Part 13

A retired manufacturer of painted canvases, corresponding member of the academies of Besançon and Uzès, addressed him from one end of the table to the other, to ask whether what was generally said of his astonishing progress in the study of the New Testament was true.

A profound silence suddenly fell; a Latin New Testament was found, as if by magic, in the hands of the learned member of two academies. Upon Julien's reply, a half-sentence in Latin was read at random. He recited it: his memory proved faithful, and this prodigy was admired with all the noisy energy of the end of a dinner. Julien looked at the painted faces of the ladies; several were not unattractive. He had singled out the wife of the handsome singing tax-collector.

—I am ashamed, in truth, to speak Latin so long before these ladies, he said, looking at her. If Mr. Rubigneau—that was the member of the two academies—will be so kind as to read a Latin sentence at random, instead of answering by following the Latin text, I shall try to translate it impromptu.

This second trial crowned his glory.

There were several rich liberals present, but happy fathers of children likely to obtain scholarships, and in that capacity suddenly converted since the last mission. Despite this stroke of fine policy, Mr. de Rênal had never wished to receive them in his home. These worthy fellows, who knew Julien only by reputation and from having seen him on horseback on the day of the entry of the king of ***, were his noisiest admirers. When will these fools tire of listening to this biblical style, which they understand not at all? he thought. But on the contrary this style amused them by its strangeness; they laughed at it. But Julien grew weary.

He rose gravely as the clock struck six and spoke of a chapter of Ligorio's new theology which he had to learn in order to recite it the next day to Mr. Chélan. For my trade, he added pleasantly, is to hear lessons recited and to recite them myself.

There was much laughter, much admiration; such is the wit in use at Verrières. Julien was already standing, everyone rose despite decorum; such is the empire of genius. Mme Valenod detained him a further quarter of an hour: he had to hear the children recite their catechism; they made the drollest of blunders, of which he alone took note. He took care not to correct them. What ignorance of the first principles of religion, he thought. He was bowing at last and believed he could escape, but he had to endure a fable of La Fontaine.

—That author is quite immoral, Julien said to Mme Valenod; a certain fable, concerning Master Jean Chouart, dares to pour ridicule upon what is most venerable. He is sharply blamed by the best commentators.

Before leaving, Julien received four or five dinner invitations. This young man does honor to the department, the guests cried out all together, much cheered. They went so far as to speak of a pension voted from the communal funds, to enable him to continue his studies in Paris.

While this imprudent idea resounded through the dining room, Julien had nimbly gained the carriage gate. Ah! scoundrels! scoundrels! he cried under his breath three or four times in succession, giving himself the pleasure of breathing the fresh air.

He felt thoroughly aristocratic at that moment, he who, for so long, had been so shocked by the disdainful smile and haughty superiority he detected at the bottom of every politeness addressed to him at Mr. de Rênal's. He could not help feeling the extreme difference. Let us forget even, he said to himself as he went, that it is money stolen from poor prisoners, and further that singing is forbidden! Did Mr. de Rênal ever think to tell his guests the price of each bottle of wine he sets before them? And this Mr. Valenod, in the enumeration of his properties, which returns ever and again, he cannot speak of his house, his estate, etc., if his wife is present, without saying your house, your estate.

This lady, apparently so sensitive to the pleasure of property, had just made an abominable scene, during dinner, with a servant who had broken a wine glass and unmatched one of her dozens; and the servant had answered with the utmost insolence.

What a set! Julien said to himself; they might give me half of all they steal, and I would not live with them. One fine day I should betray myself; I could not restrain the expression of the disdain they inspire in me.

He had nevertheless, by order of Mme de Rênal, to attend several dinners of the same kind; Julien was in fashion, his honor-guard uniform was forgiven him, or rather this imprudence was the true cause of his successes. Soon nothing was spoken of in Verrières but who would win the learned young man in the struggle between Mr. de Rênal and the director of the poorhouse. These gentlemen formed, with Mr. Maslon, a triumvirate which, for many years, had tyrannized the town. The mayor was envied, the liberals had cause to complain of him; but after all he was noble and made for superiority, whereas the father of Mr. Valenod had left him not six hundred livres of income. He had had to pass, for him, from pity for the bad apple-green coat that everyone had known him in during his youth, to envy for his Norman horses, for his gold chains, for his clothes from Paris, for all his present prosperity.

In the flood of this world new to Julien, he believed he detected an honest man; he was a geometer, named Gros, and passed for a Jacobin. Julien, having vowed never to say anything but what seemed false to himself, was obliged to confine himself to suspicion regarding Mr. Gros. He received large packets of themes from Vergy. He was advised to see his father often, and conformed to this sad necessity. In short, he was mending his reputation fairly well, when one morning he was much surprised to feel himself awakened by two hands that closed his eyes.

