The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac (best ereader for graphic novels TXT) 📕

imply self-praise."

 

"Father," said Marie-Theodore Phellion, the future engineer of "ponts

et chaussees," when the family were once more seated in the salon, "it

seems to me that there is nothing dishonorable in changing one's

determination about a choice which is of no real consequence to public

welfare."

 

"No consequence, my son!" cried Phellion. "Between ourselves I will

say, and Felix shares my opinion, Monsieur Thuillier is absolutely

without capacity; he knows nothing. Monsieur Horace Bianchon is an

able man; he will obtain a thousand things for our arrondissement, and

Thuillier will obtain none! Remember this, my son; to change a good

determination for a bad one from motives of self-interest is one of

those infamous actions which escape the control of men but are

punished by God. I am, or I think I am, void of all blame before my

conscience, and I owe it to you, my children, to leave my memory

unstained among you. Nothing, therefore, can make me change my

determination."

 

"Oh, my good father!" cried the little Barniol woman, flinging herself

on a cushion at Phellion's knees, "don't ride your high horse! There

are many fools and idiots in the municipal council, and France gets

along all the same. That old Thuillier will adopt the opinions of

those about him. Do reflect that Celeste will probably have five

hundred thousand francs."

 

"She might have millions," said Phellion, "and I might see them there

at my feet before I would propose Thuillier, when I owe to the memory

of the best of men to nominate, if possible, Horace Bianchon, his

nephew. From the heaven above us Popinot is contemplating and

applauding me!" cried Phellion, with exaltation. "It is by such

considerations as you suggest that France is being lowered, and the

bourgeoisie are bringing themselves into contempt."

 

"My father is right," said Felix, coming out of a deep reverie. "He

deserves our respect and love; as he has throughout the whole course

of his modest and honored life. I would not owe my happiness either to

remorse in his noble soul, or to a low political bargain. I love

Celeste as I love my own family; but, above all that, I place my

father's honor, and since this question is a matter of conscience with

him it must not be spoken of again."

 

Phellion, with his eyes full of tears, went up to his eldest son and

took him in his arms, saying, "My son! my son!" in a choking voice.

 

"All that is nonsense," whispered Madame Phellion in Madame Barniol's

ear. "Come and dress me; I shall make an end of this; I know your

father; he has put his foot down now. To carry out the plan that pious

young man, Theodose, suggested, I want your help; hold yourself ready

to give it, my daughter."

 

At this moment, Genevieve came in and gave a letter to Monsieur

Phellion.

 

"An invitation for dinner to-day, for Madame Phellion and Felix and

myself, at the Thuilliers'," he said.

 

The magnificent and surprising idea of Thuillier's municipal

advancement, put forth by the "advocate of the poor" was not less

upsetting in the Thuillier household than it was in the Phellion

salon. Jerome Thuillier, without actually confiding anything to his

sister, for he made it a point of honor to obey his Mephistopheles,

had rushed to her in great excitement to say:--

 

"My dearest girl" (he always touched her heart with those caressing

words), "we shall have some big-wigs at dinner to-day. I'm going to

ask the Minards; therefore take pains about your dinner. I have

written to Monsieur and Madame Phellion; it is rather late; but

there's no need of ceremony with them. As for the Minards, I must

throw a little dust in their eyes; I have a particular need of them."

 

"Four Minards, three Phellions, four Collevilles, and ourselves; that

makes thirteen--"

 

"La Peyrade, fourteen; and it is worth while to invite Dutocq; he may

be useful to us. I'll go up and see him."

 

"What are you scheming?" cried his sister. "Fifteen to dinner! There's

forty francs, at the very least, waltzing off."

 

"You won't regret them, my dearest. I want you to be particularly

agreeable to our young friend, la Peyrade. There's a friend, indeed!

you'll soon have proofs of that! If you love me, cosset him well."

 

So saying, he departed, leaving Brigitte bewildered.

 

"Proofs, indeed! yes, I'll look out for proofs," she said. "I'm not to

be caught with fine words, not I! He is an amiable fellow; but before

I take him into my heart I shall study him a little closer."

 

After inviting Dutocq, Thuillier, having bedizened himself, went to

the hotel Minard, rue des Macons-Sorbonne, to capture the stout Zelie,

and gloss over the shortness of the invitation.

 

Minard had purchased one of those large and sumptuous habitations

which the old religious orders built about the Sorbonne, and as

Thuillier mounted the broad stone steps with an iron balustrade, that

proved how arts of the second class flourished under Louis XIII., he

envied both the mansion and its occupant,--the mayor.

 

This vast building, standing between a courtyard and garden, is

noticeable as a specimen of the style, both noble and elegant, of the

reign of Louis XIII., coming singularly, as it did, between the bad

taste of the expiring renaissance and the heavy grandeur of Louis

XIV., at its dawn. This transition period is shown in many public

buildings. The massive scroll-work of several facades--that of the

Sorbonne, for instance,--and columns rectified according to the rules

of Grecian art, were beginning to appear in this architecture.

 

A grocer, a lucky adulterator, now took the place of the former

ecclesiastical governor of an institution called in former times

L'Economat; an establishment connected with the general agency of the

old French clergy, and founded by the long-sighted genius of

Richelieu. Thuillier's name opened for him the doors of the salon,

where sat enthroned in velvet and gold, amid the most magnificent

"Chineseries," the poor woman who weighed with all her avoirdupois on

the hearts and minds of princes and princesses at the "popular balls"

of the palace.

