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Gobseck

“‘So be it, but no more,’ said I, with the firmness which means that a man is determined not to concede another point. “Daddy Gobseck’s face relaxed; he looked pleased with me. “‘I shall pay the money over to your principal myself,’ said he, ‘so as to establish a lien on the purchase and caution-money.’ “‘Oh, anything you like in the way of guarantees.’ “‘And besides that, you will give me bills for the amount made payable to a third party (name left blank), fifteen bills of ten thousand francs each.’ “‘Well, so long as it is acknowledged in writing that this is a double——’ “‘No!’ Gobseck broke in upon me. ‘No! Why should I trust you any more than you trust me?’ “I kept silence. “‘And furthermore,’ he continued, with a sort of good humor, ‘you will give me your advice without charging fees as long as I live, will you not?’ “‘So be it; so long as there is no outlay.’ “‘Precisely,’ said he. “Ah, by the by, you will allow me to go to see you?’ (Plainly the old man found it not so easy to assume the air of good-humor.) “‘I shall always be glad.’ “‘Ah! yes, but it would be very difficult to arrange of a morning. You will have your affairs to attend to, and I have mine.’ “‘Then come in the evening.’ “‘Oh, no!’ he answered briskly, ‘you ought to go into society and see your clients, and I myself have my friends at my cafe.’ “‘His friends!’ thought I to myself.—‘Very well,’ said I, ‘why not come at dinner-time?’ “‘That is the time,’ said Gobseck, ‘after ‘Change, at five o’clock. Good, you will see me Wednesdays and Saturdays. We will talk over business like a pair of friends. Aha! I am gay sometimes. Just give me the wing of a partridge and a glass of champagne, and we will have our chat together. I know a great many things that can be told now at this distance of time; I will teach you to know men, and what is more—women!’ “‘Oh! a partridge and a glass of champagne if you like.’ “‘Don’t do anything foolish, or I shall lose my faith in you. And don’t set up housekeeping in a grand way. Just one old general servant. I will come and see that you keep your health. I have capital invested in your head, he! he! so I am bound to look after you. There, come round in the evening and bring your principal with you!’ “‘Would you mind telling me, if there is no harm in asking, what was the good of my birth certificate in this business?’ I asked, when the little old man and I stood on the doorstep. “Jean-Esther Van Gobseck shrugged his shoulders, smiled maliciously, and said, ‘What blockheads youngsters are! Learn, master attorney (for learn you must if you don’t mean to be taken in), that integrity and brains in a man under thirty are commodities which can be mortgaged. After that age there is no counting on a man.’ “And with that he shut the door. “Three months later I was an attorney. Before very long, madame, it was my good fortune to undertake the suit for the recovery of your estates. I won the day, and my name became known. In spite of the exorbitant rate of interest, I paid off Gobseck in less than five years. I married Fanny Malvaut, whom I loved with all my heart. There was a parallel between her life and mine, between our hard work and our luck, which increased the strength of feeling on either side. One of her uncles, a well-to-do farmer, died and left her seventy thousand francs, which helped to clear off the loan. From that day my life has been nothing but happiness and prosperity. Nothing is more utterly uninteresting than a happy man, so let us say no more on that head, and return to the rest of the characters. “About a year after the purchase of the practice, I was dragged into a bachelor breakfast-party given by one of our number who had lost a bet to a young man greatly in vogue in the fashionable world. M. de Trailles, the flower of the dandyism of that day, enjoyed a prodigious reputation.” “But he is still enjoying it,” put in the Comte de Born. “No one wears his clothes with a finer air, nor drives a tandem with a better grace. It is Maxime’s gift; he can gamble, eat, and drink more gracefully than any man in the world. He is a judge of horses, hats, and pictures. All the women lose their heads over him. He always spends something like a hundred thousand francs a year, and no creature can discover that he has an acre of land or a single dividend warrant. The typical knight errant of our salons, our boudoirs, our boulevards, an amphibian half-way between a man and a woman—Maxime de Trailles is a singular being, fit for anything, and good for nothing, quite as capable of perpetrating a benefit as of planning a crime; sometimes base, sometimes noble, more often bespattered with mire than besprinkled with blood, knowing more of anxiety than of remorse, more concerned with his digestion than with any mental process, shamming passion, feeling nothing. Maxime de Trailles is a brilliant link between the hulks and the best society; he belongs to the eminently intelligent class from which a Mirabeau, or a Pitt, or a Richelieu springs at times, though it is more wont to produce Counts of Horn, Fouquier-Tinvilles, and Coignards.” “Well,” pursued Derville, when he had heard the Vicomtesse’s brother to the end, “I had heard a good deal about this individual from poor old Goriot, a client of mine; and I had already been at some pains to avoid the dangerous honor of his acquaintance, for I came across him sometimes in society. Still, my chum was so pressing about this breakfast-party of his that I could not well get out of it, unless I wished to earn a name for squeamishness. Madame, you could hardly imagine what a bachelor’s breakfast-party is like. It means superb display and a studied refinement seldom seen; the luxury of a miser when vanity leads him to be sumptuous for a day. “You are surprised as you enter the room at the neatness of the table, dazzling by reason of its silver and crystal and linen damask. Life is here in full bloom; the young fellows are graceful to behold; they smile