The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honoré de Balzac (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📕

and Thuillier is sitting there listening to him like a buzzard. I shall go in and tell them they can't keep ladies waiting that way."

But just as she put her hand on the lock she heard Thuillier's visitor raise his voice, and that made her look through the keyhole again.

"He is standing up; he's going," she said with satisfaction.

But a moment later she saw she had made a mistake; the little old man had only left his chair to walk up and down the room and continue the conversation with greater freedom.

"My gracious! I shall certainly go in," she said, "and tell Thuillier we are going without him, and he can follow us."

So saying, the old maid gave two little sharp and very imperious raps on the door, after which she resolutely entered the study.

La Peyrade, goaded by anxiety, had the bad taste to look through the keyhole himself at what was happening. Instantly he thought he recognized the small old man he had seen under the name of "the commander" on that memorable morning when he had waited for Madame de Godollo. Then he saw Thuillier addressing his sister with impatience and with gestures of authority altogether out of his usual habits of deference and submission.

"It seems," said Brigitte, re-entering the salon, "that Thuillier finds some great interest in that creature's talk, for he ordered me bluntly to leave them, though the little old fellow did say, rather civilly, that they would soon be through. But Jerome added: '_Mind_, you are to wait for me.' Really, since he has taken to making newspapers I don't know him; he has set up an air as if he were leading the world with his wand."

"I am very much afraid he is being entangled by some adventurer," said la Peyrade. "I am pretty sure I saw that old man at Madame de Godollo's the day I went to warn her off the premises; he must be of the same stripe."

"Why didn't you tell me?" cried Brigitte. "I'd have asked him for news of the countess, and let him see we knew what we knew of his Hungarian."

Just then the sound of moving chairs was heard, and Brigitte darted back to the keyhole.

"Yes," she said, "he is really going, and Thuillier is bowing him out respectfully!"

As Thuillier did not immediately return, Colleville had time to go to the window and exclaim at seeing the little old gentleman driving away in an elegant coupe, of which the reader has already heard.

"The deuce!" cried Colleville; "what an ornate livery! If he is an adventurer he is a number one."

At last Thuillier re-entered the room, his face full of care, his manner extremely grave.

"My dear la Peyrade," he said, "you did not tell us that another proposal of marriage had been seriously considered by you."

"Yes, I did; I told you that a very rich heiress had been offered to me, but that my inclinations were here, and that I had not given any encouragement to the affair; consequently, of course, there was no serious engagement."

"Well, I think you do wrong to treat that proposal so lightly."

"What! do you mean to say, in presence of these ladies, that you blame me for remaining faithful to my first desires and our old engagement?"

"My friend, the conversation that I have just had has been a most instructive one to me; and when you know what I know, with other details personal to yourself, which will be confided to you, I think that you will enter into my ideas. One thing is certain; we shall not go to the notary to-day; and as for you, the best thing that you can do is to go, without delay, to Monsieur du Portail."

"That name again! it pursues me like a remorse," exclaimed la Peyrade.

"Yes; go at once; he is awaiting you. It is an indispensable preliminary before we can go any farther. When you have seen that excellent man and heard what he has to say to you--well, _then_ if you persist in claiming Celeste's hand, we might perhaps carry out our plans. Until then we shall take no steps in the matter."

"But, my poor Thuillier," said Brigitte, "you have let yourself be gammoned by a rascal; that man belongs to the Godollo set."

"Madame de Godollo," replied Thuillier, "is not at all what you suppose her to be, and the best thing this house can do is never to say one word about her, either good or evil. As for la Peyrade, as this is not the first time he has been requested to go and see Monsieur du Portail, I am surprised that he hesitates to do so."

"Ah ca!" said Brigitte, "that little old man has completely befooled you."

"I tell you that that little old man is all that he appears to be. He wears seven crosses, he drives in a splendid equipage, and he has told me things that have overwhelmed me with astonishment."

"Well, perhaps he's a fortune-teller like Madame Fontaine, who managed once upon a time to upset me when Madame Minard and I, just to amuse ourselves, went to consult her."

"Well, if he is not a sorcerer he certainly has a very long arm," said Thuillier, "and I think a man would suffer for it if he didn't respect his advice. As for you, Brigitte, he saw you only for a minute, but he told me your whole character; he said you were a masterful woman, born to command."

"The fact is," said Brigitte, licking her chops at this compliment, like a cat drinking cream, "he has a very well-bred air, that little old fellow. You take my advice, my dear," she said, turning to la Peyrade; "if such a very big-wig as that wants you to do so, go and see this du Portail, whoever he is. That, it seems to me, won't bind you to anything."