 

"Isn't she a good subject for 'La Caricature'?" said a so-called lady

of the bedchamber to a duchess, who could hardly help laughing at the

aspect of Zelie, glittering with diamonds, red as a poppy, squeezed

into a gold brocade, and rolling along like the casts of her former

shop.

 

"Will you pardon me, fair lady," began Thuillier, twisting his body,

and pausing in pose number two of his imperial repertory, "for having

allowed this invitation to remain in my desk, thinking, all the while,

that it was sent? It is for to-day, but perhaps I am too late?"

 

Zelie examined her husband's face as he approached them to receive

Thuillier; then she said:--

 

"We intended to drive into the country and dine at some chance

restaurant; but we'll give up that idea and all the more readily

because, in my opinion, it is getting devilishly vulgar to drive out

of Paris on Sundays."

 

"We will have a little dance to the piano for the young people, if

enough come, as I hope they will. I have sent a line to Phellion,

whose wife is intimate with Madame Pron, the successor--"

 

"Successor_ess_," interrupted Madame Minard.

 

"No," said Thuillier, "it ought to be success'ress; just as we say

may'ress, dropping the O, you know."

 

"Is it full dress?" asked Madame Minard.

 

"Heavens! no," replied Thuillier; "you would get me finely scolded by

my sister. No, it is only a family party. Under the Empire, madame, we

all devoted ourselves to dancing. At that great epoch of our national

life they thought as much of a fine dancer as they did of a good

soldier. Nowadays the country is so matter-of-fact."

 

"Well, we won't talk politics," said the mayor, smiling. "The King is

grand; he is very able. I have a deep admiration for my own time, and

for the institutions which we have given to ourselves. The King, you

may be sure, knows very well what he is doing by the development of

industries. He is struggling hand to hand against England; and we are

doing him more harm during this fruitful peace than all the wars of

the Empire would have done."

 

"What a deputy Minard would make!" cried Zelie, naively. "He practises

speechifying at home. You'll help us to get him elected, won't you,

Thuillier?"

 

"We won't talk politics now," replied Thuillier. "Come at five."

 

"Will that little Vinet be there?" asked Minard; "he comes, no doubt,

for Celeste."

 

"Then he may go into mourning," replied Thuillier. "Brigitte won't

hear of him."

 

Zelie and Minard exchanged a smile of satisfaction.

 

"To think that we must hob-nob with such common people, all for the

sake of our son!" cried Zelie, when Thuillier was safely down the

staircase, to which the mayor had accompanied him.

 

"Ha! he thinks to be deputy!" thought Thuillier, as he walked away.

"These grocers! nothing satisfies them. Heavens! what would Napoleon

say if he could see the government in the hands of such people! I'm a

trained administrator, at any rate. What a competitor, to be sure! I

wonder what la Peyrade will say?"

 

The ambitious ex-beau now went to invite the whole Laudigeois family

for the evening, after which he went to the Collevilles', to make sure

that Celeste should wear a becoming gown. He found Flavie rather

pensive. She hesitated about coming, but Thuillier overcame her

indecision.

 

"My old and ever young friend," he said, taking her round the waist,

for she was alone in her little salon, "I won't have any secret from

you. A great affair is in the wind for me. I can't tell you more than

that, but I can ask you to be particularly charming to a certain young

man--"

 

"Who is it?"

 

"La Peyrade."

 

"Why, Charles?"

 

"He holds my future in his hands. Besides, he's a man of genius. I

know what that is. He's got this sort of thing,"--and Thuillier made

the gesture of a dentist pulling out a back tooth. "We must bind him

to us, Flavie. But, above all, don't let him see his power. As for me,

I shall just give and take with him."

 

"Do you want me to be coquettish?"

 

"Not too much so, my angel," replied Thuillier, with a foppish air.

 

And he departed, not observing the stupor which overcame Flavie.

 

"That young man is a power," she said to herself. "Well, we shall

see!"

 

For these reasons she dressed her hair with marabouts, put on her

prettiest gown of gray and pink, which allowed her fine shoulders to

be seen beneath a pelerine of black lace, and took care to keep

Celeste in a little silk frock made with a yoke and a large plaited

collarette, telling her to dress her hair plainly, a la Berthe. 

CHAPTER VIII (AD MAJOREM THEODOSIS GLORIAM)

At half-past four o'clock Theodose was at his post. He had put on his

vacant, half-servile manner and soft voice, and he drew Thuillier at

once into the garden.

 

"My friend," he said, "I don't doubt your triumph, but I feel the

necessity of again warning you to be absolutely silent. If you are

questioned about anything, especially about Celeste, make evasive

answers which will keep your questioners in suspense. You must have

learned how to do that in a government office."

 

"I understand!" said Thuillier. "But what certainty have you?"

 

"You'll see what a fine dessert I have prepared for you. But please be

modest. There come the Minards; let me pipe to them. Bring them out

here, and then disappear yourself."

 

After the first salutations, la Peyrade was careful to keep close to

the mayor, and presently at an opportune moment he drew him aside to

say:--

 

"Monsieur le maire, a man of your political importance doesn't come to

bore himself in a house of this kind without an object. I don't want

to fathom your motives--which, indeed, I have no right to do--and my

part in this world is certainly not to mingle with earthly powers; but

please pardon my apparent presumption, and deign to listen to a piece

of advice which I shall venture to give you. If I do you a service

to-day you are in a position to return it to me to-morrow; therefore,

in case I should be so fortunate