and talk in low, demure voices like so many brides; everything about them looks girlish. Two hours later you might take the room for a battlefield after the fight. Broken glasses, serviettes crumpled and torn to rags lie strewn about among the nauseous-looking remnants of food on the dishes. There is an uproar that stuns you, jesting toasts, a fire of witticisms and bad jokes; faces are empurpled, eyes inflamed and expressionless, unintentional confidences tell you the whole truth. Bottles are smashed, and songs trolled out in the height of a diabolical racket; men call each other out, hang on each other’s necks, or fall to fisticuffs; the room is full of a horrid, close scent made up of a hundred odors, and noise enough for a hundred voices. No one has any notion of what he is eating or drinking or saying. Some are depressed, others babble, one will turn monomaniac, repeating the same word over and over again like a bell set jangling; another tries to keep the tumult within bounds; the steadiest will propose an orgy. If any one in possession of his faculties should come in, he would think that he had interrupted a Bacchanalian rite. “It was in the thick of such a chaos that M. de Trailles tried to insinuate himself into my good graces. My head was fairly clear, I was upon my guard. As for him, though he pretended to be decently drunk, he was perfectly cool, and knew very well what he was about. How it was done I do not know, but the upshot of it was that when we left Grignon’s rooms about nine o’clock in the evening, M. de Trailles had thoroughly bewitched me. I had given him my promise that I would introduce him the next day to our Papa Gobseck. The words ‘honor,’ ‘virtue,’ ‘countess,’ ‘honest woman,’ and ‘ill-luck’ were mingled in his discourse with magical potency, thanks to that golden tongue of his. “When I awoke next morning, and tried to recollect what I had done the day before, it was with great difficulty that I could make a connected tale from my impressions. At last, it seemed to me that the daughter of one of my clients was in danger of losing her reputation, together with her husband’s love and esteem, if she could not get fifty thousand francs together in the course of the morning. There had been gaming debts, and carriage-builders’ accounts, money lost to Heaven knows whom. My magician of a boon companion had impressed it upon me that she was rich enough to make good these reverses by a few years of economy. But only now did I begin to guess the reasons of his urgency. I confess, to my shame, that I had not the shadow of a doubt but that it was a matter of importance that Daddy Gobseck should make it up with this dandy. I was dressing when the young gentleman appeared. “‘M. le Comte,’ said I, after the usual greetings, ‘I fail to see why you should need me to effect an introduction to Van Gobseck, the most civil and smooth-spoken of capitalists. Money will be forthcoming if he has any, or rather, if you can give him adequate security.’ “‘Monsieur,’ said he, ‘it does not enter into my thoughts to force you to do me a service, even though you have passed your word.’ “‘Sardanapalus!’ said I to myself, ‘am I going to let that fellow imagine that I will not keep my word with him?’ “‘I had the honor of telling you yesterday,’ said he, ‘that I had fallen out with Daddy Gobseck most inopportunely; and as there is scarcely another man in Paris who can come down on the nail with a hundred thousand francs, at the end of the month, I begged of you to make my peace with him. But let us say no more about it——’ “M. de Trailles looked at me with civil insult in his expression, and made as if he would take his leave. “‘I am ready to go with you,’ said I. “When we reached the Rue de Gres, my dandy looked about him with a circumspection and uneasiness that set me wondering. His face grew livid, flushed, and yellow, turn and turn about, and by the time that Gobseck’s door came in sight the perspiration stood in drops on his forehead. We were just getting out of the cabriolet, when a hackney cab turned into the street. My companion’s hawk eye detected a woman in the depths of the vehicle. His face lighted up with a gleam of almost savage joy; he called to a little boy who was passing, and gave him his horse to hold. Then we went up to the old bill discounter. “‘M. Gobseck,’ said I, ‘I have brought one of my most intimate friends to see you (whom I trust as I would trust the Devil,’ I added for the old man’s private ear). ‘To oblige me you will do your best for him (at the ordinary rate), and pull him out of his difficulty (if it suits your convenience).’ “M. de Trailles made his bow to Gobseck, took a seat, and listened to us with a courtier-like attitude; its charming humility would have touched your heart to see, but my Gobseck sits in his chair by the fireside without moving a muscle, or changing a feature. He looked very like the statue of Voltaire under the peristyle of the Theatre-Francais, as you see it of an evening; he had partly risen as if to bow, and the skull cap that covered the top of his head, and the narrow strip of sallow forehead exhibited, completed his likeness to the man of marble. “‘I have no money to spare except for my own clients,’ said he. “‘So you are cross because I may have tried in other quarters to ruin myself?’ laughed the Count. “‘Ruin yourself!’ repeated Gobseck ironically. “‘Were you about to remark that it is impossible to ruin a man who has nothing?’ inquired the dandy. ‘Why, I defy you to find a better stock in Paris!’ he cried, swinging round on his heels. “This half-earnest buffoonery produced not the slightest effect upon Gobseck. “‘Am I not on intimate terms with the Ronquerolles, the Marsays, the Franchessinis, the two Vandenesses, the Ajuda-Pintos,—all the most fashionable young men in Paris, in short? A prince and an ambassador (you know them both) are my partners at play. I draw my revenues from London and Carlsbad and Baden and Bath. Is not this the most brilliant of all industries!’ “‘True.’ “‘You make a sponge of me, begad! you do. You encourage me to go and swell myself out in society, so that you can squeeze me when I am hard up; but you yourselves are sponges, just as I am, and death will give you a squeeze some day.’ “‘That is possible.’ “‘If there were no spendthrifts, what would become of you? The pair of us are like soul and body.’ “‘Precisely so.’ “‘Come, now, give us your hand, Grandaddy Gobseck, and be magnanimous if this is “true” and “possible” and “precisely so.”’ “‘You come to me,’ the usurer answered coldly, ‘because Girard, Palma, Werbrust, and Gigonnet are full up of your paper; they are offering it at a loss of fifty per cent; and as it is likely they only gave you half the figure on the face of the bills, they are not worth five-and-twenty per cent of their supposed value. I am your most obedient! Can I in common decency lend a stiver to a man who owes thirty thousand francs, and has not one farthing?’ Gobseck continued. ‘The day before yesterday you lost ten thousand francs at a ball at the Baron de Nucingen’s.’ “‘Sir,’ said the Count, with rare impudence, ‘my affairs are no concern of yours,’ and he looked the old man up and down. ‘A man has no debts till payment is due.’ “‘True.’ “‘My bills will be duly met.’ “‘That is possible.’ “‘And at this moment the question between you and me is simply whether the security I am going to offer is sufficient for the sum I have come to borrow.’ “‘Precisely.’ “A cab stopped at the door, and the sound of wheels filled the room. “‘I will bring something directly which perhaps will satisfy you,’ cried the young man, and he left the room. “‘Oh! my son,’ exclaimed Gobseck, rising to his feet, and stretching out his arms to me, ‘if he has good security, you have saved my life. It would be the death of me. Werbrust and Gigonnet imagined that they were going to play off a trick on me; and now, thanks to you, I shall have a good laugh at their expense to-night.’ “There was something frightful about the old man’s ecstasy. It was the one occasion when he opened his heart to me; and that flash of joy, swift though it was, will never be effaced from my memory. “‘Favor me so far as to stay here,’ he added. ‘I am armed, and a sure shot. I have gone tiger-hunting, and fought on the deck when there was nothing for it but to win or die; but I don’t care to trust yonder elegant scoundrel.’ “He sat down again in his armchair before his bureau, and his face grew pale and impassive as before. “‘Ah!’ he continued, turning to me, ‘you will see that lovely creature I once told you about; I can hear a fine lady’s step in the corridor; it is she, no doubt;’ and, as a matter of fact, the young man came in with a woman on his arm. I recognized the Countess, whose levee Gobseck had described for me, one of old Goriot’s two daughters. “The Countess did not see me at first; I stayed where I was in the window bay, with my face against the pane; but I saw her give Maxime a suspicious glance as she came into the money-lender’s damp, dark room. So beautiful she was, that in spite of her faults I felt sorry for her. There was a terrible storm of anguish in her heart; her haughty, proud features were drawn and distorted with pain which she strove in vain to disguise. The young man had come to be her evil genius. I admired Gobseck, whose perspicacity had foreseen their future four years ago at the first bill which she endorsed. “‘Probably,’ said I to myself, ‘this monster with the angel face controls every possible spring of action in her: rules her through vanity, jealousy, pleasure, and the current of life in the world.’” The Vicomtesse de Grandlieu broke in on the story. “Why, the woman’s very virtues have been turned against her,” she exclaimed. “He has made her shed tears of devotion, and then abused her kindness and made her pay very dearly for unhallowed bliss.” Derville did not understand the signs which Mme. de Grandlieu made to him. “I confess,” he said, “that I had no inclination to shed tears over the lot of this unhappy creature, so brilliant in society, so repulsive to eyes that could read her heart; I shuddered rather at the sight of her murderer, a young angel with such a clear brow, such red lips and white teeth, such a winning smile. There they stood before their judge, he scrutinizing them much as some fifteenth-century Dominican inquisitor might have peered into the dungeons of the Holy Office while the torture was administered to two Moors. “The Countess spoke tremulously. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘is there any way of obtaining the value of these diamonds, and of keeping the right of repurchase?’ She held out a jewel-case. “‘Yes, madame,’ I put in, and came forwards. “She looked at me, and a shudder ran through her as she recognized me, and gave me the glance which means, ‘Say nothing of this,’ all the world over. “‘This,’ said I, ‘constitutes a sale with faculty of redemption, as it is called, a formal agreement to transfer and deliver over a piece of property, either real estate or personalty, for a given time, on the expiry of which the previous owner recovers his title to the property in question, upon payment of a stipulated sum.’ “She breathed more freely. The Count looked black; he had grave doubts whether Gobseck would lend very much on the diamonds after such a fall in their value. Gobseck, impassive as ever, had taken up his magnifying glass, and was quietly scrutinizing the jewels. If I were to live for a hundred years, I should never forget the sight of his face at that moment. There was a flush in his pale cheeks; his eyes seemed to have caught the sparkle of the stones, for there was an unnatural glitter in them. He rose and went to the light, holding the diamonds close to his toothless mouth, as if he meant to devour them; mumbling vague words over them, holding up bracelets, sprays, necklaces, and tiaras one after another, to judge their water, whiteness, and cutting; taking them out of the jewel-case and putting them in again, letting the play of the light bring out all their fires. He was more like a child than an old man; or, rather, childhood and dotage seemed to meet in him. “‘Fine stones! The set would have fetched three hundred thousand francs before the Revolution. What water! Genuine Asiatic diamonds from Golconda or Visapur. Do you know what they are worth? No, no; no one in Paris but Gobseck can appreciate them. In the time of the Empire such a set would have cost another two hundred thousand francs!’ “He gave a disgusted shrug, and added: “‘But now diamonds are going down in value every day. The Brazilians have swamped the market with them since the Peace; but the Indian stones are a better color. Others wear them now besides court ladies. Does madame go to court?’ “While he flung out these terrible words, he examined one stone after another with delight which no words can describe. “‘Flawless!’ he said. ‘Here is a speck!... here is a flaw!... A fine stone that!’ “His haggard face was so lighted up by the sparkling jewels, that it put me in mind of a dingy old mirror, such as you see in country inns. The glass receives every luminous image without reflecting the light, and a traveler bold enough to look for his face in it beholds a man in an apoplectic fit. “‘Well?’ asked the Count, clapping Gobseck on the shoulder. “The old boy trembled. He put down his playthings on his bureau, took his seat, and was a money-lender once more—hard, cold, and polished as a marble column. “‘How much do you want?’ “‘One hundred thousand francs for three years,’ said the Count. “‘That is possible,’ said Gobseck, and then from a mahogany box (Gobseck’s jewel-case) he drew out a faultlessly adjusted pair of scales! “He weighed the diamonds, calculating the value of stones and setting at sight (Heaven knows how!), delight and severity struggling in the expression of his face the meanwhile. The Countess had plunged in a kind of stupor; to me, watching her, it seemed that she was fathoming the depths of the abyss into which she had fallen. There was remorse still left in that woman’s soul. Perhaps a hand held out in human charity might save her. I would try. “‘Are the diamonds your personal property, madame?’ I asked in a clear voice. “‘Yes, monsieur,’ she said, looking at me with proud eyes. “‘Make out the deed of purchase with power of redemption, chatterbox,’ said Gobseck to me, resigning his chair at the bureau in my favor. “‘Madame is without doubt a married woman?’ I tried again. “She nodded abruptly. “‘Then I will not draw up the deed,’ said I. “‘And why not?’ asked Gobseck. “‘Why not?’ echoed I, as I drew the old man into the bay window so as to speak aside with him. ‘Why not? This woman is under her husband’s control; the agreement would be void in law; you could not possibly assert your ignorance of a fact recorded on the very face of the document itself. You would be compelled at once to produce the diamonds deposited with you, according to the weight, value, and cutting therein described.’ “Gobseck cut me short with a nod, and turned towards the guilty couple. “‘He is right!’ he said. ‘That puts the whole thing in a different light. Eighty thousand francs down, and you leave the diamonds with me,’ he added, in the husky, flute-like voice. ‘In the way of property, possession is as good as a title.’ “‘But——’ objected the young man. “‘You can take it or leave it,’ continued Gobseck, returning the jewel-case to the lady as he spoke. “‘I have too many risks to run.’ “‘It would be better to throw yourself at your husband’s feet,’ I bent to whisper in her ear. “The usurer doubtless knew what I was saying from the movement of my lips. He gave me a cool glance. The Count’s face grew livid. The Countess was visibly wavering. Maxime stepped up to her, and, low as he spoke, I could catch the words: “‘Adieu, dear Anastasie, may you be happy! As for me, by to-morrow my troubles will be over.’ “‘Sir!’ cried the lady, turning to Gobseck. ‘I accept your offer.’ “‘Come, now,’ returned Gobseck. ‘You have been a long time in coming to it, my fair lady.’ “He wrote out a cheque for fifty thousand francs on the Bank of France, and handed it to the Countess. “‘Now,’ continued he with a smile, such a smile as you will see in portraits of M. Voltaire, ‘now I will give you the rest of the amount in bills, thirty thousand francs’ worth of paper as good as bullion. This gentleman here has just said, “My bills will be met when they are due,”’ added he, producing certain drafts bearing the Count’s signature, all protested the day before at the request of some of the confraternity, who had probably made them over to him (Gobseck) at a considerably reduced figure. “The young man growled out something, in which the words ‘Old scoundrel!’ were audible. Daddy Gobseck did not move an eyebrow. He drew a pair of pistols out of a pigeon-hole, remarking coolly: “‘As the insulted man, I fire first.’ “‘Maxime, you owe this gentleman an explanation,’ cried the trembling Countess in a low voice. “‘I had no intention of giving offence,’ stammered Maxime. “‘I am quite sure of that,’ Gobseck answered calmly; ‘you had no intention of meeting your bills, that was all.’ “The Countess rose, bowed, and vanished, with a great dread gnawing her, I doubt not. M. de Trailles was bound to follow, but before he went he managed to say: “‘If either of you gentlemen should forget himself, I will have his blood, or he will have mine.’ “‘Amen!’ called Daddy Gobseck as he put his pistols back in their place; ‘but a man must have blood in his veins though before he can risk it, my son, and you have nothing but mud in yours.’ “When the door was closed, and the two vehicles had gone, Gobseck rose to his feet and began to prance about. “‘I have the diamonds! I have the diamonds!’ he cried again and again, ‘the beautiful diamonds! such diamonds! and tolerably cheaply. Aha! aha! Werbrust and Gigonnet, you thought you had old Papa Gobseck! Ego sum papa! I am master of the lot of you! Paid! paid, principal and interest! How silly they will look to-night when I shall come out with this story between two games of dominoes!’ “The dark glee, the savage ferocity aroused by the possession of a few water-white pebbles, set me shuddering. I was dumb with amazement. “‘Aha! There you are, my boy!’ said he. ‘We will dine together. We will have some fun at your place, for I haven’t a home of my own, and these restaurants, with their broths, and sauces, and wines, would poison the Devil himself.’ “Something in my face suddenly brought back the usual cold, impassive expression to his. “‘You don’t understand it,’ he said, and sitting down by the hearth, he put a tin saucepan full of milk on the brazier.—‘Will you breakfast with me?’ continued he. ‘Perhaps there will be enough here for two.’ “‘Thanks,’ said I, ‘I do not breakfast till noon.’ “I had scarcely spoken before hurried footsteps sounded from the passage. The stranger stopped at Gobseck’s door and rapped; there was that in the knock which suggested a man transported with rage. Gobseck reconnoitred him through the grating; then he opened the door, and in came a man of thirty-five or so, judged harmless apparently in spite of his anger. The newcomer, who was quite plainly dressed, bore a strong resemblance to the late Duc de Richelieu. You must often have met him, he was the Countess’ husband, a man with the aristocratic figure (permit the expression to pass) peculiar to statesmen of your faubourg. “‘Sir,’ said this person, addressing himself to Gobseck, who had quite recovered his tranquillity, ‘did my wife go out of this house just now?’ “‘That is possible.’ “‘Well, sir? do you not take my meaning?’ “‘I have not the honor of the acquaintance of my lady your wife,’ returned Gobseck. ‘I have had a good many visitors this morning, women and men, and mannish young ladies, and young gentlemen who look like young ladies. I should find it very hard to say——’ “‘A truce to jesting, sir! I mean the woman who has this moment gone out from you.’ “‘How can I know whether she is your wife or not? I never had the pleasure of seeing you before.’ “‘You are mistaken, M. Gobseck,’ said the Count, with profound irony in his voice. ‘We have met before, one morning in my wife’s bedroom. You had come to demand payment for a bill—no bill of hers.’ “‘It was no business of mine to inquire what value she had received for it,’ said Gobseck, with a malignant look at the Count. ‘I had come by the bill in the way of business. At the same time, monsieur,’ continued Gobseck, quietly pouring coffee into his bowl of milk, without a trace of excitement or hurry in his voice, ‘you will permit me to observe that your right to enter my house and expostulate with me is far from proven to my mind. I came of age in the sixty-first year of the preceding century.’ “‘Sir,’ said the Count, ‘you have just bought family diamonds, which do not belong to my wife, for a mere trifle.’ “‘Without feeling it incumbent upon me to tell you my private affairs, I will tell you this much M. le Comte—if Mme. la Comtesse has taken your diamonds, you should have sent a circular around to all the jewelers, giving them notice not to buy them; she might have sold them separately.’ “‘You know my wife, sir!’ roared the Count. “‘True.’ “‘She is in her husband’s power.’ “‘That is possible.’ “‘She had no right to dispose of those diamonds——’ “‘Precisely.’ “‘Very well, sir?’ “‘Very well, sir. I knew your wife, and she is in her husband’s power; I am quite willing, she is in the power of a good many people; but—I—do—not—know—your diamonds. If Mme. la Comtesse can put her name to a bill, she can go into business, of course, and buy and sell diamonds on her own account. The thing is plain on the face of it!’ “‘Good-day, sir!’ cried the Count, now white with rage. ‘There are courts of justice.’ “‘Quite so.’ “‘This gentleman here,’ he added, indicating me, ‘was a witness of the sale.’ “‘That is possible.’ “The Count turned to go. Feeling the gravity of the affair, I suddenly put in between the two belligerents. “‘M. le Comte,’ said I, ‘you are right, and M. Gobseck is by no means in the wrong. You could not prosecute the purchaser without bringing your wife into court, and the whole of the odium would not fall on her. I am an attorney, and I owe it to myself, and still more to my professional position, to declare that the diamonds of which you speak were purchased by M. Gobseck in my presence; but, in my opinion, it would be unwise to dispute the legality of the sale, especially as the goods are not readily recognizable. In equity our contention would lie, in law it would collapse. M. Gobseck is too honest a man to deny that the sale was a profitable transaction, more especially as my conscience, no less than my duty, compels me to make the admission. But once bring the case into a court of law, M. le Comte, the issue would be doubtful. My advice to you is to come to terms with M. Gobseck, who can plead that he bought the diamonds in all good faith; you would be bound in any case to return the purchase money. Consent to an arrangement, with power to redeem at the end of seven or eight months, or a year even, or any convenient lapse of time, for the repayment of the sum borrowed by Mme. la Comtesse, unless you would prefer to repurchase them outright and give security for repayment.’ “Gobseck dipped his bread into the bowl of coffee, and ate with perfect indifference; but at the words ‘come to terms,’ he looked at me as who should say, ‘A fine fellow that! he has learned something from my lessons!’ And I, for my part, riposted with a glance, which he understood uncommonly well. The business was dubious and shady; there was pressing need of coming to terms. Gobseck could not deny all knowledge of it, for I should appear as a witness. The Count thanked me with a smile of good-will. “In the debate which followed, Gobseck showed greed enough and skill enough to baffle a whole congress of diplomatists; but in the end I drew up an instrument, in which the Count acknowledged the receipt of eighty-five thousand francs, interest included, in consideration of which Gobseck undertook to return the diamonds to the Count. “‘What waste!’ exclaimed he as he put his signature to the agreement. ‘How is it possible to bridge such a gulf?’ “‘Have you many children, sir?’ Gobseck asked gravely. “The Count winced at the question; it was as if the old money-lender, like an experienced physician, had put his finger at once on the sore spot. The Comtesse’s husband did not reply. “‘Well,’ said Gobseck, taking the pained silence for answer, ‘I know your story by heart. The woman is a fiend, but perhaps you love her still; I can well believe it; she made an impression on me. Perhaps, too, you would rather save your fortune, and keep it for one or two of your children? Well, fling yourself into the whirlpool of society, lose that fortune at play, come to Gobseck pretty often. The world will say that I am a Jew, a Tartar, a usurer, a pirate, will say that I have ruined you! I snap my fingers at them! If anybody insults me, I lay my man out; nobody is a surer shot nor handles a rapier better than your servant. And every one knows it. Then, have a friend—if you can find one—and make over your property to him by a fictitious sale. You call that a fidei commissum, don’t you?’ he asked, turning to me. “The Count seemed to be entirely absorbed in his own thoughts. “‘You shall have your money to-morrow,’ he said, ‘have the diamonds in readiness,’ and he went. “‘There goes one who looks to me to be as stupid as an honest man,’ Gobseck said coolly when the Count had gone. “‘Say rather stupid as a man of passionate nature.’ “‘The Count owes you your fee for drawing up the agreement!’ Gobseck called after me as I took my leave.” “One morning, a few days after the scene which initiated me into the terrible depths beneath the surface of the life of a woman of fashion, the Count came into my private office. “‘I have come to consult you on a matter of grave moment,’ he said, ‘and I begin by telling you that I have perfect confidence in you, as I hope to prove to you. Your behavior to Mme. de Grandlieu is above all praise,’ the Count went on. (You see, madame, that you have paid me a thousand times over for a very simple matter.) “I bowed respectfully, and replied that I had done nothing but the duty of an honest man. “‘Well,’ the Count went on, ‘I have made a great many inquiries about the singular personage to whom you owe your position. And from all that I can learn, Gobseck is a philosopher of the Cynic school. What do you think of his probity?’ “‘M. le Comte,’ said I, ‘Gobseck is my benefactor—at fifteen per cent,’ I added, laughing. ‘But his avarice does not authorize me to paint him to the life for a stranger’s benefit.’ “‘Speak out, sir. Your frankness cannot injure Gobseck or yourself. I do not expect to find an angel in a pawnbroker.’ “‘Daddy Gobseck,’ I began, ‘is intimately convinced of the truth of the principle which he takes for a rule of life. In his opinion, money is a commodity which you may sell cheap or dear, according to circumstances, with a clear conscience. A capitalist, by charging a high rate of interest, becomes in his eyes a secured partner by anticipation. Apart from the peculiar philosophical views of human nature and financial principles, which enable him to behave like a usurer, I am fully persuaded that, out of his business, he is the most loyal and upright soul in Paris. There are two men in him; he is petty and great—a miser and a philosopher. If I were to die and leave a family behind me, he would be the guardian whom I should appoint. This was how I came to see Gobseck in this light, monsieur. I know nothing of his past life. He may have been a pirate, may, for anything I know, have been all over the world, trafficking in diamonds, or men, or women, or State secrets; but this I affirm of him—never has human soul been more thoroughly tempered and tried. When I paid off my loan, I asked him, with a little circumlocution of course, how it was that he had made me pay such an exorbitant rate of interest; and why, seeing that I was a friend, and he meant to do me a kindness, he should not have yielded to the wish and made it complete.—“My son,” he said, “I released you from all need to feel any gratitude by giving you ground for the belief that you owed me nothing.”—So we are the best friends in the world. That answer, monsieur, gives you the man better than any amount of description.’ “‘I have made up my mind once and for all,’ said the Count. ‘Draw up the necessary papers; I am going to transfer my property to Gobseck. I have no one but you to trust to in the draft of the counter-deed, which will declare that this transfer is a simulated sale, and that Gobseck as trustee will administer my estate (as he knows how to administer), and undertakes to make over my fortune to my eldest son when he comes of age. Now, sir, this I must tell you: I should be afraid to have that precious document in my own keeping. My boy is so fond of his mother, that I cannot trust him with it. So dare I beg of you to keep it for me? In case of death, Gobseck would make you legatee of my property. Every contingency is provided for.’ “The Count paused for a moment. He seemed greatly agitated. “‘A thousand pardons,’ he said at length; ‘I am in great pain, and have very grave misgivings as to my health. Recent troubles have disturbed me very painfully, and forced me to take this great step.’ “‘Allow me first to thank you, monsieur,’ said I, ‘for the trust you place me in. But I am bound to deserve it by pointing out to you that you are disinheriting your—other children. They bear your name. Merely as the children of a once-loved wife, now fallen from her position, they have a claim to an assured existence. I tell you plainly that I cannot accept the trust with which you propose to honor me unless their future is secured.’ “The Count trembled violently at the words, and tears came into his eyes as he grasped my hand, saying, ‘I did not know my man thoroughly. You have made me both glad and sorry. We will make provision for the children in the counter-deed.’ “I went with him to the door; it seemed to me that there was a glow of satisfaction in his face at the thought of this act of justice. “Now, Camille, this is how a young wife takes the first step to the brink of a precipice. A quadrille, a ballad, a picnic party is sometimes cause sufficient of frightful evils. You are hurried on by the presumptuous voice of vanity and pride, on the faith of a smile, or through giddiness and folly! Shame and misery and remorse are three Furies awaiting every woman the moment she oversteps the limits——” “Poor Camille can hardly keep awake,” the Vicomtesse hastily broke in.—“Go to bed, child; you have no need of appalling pictures to keep you pure in heart and conduct.” Camille de Grandlieu took the hint and went. “You were going rather too far, dear M. Derville,” said the Vicomtesse, “an attorney is not a mother of daughters nor yet a preacher.” “But any newspaper is a thousand times——” “Poor Derville!” exclaimed the Vicomtesse, “what has come over you? Do you really imagine that I allow a daughter of mine to read the newspapers?—Go on,” she added after a pause. “Three months after everything was signed and sealed between the Count and Gobseck——” “You can call him the Comte de Restaud, now that Camille is not here,” said the Vicomtesse. “So be it! Well, time went by, and I saw nothing of the counter-deed, which by rights should have been in my hands. An attorney in Paris lives in such a whirl of business that with certain exceptions which we make for ourselves, we have not the time to give each individual client the amount of interest which he himself takes in his affairs. Still, one day when Gobseck came to dine with me, I asked him as we left the table if he knew how it was that I had heard no more of M. de Restaud. “‘There are excellent reasons for that,’ he said; ‘the noble Count is at death’s door. He is one of the soft stamp that cannot learn how to put an end to chagrin, and allow it to wear them out instead. Life is a craft, a profession; every man must take the trouble to learn that business. When he has learned what life is by dint of painful experiences, the fibre of him is toughened, and acquires a certain elasticity, so that he has his sensibilities under his own control; he disciplines himself till his nerves are like steel springs, which always bend, but never break; given a sound digestion, and a man in such training ought to live as long as the cedars of Lebanon, and famous trees they are.’ “‘Then is the Count actually dying?’ I asked. “‘That is possible,’ said Gobseck; ‘the winding up of his estate will be a juicy bit of business for you.’ “I looked at my man, and said, by way of sounding him: “‘Just explain to me how it is that we, the Count and I, are the only men in whom you take an interest?’ “‘Because you are the only two who have trusted me without finessing,’ he said. “Although this answer warranted my belief that Gobseck would act fairly even if the counter-deed were lost, I resolved to go to see the Count. I pleaded a business engagement, and we separated. “I went straight to the Rue du Helder, and was shown into a room where the Countess sat playing with her children. When she heard my name, she sprang up and came to meet me, then she sat down and pointed without a word to a chair by the fire. Her face wore the inscrutable mask beneath which women of the world conceal their most vehement emotions. Trouble had withered that face already. Nothing of its beauty now remained, save the marvelous outlines in which its principal charm had lain. “‘It is essential, madame, that I should speak to M. le Comte——” “‘If so, you would be more favored than I am,’ she said, interrupting me. ‘M. de Restaud will see no one. He will hardly allow his doctor to come, and will not be nursed even by me. When people are ill, they have such strange fancies! They are like children, they do not know what they want.’ “‘Perhaps, like children, they know very well what they want.’ “The Countess reddened. I almost repented a thrust worthy of Gobseck. So, by way of changing the conversation, I added, ‘But M. de Restaud cannot possibly lie there alone all day, madame.’ “‘His oldest boy is with him,’ she said. “It was useless to gaze at the Countess; she did not blush this time, and it looked to me as if she were resolved more firmly than ever that I should not penetrate into her secrets. “‘You must understand, madame, that my proceeding is no way indiscreet. It is strongly to his interest—’ I bit my lips, feeling that I had gone the wrong way to work. The Countess immediately took advantage of my slip. “‘My interests are in no way separate from my husband’s, sir,’ said she. ‘There is nothing to prevent your addressing yourself to me——’ “‘The business which brings me here concerns no one but M. le Comte,’ I said firmly. “‘I will let him know of your wish to see him.’ “The civil tone and expression assumed for the occasion did not impose upon me; I divined that she would never allow me to see her husband. I chatted on about indifferent matters for a little while, so as to study her; but, like all women who have once begun to plot for themselves, she could dissimulate with the rare perfection which, in your sex, means the last degree of perfidy. If I may dare to say it, I looked for anything from her, even a crime. She produced this feeling in me, because it was so evident from her manner and in all that she did or said, down to the very inflections of her voice, that she had an eye to the future. I went. “Now, I will pass on to the final scenes of this adventure, throwing in a few circumstances brought to light by time, and some details guessed by Gobseck’s perspicacity or by my own. “When the Comte de Restaud apparently plunged into the vortex of dissipation, something passed between the husband and wife, something which remains an impenetrable secret, but the wife sank even lower in the husband’s eyes. As soon as he became so ill that he was obliged to take