"You are right, Brigitte," said Colleville; "as for me, I'd follow up all the Portails, or Port_ers_, or Port_ents_ for the matter of that, if they asked me to."

The scene was beginning to resemble that in the "Barber of Seville," where everybody tells Basil to go to bed, for he certainly has a fever. La Peyrade, thus prodded, picked up his hat in some ill-humor, and went where his destiny called him,--"quo sua fata vocabant."


CHAPTER XV. AT DU PORTAIL'S

On reaching the rue Honore-Chevalier la Peyrade felt a doubt; the dilapidated appearance of the house to which he was summoned made him think he had mistaken the number. It seemed to him that a person of Monsieur du Portail's evident importance could not inhabit such a place. It was therefore with some hesitation that he accosted Sieur Perrache, the porter. But no sooner had he entered the antechamber of the apartment pointed out to him than the excellent deportment of Bruneau, the old valet, and the extremely comfortable appearance of the furniture and other appointments made him see that he was probably in the right place. Introduced at once, as soon as he had given his name, into the study of the master of the house, his surprise was great when he found himself in presence of the commander, so called, the friend of Madame de Godollo, and the little old man he had seen half an hour earlier with Thuillier.

"At last!" said du Portail, rising, and offering la Peyrade a chair, "at last we meet, my refractory friend; it has taken a good deal to bring you here."

"May I know, monsieur," said la Peyrade, haughtily, not taking the chair which was offered to him, "what interest you have in meddling with my affairs? I do not know you, and I may add that the place where I once saw you did not create an unconquerable desire in me to make your acquaintance."

"Where have you seen me?" asked du Portail.

"In the apartment of a strumpet who called herself Madame de Godollo."

"Where monsieur, consequently, went himself," said the little old man, "and for a purpose much less disinterested than mine."

"I have not come here," said la Peyrade, "to bandy words with any one. I have the right, monsieur, to a full explanation as to the meaning of your proceedings towards me. I therefore request you not to delay them by a facetiousness to which, I assure you, I am not in the humor to listen."

"Then, my dear fellow," said du Portail, "sit down, for I am not in the humor to twist my neck by talking up at you."

The words were reasonable, and they were said in a tone that showed the old gentleman was not likely to be frightened by grand airs. La Peyrade therefore deferred to the wishes of his host, but he took care to do so with the worst grace possible.

"Monsieur Cerizet," said du Portail, "a man of excellent standing in the world, and who has the honor to be one of your friends--"

"I have nothing to do with that man now," said la Peyrade, sharply, understanding the malicious meaning of the old man's speech.

"Well, the time has been," said du Portail, "when you saw him, at least, occasionally: for instance, when you paid for his dinner at the Rocher de Cancale. As I was saying, I charged the virtuous Monsieur Cerizet to sound you as to a marriage--"

"Which I refused," interrupted la Peyrade, "and which I now refuse again, more vehemently than ever."

"That's the question," said the old man. "I think, on the contrary, that you will accept it; and it is to talk over this affair with you that I have so long desired a meeting."

"But this crazy girl that you are flinging at my head," said la Peyrade, "what is she to you? She can't be your daughter, or you would put more decency into your hunt for a husband."

"This young girl," replied du Portail, "is the daughter of one of my friends who died about ten years ago; at his death I took her to live with me, and have given her all the care her sad condition needed. Her fortune, which I have greatly increased, added to my own, which I intend to leave to her, will make her a very rich heiress. I know that you are no enemy to handsome 'dots,' for you have sought them in various places,--Thuillier's house, for instance, or, to use your own expression, that of a strumpet whom you scarcely knew. I have therefore supposed you would accept at my hands a very rich young woman, especially as her infirmity is declared by the best physicians to be curable; whereas you can never cure Monsieur and Mademoiselle Thuillier, the one of being a fool, the other of being a fury, any more than you could cure Madame Komorn of being a woman of very medium virtue and extremely giddy."

"It may suit me," replied la Peyrade, "to marry the daughter of a fool and a fury if I choose her, or I might become the husband of a clever coquette, if passion seized me, but the Queen of Sheba herself, if imposed upon me, neither you, monsieur, nor the ablest and most powerful man living could force me to accept."

"Precisely; therefore it is to your own good sense and intelligence that I now address myself; but we have to come face to face with people in order to speak to them, you know. Now, then, let us look into your