“And do you suppose,” cried that cold-blooded logician, “that a young
man of fashion can live here in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, in the
Maison Vauquer--an exceedingly respectable boarding-house in every way,
I grant you, but an establishment that, none the less, falls short
of being fashionable? The house is comfortable, it is lordly in its
abundance; it is proud to be the temporary abode of a Rastignac; but,
after all, it is in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, and luxury would be
out of place here, where we only aim at the purely _patriarchalorama_.
If you mean to cut a figure in Paris, my young friend,” Vautrin
continued, with half-paternal jocularity, “you must have three horses,
a tilbury for the mornings, and a closed carriage for the evening; you
should spend altogether about nine thousand francs on your stables. You
would show yourself unworthy of your destiny if you spent no more than
three thousand francs with your tailor, six hundred in perfumery, a
hundred crowns to your shoemaker, and a hundred more to your hatter. As
for your laundress, there goes another thousand francs; a young man of
fashion must of necessity make a great point of his linen; if your linen
comes up to the required standard, people often do not look any further.
Love and the Church demand a fair altar-cloth. That is fourteen thousand
francs. I am saying nothing of losses at play, bets, and presents; it
is impossible to allow less than two thousand francs for pocket money. I
have led that sort of life, and I know all about these expenses. Add the
cost of necessaries next; three hundred louis for provender, a thousand
francs for a place to roost in. Well, my boy, for all these little wants
of ours we had need to have twenty-five thousand francs every year in
our purse, or we shall find ourselves in the kennel, and people laughing
at us, and our career is cut short, good-bye to success, and good-bye to
your mistress! I am forgetting your valet and your groom! Is Christophe
going to carry your _billets-doux_ for you? Do you mean to employ the
stationery you use at present? Suicidal policy! Hearken to the wisdom
of your elders!” he went on, his bass voice growing louder at each
syllable. “Either take up your quarters in a garret, live virtuously,
and wed your work, or set about the thing in a different way.”
Vautrin winked and leered in the direction of Mlle. Taillefer to enforce
his remarks by a look which recalled the late tempting proposals by
which he had sought to corrupt the student’s mind.
Several days went by, and Rastignac lived in a whirl of gaiety. He dined
almost every day with Mme. de Nucingen, and went wherever she went, only
returning to the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve in the small hours. He rose
at mid-day, and dressed to go into the Bois with Delphine if the day was
fine, squandering in this way time that was worth far more than he knew.
He turned as eagerly to learn the lessons of luxury, and was as quick
to feel its fascination, as the flowers of the date palm to receive the
fertilizing pollen. He played high, lost and won large sums of money,
and at last became accustomed to the extravagant life that young men
lead in Paris. He sent fifteen hundred francs out of his first winnings
to his mother and sisters, sending handsome presents as well as the
money. He had given out that he meant to leave the Maison Vauquer; but
January came and went, and he was still there, still unprepared to go.
One rule holds good of most young men--whether rich or poor. They never
have money for the necessaries of life, but they have always money to
spare for their caprices--an anomaly which finds its explanation in
their youth and in the almost frantic eagerness with which youth grasps
at pleasure. They are reckless with anything obtained on credit, while
everything for which they must pay in ready money is made to last as
long as possible; if they cannot have all that they want, they make
up for it, it would seem, by squandering what they have. To state the
matter simply--a student is far more careful of his hat than of his
coat, because the latter being a comparatively costly article of dress,
it is in the nature of things that a tailor should be a creditor; but
it is otherwise with the hatter; the sums of money spent with him are so
modest, that he is the most independent and unmanageable of his tribe,
and it is almost impossible to bring him to terms. The young man in the
balcony of a theatre who displays a gorgeous waistcoat for the benefit
of the fair owners of opera glasses, has very probably no socks in his
wardrobe, for the hosier is another of the genus of weevils that nibble
at the purse. This was Rastignac’s condition. His purse was always
empty for Mme. Vauquer, always full at the demand of vanity; there was
a periodical ebb and flow in his fortunes, which was seldom favorable
to the payment of just debts. If he was to leave that unsavory and mean
abode, where from time to time his pretensions met with humiliation, the
first step was to pay his hostess for a month’s board and lodging, and
the second to purchase furniture worthy of the new lodgings he must take
in his quality of dandy, a course that remained impossible. Rastignac,
out of his winnings at cards, would pay his jeweler exorbitant prices
for gold watches and chains, and then, to meet the exigencies of play,
would carry them to the pawnbroker, that discreet and forbidding-looking
friend of youth; but when it was a question of paying for board or
lodging, or for the necessary implements for the cultivation of his
Elysian fields, his imagination and pluck alike deserted him. There was
no inspiration to be found in vulgar necessity, in debts contracted for
past requirements. Like most of those who trust to their luck, he put
off till the last moment the payment of debts that among the bourgeoisie
are regarded as sacred engagements, acting on the plan of Mirabeau,
who never settled his baker’s bill until it underwent a formidable
transformation into a bill of exchange.