It was Mme de Rênal, who had made a trip to the town, and, mounting the stairs four at a time, and leaving her children occupied with a favorite rabbit that had come on the trip, had reached Julien's room an instant before them. This moment was delicious, but very short: Mme de Rênal had disappeared when the children arrived with the rabbit, which they wanted to show their friend. Julien gave a good welcome to all, even to the rabbit. It seemed to him he found his family again; he felt he loved these children, he delighted to chat with them. He was astonished at the sweetness of their voices, at the simplicity and nobility of their little ways; he needed to wash his imagination of all vulgar modes of acting, of all unpleasant thoughts amid which he breathed at Verrières. It was ever the fear of want, it was ever luxury and misery tearing at each other's hair. The people with whom he dined, over their roast, made confidences humiliating for them, and nauseating for whoever heard them.

—You nobles are right to be proud, he said to Mme de Rênal. And he told her of all the dinners he had endured.

—You are all the fashion then! And she laughed heartily, thinking of the rouge that Mme Valenod believed herself obliged to put on every time she expected Julien. I believe she has designs upon your heart, she added.

The breakfast was delicious. The presence of the children, though seemingly awkward, in fact increased the common happiness. These poor children knew not how to testify their joy at seeing Julien again. The servants had not failed to tell them that two hundred francs more were offered to him, to educate the little Valenods.

In the middle of breakfast, Stanislas-Xavier, still pale from his great illness, suddenly asked his mother how much her silver place-setting and the cup he drank from were worth.

—Why do you ask?

—I want to sell them and give the price to Mr. Julien, so that he shan't be taken in staying with us.

Julien embraced him, tears in his eyes. His mother wept outright, while Julien, who had taken Stanislas on his knees, explained to him that one must not use the word taken in, which, employed in this sense, was a lackey's way of speaking. Seeing the pleasure he gave Mme de Rênal, he sought to explain by picturesque examples, which amused the children, what it was to be taken in.

—I understand, said Stanislas, it's the crow who is silly enough to drop his cheese, which the fox, who was a flatterer, takes.

Mme de Rênal, wild with joy, covered her children with kisses, which could scarcely be done without leaning a little on Julien.

Suddenly the door opened; it was Mr. de Rênal. His severe and discontented face made a strange contrast with the gentle joy his presence dispelled. Mme de Rênal turned pale; she felt unable to deny anything. Julien seized the word and, speaking very loud, began to tell the mayor the story of the silver cup Stanislas wanted to sell. He was sure this tale would be ill received. First Mr. de Rênal frowned by good habit at the mere name of money. The mention of that metal, he said, is always a preface to some draft upon my purse.

But here there was more than money interest; there was increase of suspicion. The look of happiness that animated his family in his absence was not the thing to smooth matters, near a man ruled by so touchy a vanity. As his wife praised to him the graceful and witty manner in which Julien gave new ideas to his pupils:

—Yes! yes! I know, he makes me hateful to my children; it is easy for him to be a hundred times more lovable to them than I, who am, at bottom, the master. Everything in this century tends to cast odium upon legitimate authority. Poor France!

Mme de Rênal did not stop to examine the nuances of the reception her husband gave her. She had just glimpsed the possibility of spending twelve hours with Julien. She had a crowd of purchases to make in town, and declared she absolutely wished to go dine at the inn; whatever her husband might say or do, she held to her idea. The children were delighted at the mere word inn, which modern prudery pronounces with such pleasure.

Mr. de Rênal left his wife in the first novelty shop she entered, to go make some visits. He returned more morose than in the morning; he was convinced that the whole town was occupied with him and Julien. In truth, no one had yet let him suspect the offensive part of the public's talk. What had been repeated to the mayor related exclusively to whether Julien would stay with him for six hundred francs, or accept the eight hundred offered by the director of the poorhouse.

This director, who met Mr. de Rênal in society, gave him the cold shoulder. This conduct was not without skill; there is little thoughtlessness in the provinces: sensations there are so rare, that they are thoroughly savored.

Mr. Valenod was what is called, a hundred leagues from Paris, a braggart; it is a species of an effrontery and coarse nature. His triumphant existence since 1815 had reinforced his fine dispositions. He reigned, so to speak, at Verrières, under the orders of Mr. de Rênal, but far more active, blushing at nothing, meddling in everything, ever going, writing, speaking, forgetting humiliations, having no personal pretensions, he had ended by balancing his mayor's credit, in the eyes of the ecclesiastical power. Mr. Valenod had said, as it were, to the grocers of the place: Give me the two silliest among you; to the lawyers: Point me out the two most ignorant; to the health officers: Designate the two greatest charlatans. When he had gathered the most shameless of each trade, he said to them: Let us reign together.