to his bed, he manifested his aversion for the Countess and the two youngest children. He forbade them to enter his room, and any attempt to disobey his wishes brought on such dangerous attacks that the doctor implored the Countess to submit to her husband’s wish. “Mme. de Restaud had seen the family estates and property, nay, the very mansion in which she lived, pass into the hands of Gobseck, who appeared to play the fantastic ogre so far as their wealth was concerned. She partially understood what her husband was doing, no doubt. M. de Trailles was traveling in England (his creditors had been a little too pressing of late), and no one else was in a position to enlighten the lady, and explain that her husband was taking precautions against her at Gobseck’s suggestion. It is said that she held out for a long while before she gave the signature required by French law for the sale of the property; nevertheless the Count gained his point. The Countess was convinced that her husband was realizing his fortune, and that somewhere or other there would be a little bunch of notes representing the amount; they had been deposited with a notary, or perhaps at the bank, or in some safe hiding-place. Following out her train of thought, it was evident that M. de Restaud must of necessity have some kind of document in his possession by which any remaining property could be recovered and handed over to his son. “So she made up her mind to keep the strictest possible watch over the sick-room. She ruled despotically in the house, and everything in it was submitted to this feminine espionage. All day she sat in the salon adjoining her husband’s room, so that she could hear every syllable that he uttered, every least movement that he made. She had a bed put there for her of a night, but she did not sleep very much. The doctor was entirely in her interests. Such wifely devotion seemed praiseworthy enough. With the natural subtlety of perfidy, she took care to disguise M. de Restaud’s repugnance for her, and feigned distress so perfectly that she gained a sort of celebrity. Strait-laced women were even found to say that she had expiated her sins. Always before her eyes she beheld a vision of the destitution to follow on the Count’s death if her presence of mind should fail her; and in these ways the wife, repulsed from the bed of pain on which her husband lay and groaned, had drawn a charmed circle round about it. So near, yet kept at a distance; all-powerful, but in disgrace, the apparently devoted wife was lying in wait for death and opportunity; crouching like the ant-lion at the bottom of his spiral pit, ever on the watch for the prey that cannot escape, listening to the fall of every grain of sand. “The strictest censor could not but recognize that the Countess pushed maternal sentiment to the last degree. Her father’s death had been a lesson to her, people said. She worshiped her children. They were so young that she could hide the disorders of her life from their eyes, and could win their love; she had given them the best and most brilliant education. I confess that I cannot help admiring her and feeling sorry for her. Gobseck used to joke me about it. Just about that time she had discovered Maxime’s baseness, and was expiating the sins of the past in tears of blood. I was sure of it. Hateful as were the measures which she took for regaining control of her husband’s money, were they not the result of a mother’s love, and a desire to repair the wrongs she had done her children? And again, it may be, like many a woman who has experienced the storm of lawless love, she felt a longing to lead a virtuous life again. Perhaps she only learned the worth of that life when she came to reap the woeful harvest sown by her errors. “Every time that little Ernest came out of his father’s room, she put him through a searching examination as to all that his father had done or said. The boy willingly complied with his mother’s wishes, and told her even more than she asked in her anxious affection, as he thought. “My visit was a ray of light for the Countess. She was determined to see in me the instrument of the Count’s vengeance, and resolved that I should not be allowed to go near the dying man. I augured ill of all this, and earnestly wished for an interview, for I was not easy in my mind about the fate of the counter-deed. If it should fall into the Countess’ hands, she might turn it to her own account, and that would be the beginning of a series of interminable lawsuits between her and Gobseck. I knew the usurer well enough to feel convinced that he would never give up the property to her; there was room for plenty of legal quibbling over a series of transfers, and I alone knew all the ins and outs of the matter. I was minded to prevent such a tissue of misfortune, so I went to the Countess a second time. “I have noticed, madame,” said Derville, turning to the Vicomtesse, and speaking in a confidential tone, “certain moral phenomena to which we do not pay enough attention. I am naturally an observer of human nature, and instinctively I bring a spirit of analysis to the business that I transact in the interest of others, when human passions are called into lively play. Now, I have often noticed, and always with new wonder, that two antagonists almost always divine each other’s inmost thoughts and ideas. Two enemies sometimes possess a power of clear insight into mental processes, and read each other’s minds as two lovers read in either soul. So when we came together, the Countess and I, I understood at once the reason of her antipathy for me, disguised though it was by the most gracious forms of politeness and civility. I had been forced to be her confidant, and a woman cannot but hate the man before whom she is compelled to blush. And she on her side knew that if I was the man in whom her husband placed confidence, that husband had not as yet given up his fortune. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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