It was about this time when Rastignac was down on his luck and fell into
debt, that it became clear to the law student’s mind that he must have
some more certain source of income if he meant to live as he had been
doing. But while he groaned over the thorny problems of his precarious
situation, he felt that he could not bring himself to renounce the
pleasures of this extravagant life, and decided that he must continue it
at all costs. His dreams of obtaining a fortune appeared more and more
chimerical, and the real obstacles grew more formidable. His initiation
into the secrets of the Nucingen household had revealed to him that if
he were to attempt to use this love affair as a means of mending his
fortunes, he must swallow down all sense of decency, and renounce all
the generous ideas which redeem the sins of youth. He had chosen this
life of apparent splendor, but secretly gnawed by the canker worm of
remorse, a life of fleeting pleasure dearly paid for by persistent pain;
like _Le Distrait_ of La Bruyere, he had descended so far as to make
his bed in a ditch; but (also like _Le Distrait_) he himself was
uncontaminated as yet by the mire that stained his garments.
“So we have killed our mandarin, have we?” said Bianchon one day as they
left the dinner table.
“Not yet,” he answered, “but he is at his last gasp.”
The medical student took this for a joke, but it was not a jest. Eugene
had dined in the house that night for the first time for a long while,
and had looked thoughtful during the meal. He had taken his place beside
Mlle. Taillefer, and stayed through the dessert, giving his neighbor an
expressive glance from time to time. A few of the boarders discussed
the walnuts at the table, and others walked about the room, still taking
part in the conversation which had begun among them. People usually went
when they chose; the amount of time that they lingered being determined
by the amount of interest that the conversation possessed for them, or
by the difficulty of the process of digestion. In winter-time the room
was seldom empty before eight o’clock, when the four women had it all to
themselves, and made up for the silence previously imposed upon them by
the preponderating masculine element. This evening Vautrin had noticed
Eugene’s abstractedness, and stayed in the room, though he had seemed
to be in a hurry to finish his dinner and go. All through the talk
afterwards he had kept out of the sight of the law student, who quite
believed that Vautrin had left the room. He now took up his position
cunningly in the sitting-room instead of going when the last boarders
went. He had fathomed the young man’s thoughts, and felt that a crisis
was at hand. Rastignac was, in fact, in a dilemma, which many another
young man must have known.
Mme. de Nucingen might love him, or might merely be playing with
him, but in either case Rastignac had been made to experience all
the alternations of hope and despair of genuine passion, and all
the diplomatic arts of a Parisienne had been employed on him. After
compromising herself by continually appearing in public with Mme. de
Beauseant’s cousin she still hesitated, and would not give him the
lover’s privileges which he appeared to enjoy. For a whole month she had
so wrought on his senses, that at last she had made an impression on
his heart. If in the earliest days the student had fancied himself to be
master, Mme. de Nucingen had since become the stronger of the two, for
she had skilfully roused and played upon every instinct, good or bad, in
the two or three men comprised in a young student in Paris. This was not
the result of deep design on her part, nor was she playing a part, for
women are in a manner true to themselves even through their grossest
deceit, because their actions are prompted by a natural impulse. It may
have been that Delphine, who had allowed this young man to gain such an
ascendency over her, conscious that she had been too demonstrative, was
obeying a sentiment of dignity, and either repented of her concessions,
or it pleased her to suspend them. It is so natural to a Parisienne,
even when passion has almost mastered her, to hesitate and pause before
taking the plunge; to probe the heart of him to whom she intrusts her
future. And once already Mme. de Nucingen’s hopes had been betrayed,
and her loyalty to a selfish young lover had been despised. She had good
reason to be suspicious. Or it may have been that something in Eugene’s
manner (for his rapid success was making a coxcomb of him) had warned
her that the grotesque nature of their position had lowered her somewhat
in his eyes. She doubtless wished to assert her dignity; he was young,
and she would be great in his eyes; for the lover who had forsaken her
had held her so cheap that she was determined that Eugene should not
think her an easy conquest, and for this very reason--he knew that
de Marsay had been his predecessor. Finally, after the degradation of
submission to the pleasure of a heartless young rake, it was so sweet
to her to wander in the flower-strewn realms of love, that it was not
wonderful that she should wish to dwell a while on the prospect, to
tremble with the vibrations of love, to feel the freshness of the breath
of its dawn. The true lover was suffering for the sins of the false.