The ways of these people offended Mr. de Rênal. The coarseness of Valenod was offended by nothing, not even by the contradictions the little abbé Maslon spared him not in public.

But, amid this prosperity, Mr. Valenod needed to reassure himself, by petty insolences of detail against the great truths which he well felt everyone had a right to address to him. His activity had redoubled since the fears left him by Mr. Appert's visit; he had made three trips to Besançon; he wrote several letters each mail; he sent others by unknown persons who passed his house at nightfall. He had perhaps been wrong to have old curé Chélan dismissed; for this vindictive step had caused him to be regarded, by several well-born devout women, as a profoundly wicked man. Besides, this service rendered had put him in absolute dependence on Mr. the grand vicar of Frilair, and he received strange commissions from him. His policy was at this point, when he yielded to the pleasure of writing an anonymous letter. To crown his embarrassment his wife declared to him that she wanted Julien in her house; her vanity had taken a fancy to it.

In this position, Mr. Valenod foresaw a decisive scene with his former confederate Mr. de Rênal. The latter would address harsh words to him, which mattered little to him; but he might write to Besançon and even to Paris. A cousin of some minister might suddenly drop at Verrières, and take the poorhouse. Mr. Valenod thought to draw near the liberals: that is why several were invited to the dinner where Julien recited. He would have been powerfully supported against the mayor. But elections might occur, and it was too evident that the poorhouse and a bad vote were incompatible. The account of this policy, very well divined by Mme de Rênal, had been given to Julien, while he gave her his arm to go from one shop to another, and little by little had led them to the COURS DE LA FIDÉLITÉ, where they passed several hours, almost as tranquil as at Vergy.

During this time, Mr. Valenod tried to ward off a decisive scene with his former patron, by himself taking the audacious air toward him. That day this system succeeded, but increased the mayor's ill humor.

Never had vanity, grappling with all that the petty love of money can have of most bitter and most mean, put a man in a more paltry state than that in which Mr. de Rênal found himself, on entering the inn. Never, on the contrary, had his children been more joyful and more gay. This contrast completed his irritation.

—I am superfluous in my own family, as I can see! he said on entering, in a tone he wished to make imposing.

For sole answer, his wife took him aside, and expressed to him the necessity of sending Julien away. The hours of happiness she had just found had restored her the ease and firmness necessary to follow the plan of conduct she had meditated for a fortnight. What utterly upset the poor mayor of Verrières was that he knew he was publicly joked in town about his attachment to the species. Mr. Valenod was generous as a thief, and he, he had conducted himself in a more prudent than brilliant manner in the five or ten last collections for the brotherhood of Saint-Joseph, for the congregation of the Virgin, for the congregation of the Holy Sacrament, etc., etc., etc.

Among the country squires of Verrières and surroundings adroitly classed on the register of the collecting brothers according to the amount of their offerings, one had more than once seen the name of Mr. de Rênal occupy the last line. In vain did he say that he earned nothing. The clergy does not jest on this article.

CHAPTER XXIII

SORROWS OF A FUNCTIONARY

Il piacere di alzar la testa tutto l'anno, è ben pagato da certi quarti d'ora che bisogna passar.

CASTI.

But let us leave this little man to his little fears; why did he take into his house a man of heart while he needed the soul of a valet? Why does he not know how to choose his people? The ordinary course of the nineteenth century is that, when a powerful and noble being meets a man of heart, he kills him, exiles him, imprisons him, or humiliates him so that the other has the folly to die of grief. By chance here, it is not yet the man of heart who suffers. The great misfortune of the small towns of France and of governments by election like that of New York, is not to be able to forget that beings such as Mr. de Rênal exist in the world. In the midst of a town of twenty thousand inhabitants, these men make public opinion, and public opinion is terrible in a country that has the charter. A man endowed with a noble, generous soul, who would have been your friend, but who lives a hundred leagues away, judges you by the public opinion of your town, which is made by the fools whom chance has made noble, rich, and moderate. Woe to him who distinguishes himself.

Immediately after dinner, they set off again for Vergy; but, as early as the day after next, Julien saw the whole family return to Verrières.

An hour had not passed, when, to his great astonishment, he discovered that Mme de Rênal was keeping something secret from him. She interrupted her conversations with her husband as soon as he appeared and seemed almost to wish he would go away. Julien did not need to be told twice. He became cold and reserved; Mme de Rênal noticed it and sought no explanation. Will she give me a successor? Julien thought. Only two days ago, so intimate with me! But they say that is how these great ladies behave. It is like kings, never more attentions than to the minister who, on returning home, finds his letter of disgrace.

