs in the Funds while they are at eighty.

They fall, I’m told, at the end of each month. You know all about these

things, don’t you?”

“Bless me! then, am I to invest enough to give you a few thousand francs

a year?”

“That’s not much to begin with. Hush! I don’t want any one to know I am

going to play that game. You can make the investment by the end of

the month. Say nothing to the Cruchots; that’ll annoy them. If you are

really going to Paris, we will see if there is anything to be done for

my poor nephew.”

“Well, it’s all settled. I’ll start to-morrow by the mail-post,” said

des Grassins aloud, “and I will come and take your last directions

at--what hour will suit you?”

“Five o’clock, just before dinner,” said Grandet, rubbing his hands.

The two parties stayed on for a short time. Des Grassins said, after a

pause, striking Grandet on the shoulder,--

“It is a good thing to have a relation like him.”

“Yes, yes; without making a show,” said Grandet, “I am a g-good

relation. I loved my brother, and I will prove it, unless it

c-c-costs--”

“We must leave you, Grandet,” said the banker, interrupting him

fortunately before he got to the end of his sentence. “If I hurry my

departure, I must attend to some matters at once.”

“Very good, very good! I myself--in c-consequence of what I t-told

you--I must retire to my own room and ‘d-d-deliberate,’ as President

Cruchot says.”

“Plague take him! I am no longer Monsieur de Bonfons,” thought the

magistrate ruefully, his face assuming the expression of a judge bored

by an argument.

The heads of the two factions walked off together. Neither gave any

further thought to the treachery Grandet had been guilty of in the

morning against the whole wine-growing community; each tried to fathom

what the other was thinking about the real intentions of the wily old

man in this new affair, but in vain.

“Will you go with us to Madame Dorsonval’s?” said des Grassins to the

notary.

“We will go there later,” answered the president. “I have promised to

say good-evening to Mademoiselle de Gribeaucourt, and we will go there

first, if my uncle is willing.”

“Farewell for the present!” said Madame des Grassins.

When the Cruchots were a few steps off, Adolphe remarked to his

father,--

“Are not they fuming, hein?”

“Hold your tongue, my son!” said his mother; “they might hear you.

Besides, what you say is not in good taste,--law-school language.”

“Well, uncle,” cried the president when he saw the des Grassins

disappearing, “I began by being de Bonfons, and I have ended as nothing

but Cruchot.”

“I saw that that annoyed you; but the wind has set fair for the des

Grassins. What a fool you are, with all your cleverness! Let them sail

off on Grandet’s ‘We’ll see about it,’ and keep yourself quiet, young

man. Eugenie will none the less be your wife.”

In a few moments the news of Grandet’s magnanimous resolve was

disseminated in three houses at the same moment, and the whole town

began to talk of his fraternal devotion. Every one forgave Grandet for

the sale made in defiance of the good faith pledged to the community;

they admired his sense of honor, and began to laud a generosity of which

they had never thought him capable. It is part of the French nature to

grow enthusiastic, or angry, or fervent about some meteor of the moment.

Can it be that collective beings, nationalities, peoples, are devoid of

memory?

When Pere Grandet had shut the door he called Nanon.

“Don’t let the dog loose, and don’t go to bed; we have work to do

together. At eleven o’clock Cornoiller will be at the door with the

chariot from Froidfond. Listen for him and prevent his knocking; tell

him to come in softly. Police regulations don’t allow nocturnal racket.

Besides, the whole neighborhood need not know that I am starting on a

journey.”

So saying, Grandet returned to his private room, where Nanon heard

him moving about, rummaging, and walking to and fro, though with much

precaution, for he evidently did not wish to wake his wife and daughter,

and above all not to rouse the attention of his nephew, whom he had

begun to anathematize when he saw a thread of light under his door.

About the middle of the night Eugenie, intent on her cousin, fancied

she heard a cry like that of a dying person. It must be Charles, she

thought; he was so pale, so full of despair when she had seen him

last,--could he have killed himself? She wrapped herself quickly in a

loose garment,--a sort of pelisse with a hood,--and was about to leave

the room when a bright light coming through the chinks of her door made

her think of fire. But she recovered herself as she heard Nanon’s heavy

steps and gruff voice mingling with the snorting of several horses.

“Can my father be carrying off my cousin?” she said to herself, opening

her door with great precaution lest it should creak, and yet enough to

let her see into the corridor.

Suddenly her eye encountered that of her father; and his glance, vague

and unnoticing as it was, terrified her. The goodman and Nanon were

yoked together by a stout stick, each end of which rested on their

shoulders; a stout rope was passed over it, on which was slung a small

barrel or keg like those Pere Grandet still made in his bakehouse as an

amusement for his leisure hours.

“Holy Virgin, how heavy it is!” said the voice of Nanon.

“What a pity that it is only copper sous!” answered Grandet. “Take care

you don’t knock over the candlestick.”

The scene was lighted by a single candle placed between two rails of the

staircase.

“Cornoiller,” said Grandet to his keeper _in partibus_, “have you

brought your pistols?”

“No, monsieur. Mercy! what’s there to fear for your copper sous?”

“Oh! nothing,” said Pere Grandet.

“Besides, we shall go fast,” added the man; “your farmers have picked

out their best horses.”

“Very good. You did not tell them where I was going?”

“I didn’t know where.”

“Very good. Is the carriage strong?”

“Strong? hear to that, now! Why, it can carry three thousand weight. How

much does that old keg weigh?”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Nanon. “I ought to know! There’s pretty nigh

eighteen hundred--”

“Will you hold your tongue, Nanon! You are to tell my wife I have gone

into the country. I shall be back to dinner. Drive fast, Cornoiller; I

must get to Angers before nine o’clock.”

The carriage drove off. Nanon bolted the great door, let loose the dog,

and went off to bed with a bruised shoulder, no one in the neighborhood

suspecting either the departure of Grandet or the object of his journey.

The precautions of the old miser and his reticence were never relaxed.

No one had ever seen a penny in that house, filled as it was with gold.

Hearing in the morning, through the gossip of the port, that exchange

on gold had doubled in price in consequence of certain military

preparations undertaken at Nantes, and that speculators had arrived

at Angers to buy coin, the old wine-grower, by the simple process of

borrowing horses from his farmers, seized the chance of selling his gold

and of bringing back in the form of treasury notes the sum he intended

to put into the Funds, having swelled it considerably by the exchange.