This inconsistency is unfortunately only to be expected so long as men
do not know how many flowers are mown down in a young woman’s soul by
the first stroke of treachery.
Whatever her reasons may have been, Delphine was playing with Rastignac,
and took pleasure in playing with him, doubtless because she felt sure
of his love, and confident that she could put an end to the torture
as soon as it was her royal pleasure to do so. Eugene’s self-love was
engaged; he could not suffer his first passage of love to end in a
defeat, and persisted in his suit like a sportsman determined to
bring down at least one partridge to celebrate his first Feast of
Saint-Hubert. The pressure of anxiety, his wounded self-love, his
despair, real or feigned, drew him nearer and nearer to this woman. All
Paris credited him with this conquest, and yet he was conscious that he
had made no progress since the day when he saw Mme. de Nucingen for the
first time. He did not know as yet that a woman’s coquetry is sometimes
more delightful than the pleasure of secure possession of her love, and
was possessed with helpless rage. If, at this time, while she denied
herself to love, Eugene gathered the springtide spoils of his life,
the fruit, somewhat sharp and green, and dearly bought, was no less
delicious to the taste. There were moments when he had not a sou in
his pockets, and at such times he thought in spite of his conscience of
Vautrin’s offer and the possibility of fortune by a marriage with Mlle.
Taillefer. Poverty would clamor so loudly that more than once he was on
the point of yielding to the cunning temptations of the terrible sphinx,
whose glance had so often exerted a strange spell over him.
Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau went up to their rooms; and Rastignac,
thinking that he was alone with the women in the dining-room, sat
between Mme. Vauquer and Mme. Couture, who was nodding over the woolen
cuffs that she was knitting by the stove, and looked at Mlle. Taillefer
so tenderly that she lowered her eyes.
“Can you be in trouble, M. Eugene?” Victorine said after a pause.
“Who has not his troubles?” answered Rastignac. “If we men were sure
of being loved, sure of a devotion which would be our reward for the
sacrifices which we are always ready to make, then perhaps we should
have no troubles.”
For answer Mlle. Taillefer only gave him a glance but it was impossible
to mistake its meaning.
“You, for instance, mademoiselle; you feel sure of your heart to-day,
but are you sure that it will never change?”
A smile flitted over the poor girl’s lips; it seemed as if a ray of
light from her soul had lighted up her face. Eugene was dismayed at the
sudden explosion of feeling caused by his words.
“Ah! but suppose,” he said, “that you should be rich and happy
to-morrow, suppose that a vast fortune dropped down from the clouds
for you, would you still love the man whom you loved in your days of
poverty?”
A charming movement of the head was her only answer.
“Even if he were very poor?”
Again the same mute answer.
“What nonsense are you talking, you two?” exclaimed Mme. Vauquer.
“Never mind,” answered Eugene; “we understand each other.”
“So there is to be an engagement of marriage between M. le Chevalier
Eugene de Rastignac and Mlle. Victorine Taillefer, is there?” The words
were uttered in Vautrin’s deep voice, and Vautrin appeared at the door
as he spoke.
“Oh! how you startled me!” Mme. Couture and Mme. Vauquer exclaimed
together.
“I might make a worse choice,” said Rastignac, laughing. Vautrin’s voice
had thrown him into the most painful agitation that he had yet known.
“No bad jokes, gentlemen!” said Mme. Couture. “My dear, let us go
upstairs.”
Mme. Vauquer followed the two ladies, meaning to pass the evening in
their room, an arrangement that economized fire and candlelight. Eugene
and Vautrin were left alone.
“I felt sure you would come round to it,” said the elder man with the
coolness that nothing seemed to shake. “But stay a moment! I have as
much delicacy as anybody else. Don’t make up your mind on the spur of
the moment; you are a little thrown off your balance just now. You are
in debt, and I want you to come over to my way of thinking after sober
reflection, and not in a fit of passion or desperation. Perhaps you want
a thousand crowns. There, you can have them if you like.”
The tempter took out a pocketbook, and drew thence three banknotes,
which he fluttered before the student’s eyes. Eugene was in a most
painful dilemma. He had debts, debts of honor. He owed a hundred louis
to the Marquis d’Ajuda and to the Count de Trailles; he had not the
money, and for this reason had not dared to go to Mme. de Restaud’s
house, where he was expected that evening. It was one of those informal
gatherings where tea and little cakes are handed round, but where it is
possible to lose six thousand francs at whist in the course of a night.
“You must see,” said Eugene, struggling to hide a convulsive tremor,
“that after what has passed between us, I cannot possibly lay myself
under any obligation to you.”
