The Lerouge Case by Emile Gaboriau (the dot read aloud .txt) 📕

it’s just eight days ago to-day 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, to-day, 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 advocate.

“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 money-lender. “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 advocate 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, 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 to-day, 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,