A Start in Life [50]
you. Be calm, as I am.
Give no opportunity for fools to talk. Above all, let there be no
recrimination or petty meanness. Though you no longer possess my
confidence, endeavor to behave with the decorum of well-bred persons.
As for that miserable boy who has wounded me to death, I will not have
him sleep at Presles; send him to the inn; I will not answer for my
own temper if I see him."
"I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur," said Moreau, with
tears in his eyes. "Yes, you are right; if I had been utterly
dishonest I should now be worth five hundred thousand francs instead
of half that sum. I offer to give you an account of my fortune, with
all its details. But let me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking of
you with Madame Clapart, it was never in derision; but, on the
contrary, to deplore your state, and to ask her for certain remedies,
not used by physicians, but known to the common people. I spoke of
your feelings before the boy, who was in his bed and, as I supposed,
asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening to us), with
the utmost affection and respect. Alas! fate wills that indiscretions
be punished like crimes. But while accepting the results of your just
anger, I wish you to know what actually took place. It was, indeed,
from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart. As for my
wife, I have never said one word of these things--"
"Enough," said the count, whose conviction was now complete; "we are
not children. All is now irrevocable. Put your affairs and mine in
order. You can stay in the pavilion until October. Monsieur and Madame
de Reybert will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keep
on terms with them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, but
still keep up appearances."
The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count's
hair, the count himself calm and dignified.
During the time this interview lasted the Beaumont coach, which left
Paris at one o'clock, had stopped before the gates of the chateau, and
deposited Maitre Crottat, the notary, who was shown, according to the
count's orders, into the salon, where he found his clerk, extremely
subdued in manner, and the two painters, all three of them painfully
self-conscious and embarrassed. Monsieur de Reybert, a man of fifty,
with a crabbed expression of face, was also there, accompanied by old
Margueron and the notary of Beaumont, who held in his hand a bundle of
deeds and other papers.
When these various personages saw the count in evening dress, and
wearing his orders, Georges Marest had a slight sensation of colic,
Joseph Bridau quivered, but Mistigris, who was conscious of being in
his Sunday clothes, and had, moreover, nothing on his conscience,
remarked, in a sufficiently loud tone:--
"Well, he looks a great deal better like that."
"Little scamp," said the count, catching him by the ear, "we are both
in the decoration business. I hope you recognize your own work, my
dear Schinner," he added, pointing to the ceiling of the salon.
"Monseigneur," replied the artist, "I did wrong to take such a
celebrated name out of mere bravado; but this day will oblige me to do
fine things for you, and so bring credit on my own name of Joseph
Bridau."
"You took up my defence," said the count, hastily; "and I hope you
will give me the pleasure of dining with me, as well as my lively
friend Mistigris."
"Your Excellency doesn't know to what you expose yourself," said the
saucy rapin; "'facilis descensus victuali,' as we say at the Black
Hen."
"Bridau!" exclaimed the minister, struck by a sudden thought. "Are you
any relation to one of the most devoted toilers under the Empire, the
head of a bureau, who fell a victim to his zeal?"
"His son, monseigneur," replied Joseph, bowing.
"Then you are most welcome here," said the count, taking Bridau's hand
in both of his. "I knew your
Give no opportunity for fools to talk. Above all, let there be no
recrimination or petty meanness. Though you no longer possess my
confidence, endeavor to behave with the decorum of well-bred persons.
As for that miserable boy who has wounded me to death, I will not have
him sleep at Presles; send him to the inn; I will not answer for my
own temper if I see him."
"I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur," said Moreau, with
tears in his eyes. "Yes, you are right; if I had been utterly
dishonest I should now be worth five hundred thousand francs instead
of half that sum. I offer to give you an account of my fortune, with
all its details. But let me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking of
you with Madame Clapart, it was never in derision; but, on the
contrary, to deplore your state, and to ask her for certain remedies,
not used by physicians, but known to the common people. I spoke of
your feelings before the boy, who was in his bed and, as I supposed,
asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening to us), with
the utmost affection and respect. Alas! fate wills that indiscretions
be punished like crimes. But while accepting the results of your just
anger, I wish you to know what actually took place. It was, indeed,
from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart. As for my
wife, I have never said one word of these things--"
"Enough," said the count, whose conviction was now complete; "we are
not children. All is now irrevocable. Put your affairs and mine in
order. You can stay in the pavilion until October. Monsieur and Madame
de Reybert will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keep
on terms with them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, but
still keep up appearances."
The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count's
hair, the count himself calm and dignified.
During the time this interview lasted the Beaumont coach, which left
Paris at one o'clock, had stopped before the gates of the chateau, and
deposited Maitre Crottat, the notary, who was shown, according to the
count's orders, into the salon, where he found his clerk, extremely
subdued in manner, and the two painters, all three of them painfully
self-conscious and embarrassed. Monsieur de Reybert, a man of fifty,
with a crabbed expression of face, was also there, accompanied by old
Margueron and the notary of Beaumont, who held in his hand a bundle of
deeds and other papers.
When these various personages saw the count in evening dress, and
wearing his orders, Georges Marest had a slight sensation of colic,
Joseph Bridau quivered, but Mistigris, who was conscious of being in
his Sunday clothes, and had, moreover, nothing on his conscience,
remarked, in a sufficiently loud tone:--
"Well, he looks a great deal better like that."
"Little scamp," said the count, catching him by the ear, "we are both
in the decoration business. I hope you recognize your own work, my
dear Schinner," he added, pointing to the ceiling of the salon.
"Monseigneur," replied the artist, "I did wrong to take such a
celebrated name out of mere bravado; but this day will oblige me to do
fine things for you, and so bring credit on my own name of Joseph
Bridau."
"You took up my defence," said the count, hastily; "and I hope you
will give me the pleasure of dining with me, as well as my lively
friend Mistigris."
"Your Excellency doesn't know to what you expose yourself," said the
saucy rapin; "'facilis descensus victuali,' as we say at the Black
Hen."
"Bridau!" exclaimed the minister, struck by a sudden thought. "Are you
any relation to one of the most devoted toilers under the Empire, the
head of a bureau, who fell a victim to his zeal?"
"His son, monseigneur," replied Joseph, bowing.
"Then you are most welcome here," said the count, taking Bridau's hand
in both of his. "I knew your