Julien remarked that in these conversations, which broke off abruptly at his approach, there was often question of a large house belonging to the commune of Verrières, old, but vast and convenient, and situated opposite the church, in the most commercial part of the town. What can there be in common between this house and a new lover? Julien said to himself. In his sorrow, he repeated those pretty verses of François I, which seemed new to him because it was not a month since Mme de Rênal had taught them to him. Then, by how many oaths, by how many caresses, had not each of those verses been belied!

Souvent femme varie Bien fol qui s'y fie.

Mr. de Rênal left by post for Besançon. This trip was decided in two hours; he seemed much tormented. On his return, he threw a large packet covered with gray paper on the table.

—There is that affair, he said to his wife.

An hour later, Julien saw the bill-poster carrying off this large packet; he followed him eagerly. I shall know the secret at the first street corner.

He waited, impatient, behind the bill-poster, who, with his large brush, was daubing the back of the poster. Scarcely was it in place, than Julien's curiosity saw there the very detailed announcement of the leasing at public auction of this large old house, whose name came so often in Mr. de Rênal's conversations with his wife. The letting of the lease was announced for the next day at two o'clock in the communal hall, at the extinction of the third fire. Julien was much disappointed; he found the delay rather short: how would all competitors have time to be warned? But otherwise, this poster, which was dated fifteen days before and which he read entire in three different places, taught him nothing.

He went to view the house to let. The porter, not seeing him approach, was saying mysteriously to a neighbor:

—Bah! bah! labor lost. Mr. Maslon promised him he shall have it for three hundred francs, and as the mayor balked, he was summoned to the bishop's by Mr. the grand vicar of Frilair.

The arrival of Julien seemed to disconcert the two friends, who added not another word.

Julien did not miss the letting of the lease. There was a crowd in a poorly lit hall; but everyone eyed one another in a singular fashion. All eyes were fixed on a table, where Julien perceived, in a pewter dish, three small lighted candle-ends. The usher cried: Three hundred francs, gentlemen!

—Three hundred francs! that is too much, said a man, in a low voice, to his neighbor. And Julien was between the two. It is worth more than eight hundred; I mean to cover that bid.

—That is spitting in the wind. What will you gain by setting against you Mr. Maslon, Mr. Valenod, the bishop, his terrible grand vicar of Frilair, and all the clique.

—Three hundred twenty francs, said the other, crying out.

—Ugly beast! replied his neighbor. And just look, there is a spy of the mayor's, he added, pointing to Julien.

Julien turned sharply to punish the remark; but the two Francs-Comtois paid him no more attention. Their coolness restored his own. At this moment, the last candle-end went out, and the dragging voice of the usher adjudged the house, for nine years, to Mr. de Saint-Giraud, chief clerk at the prefecture of ***, and for three hundred thirty francs.

As soon as the mayor left the hall, the talk began.

—There are thirty francs that Grogeot's imprudence costs the commune, said one.

—But Mr. de Saint-Giraud, they answered, will avenge himself on Grogeot, he will feel it pass.

—What infamy! said a stout man to Julien's left. A house I would have given, myself, eight hundred francs for my factory, and I would have made a good bargain.

—Bah! answered him a young liberal manufacturer; is not Mr. de Saint-Giraud of the congregation? do not his four children have scholarships? The poor man! The commune of Verrières must make him a supplement of five hundred francs, that is all.

—And to think the mayor could not prevent it! remarked a third. For he is ultra, he, bravo; but he does not steal.

—He does not steal? rejoined another; no, he is a pigeon who steals. All that goes into one great common purse, and all is shared at year's end. But there is little Sorel; let us be off.

Julien returned in very bad humor; he found Mme de Rênal much saddened.

—You come from the auction? she said to him.

—Yes, madame, where I had the honor of passing for the mayor's spy.

—If she had believed me, he would have made a trip.

At this moment Mr. de Rênal appeared; he was very gloomy. Dinner passed without a word. Mr. de Rênal ordered Julien to follow the children to Vergy; the journey was sad. Mme de Rênal consoled her husband:

—You should be used to it, my friend.

In the evening, they sat in silence, around the domestic hearth; the noise of the flaming beech was the only distraction. It was one of those moments of sadness met with in the most united families. One of the children cried out joyfully:

—Someone rings! someone rings!

—Zounds! if it is Mr. de Saint-Giraud come to harass me under pretext of thanks, cried the mayor, I shall tell him his say, it is too much. It is to Valenod he will owe it, and it is I who am compromised. What to say, if those accursed Jacobin papers seize on this anecdote, and make of me a Mr. Ninety-five?

A very fine man, with large black side-whiskers, entered at that moment, following the servant.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”