“Quite right; I should be sorry to hear you speak otherwise,” answered
the tempter. “You are a fine young fellow, honorable, brave as a lion,
and as gentle as a young girl. You would be a fine haul for the devil! I
like youngsters of your sort. Get rid of one or two more prejudices, and
you will see the world as it is. Make a little scene now and then, and
act a virtuous part in it, and a man with a head on his shoulders can
do exactly as he likes amid deafening applause from the fools in the
gallery. Ah! a few days yet, and you will be with us; and if you would
only be tutored by me, I would put you in the way of achieving all your
ambitions. You should no sooner form a wish than it should be realized
to the full; you should have all your desires--honors, wealth, or women.
Civilization should flow with milk and honey for you. You should be our
pet and favorite, our Benjamin. We would all work ourselves to death for
you with pleasure; every obstacle should be removed from your path. You
have a few prejudices left; so you think that I am a scoundrel, do you?
Well, M. de Turenne, quite as honorable a man as you take yourself to
be, had some little private transactions with bandits, and did not
feel that his honor was tarnished. You would rather not lie under any
obligation to me, eh? You need not draw back on that account,” Vautrin
went on, and a smile stole over his lips. “Take these bits of paper
and write across this,” he added, producing a piece of stamped paper,
“_Accepted the sum of three thousand five hundred francs due this day
twelvemonth_, and fill in the date. The rate of interest is stiff enough
to silence any scruples on your part; it gives you the right to call me
a Jew. You can call quits with me on the score of gratitude. I am quite
willing that you should despise me to-day, because I am sure that you
will have a kindlier feeling towards me later on. You will find out
fathomless depths in my nature, enormous and concentrated forces that
weaklings call vices, but you will never find me base or ungrateful.
In short, I am neither a pawn nor a bishop, but a castle, a tower of
strength, my boy.”
“What manner of man are you?” cried Eugene. “Were you created to torment
me?”
“Why no; I am a good-natured fellow, who is willing to do a dirty piece
of work to put you high and dry above the mire for the rest of your
days. Do you ask the reason of this devotion? All right; I will tell you
that some of these days. A word or two in your ear will explain it. I
have begun by shocking you, by showing you the way to ring the changes,
and giving you a sight of the mechanism of the social machine; but your
first fright will go off like a conscript’s terror on the battlefield.
You will grow used to regarding men as common soldiers who have made up
their minds to lose their lives for some self-constituted king. Times
have altered strangely. Once you could say to a bravo, ‘Here are a
hundred crowns; go and kill Monsieur So-and-so for me,’ and you could
sup quietly after turning some one off into the dark for the least thing
in the world. But nowadays I propose to put you in the way of a handsome
fortune; you have only to nod your head, it won’t compromise you in any
way, and you hesitate. ‘Tis an effeminate age.”
Eugene accepted the draft, and received the banknotes in exchange for
it.
“Well, well. Come, now, let us talk rationally,” Vautrin continued. “I
mean to leave this country in a few months’ time for America, and set
about planting tobacco. I will send you the cigars of friendship. If
I make money at it, I will help you in your career. If I have no
children--which will probably be the case, for I have no anxiety to
raise slips of myself here--you shall inherit my fortune. That is what
you may call standing by a man; but I myself have a liking for you. I
have a mania, too, for devoting myself to some one else. I have done it
before. You see, my boy, I live in a loftier sphere than other men do;
I look on all actions as means to an end, and the end is all that I look
at. What is a man’s life to me? Not _that_,” he said, and he snapped his
thumb-nail against his teeth. “A man, in short, is everything to me, or
just nothing at all. Less than nothing if his name happens to be Poiret;
you can crush him like a bug, he is flat and he is offensive. But a man
is a god when he is like you; he is not a machine covered with a skin,
but a theatre in which the greatest sentiments are displayed--great
thoughts and feelings--and for these, and these only, I live. A
sentiment--what is that but the whole world in a thought? Look at Father
Goriot. For him, his two girls are the whole universe; they are the clue
by which he finds his way through creation. Well, for my own part,
I have fathomed the depths of life, there is only one real
sentiment--comradeship between man and man. Pierre and Jaffier, that is
my passion. I knew _Venice Preserved_ by heart. Have you met many men
plucky enough when a comrade says, ‘Let us bury a dead body!’ to go and
do it without a word or plaguing him by taking a high moral tone? I have
done it myself. I should not talk like this to just everybody, but you
are not like an ordinary man; one can talk to you, you can understand
things. You will not dabble about much longer among the tadpoles in
these swamps. Well, then, it is all settled. You will marry. Both of us
carry our point. Mine is made of iron, and will never soften, he! he!”
