A Start in Life [79]
if he wants to continue in the law after paying,
as they say, his tax of blood. By that time, at any rate, he will have
been severely punished, he will have learned experience, and
contracted habits of subordination. Before making his probation at the
bar he will have gone through his probations in life."
"If that is your decision for a son," said Madame Clapart, "I see that
the heart of a father is not like that of a mother. My poor Oscar a
common soldier!--"
"Would you rather he flung himself headforemost into the Seine after
committing a dishonorable action? He cannot now become a solicitor; do
you think him steady and wise enough to be a barrister? No. While his
reason is maturing, what will he become? A dissipated fellow. The
discipline of the army will, at least, preserve him from that."
"Could he not go into some other office? His uncle Cardot has promised
to pay for his substitute; Oscar is to dedicate his graduating thesis
to him."
At this moment carriage-wheels were heard, and a hackney-coach
containing Oscar and all his worldly belongings stopped before the
door. The luckless young man came up at once.
"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Joli-Coeur!" cried Clapart.
Oscar kissed his mother, and held out to Moreau a hand which the
latter refused to take. To this rebuff Oscar replied by a reproachful
look, the boldness of which he had never shown before. Then he turned
on Clapart.
"Listen to me, monsieur," said the youth, transformed into a man. "You
worry my poor mother devilishly, and that's your right, for she is,
unfortunately, your wife. But as for me, it is another thing. I shall
be of age in a few months; and you have no rights over me even as a
minor. I have never asked anything of you. Thanks to Monsieur Moreau,
I have never cost you one penny, and I owe you no gratitude.
Therefore, I say, let me alone!"
Clapart, hearing this apostrophe, slunk back to his sofa in the
chimney corner. The reasoning and the inward fury of the young man,
who had just received a lecture from his friend Godeschal, silenced
the imbecile mind of the sick man.
"A momentary temptation, such as you yourself would have yielded to at
my age," said Oscar to Moreau, "has made me commit a fault which
Desroches thinks serious, though it is only a peccadillo. I am more
provoked with myself for taking Florentine of the Gaiete for a
marquise than I am for losing fifteen hundred francs after a little
debauch in which everybody, even Godeschal, was half-seas over. This
time, at any rate, I've hurt no one by myself. I'm cured of such
things forever. If you are willing to help me, Monsieur Moreau, I
swear to you that the six years I must still stay a clerk before I can
get a practice shall be spent without--"
"Stop there!" said Moreau. "I have three children, and I can make no
promises."
"Never mind, never mind," said Madame Clapart to her son, casting a
reproachful glance at Moreau. "Your uncle Cardot--"
"I have no longer an uncle Cardot," replied Oscar, who related the
scene at the rue de Vendome.
Madame Clapart, feeling her legs give way under the weight of her
body, staggered to a chair in the dining-room, where she fell as if
struck by lightning.
"All the miseries together!" she said, as she fainted.
Moreau took the poor mother in his arms, and carried her to the bed in
her chamber. Oscar remained motionless, as if crushed.
"There is nothing left for you," said Moreau, coming back to him, "but
to make yourself a soldier. That idiot of a Clapart looks to me as
though he couldn't live three months, and then your mother will be
without a penny. Ought I not, therefore, to reserve for her the little
money I am able to give? It was impossible to tell you this before
her. As a soldier, you'll eat plain bread and reflect on life such as
it is to those who are born into it without fortune."
"I may get
as they say, his tax of blood. By that time, at any rate, he will have
been severely punished, he will have learned experience, and
contracted habits of subordination. Before making his probation at the
bar he will have gone through his probations in life."
"If that is your decision for a son," said Madame Clapart, "I see that
the heart of a father is not like that of a mother. My poor Oscar a
common soldier!--"
"Would you rather he flung himself headforemost into the Seine after
committing a dishonorable action? He cannot now become a solicitor; do
you think him steady and wise enough to be a barrister? No. While his
reason is maturing, what will he become? A dissipated fellow. The
discipline of the army will, at least, preserve him from that."
"Could he not go into some other office? His uncle Cardot has promised
to pay for his substitute; Oscar is to dedicate his graduating thesis
to him."
At this moment carriage-wheels were heard, and a hackney-coach
containing Oscar and all his worldly belongings stopped before the
door. The luckless young man came up at once.
"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Joli-Coeur!" cried Clapart.
Oscar kissed his mother, and held out to Moreau a hand which the
latter refused to take. To this rebuff Oscar replied by a reproachful
look, the boldness of which he had never shown before. Then he turned
on Clapart.
"Listen to me, monsieur," said the youth, transformed into a man. "You
worry my poor mother devilishly, and that's your right, for she is,
unfortunately, your wife. But as for me, it is another thing. I shall
be of age in a few months; and you have no rights over me even as a
minor. I have never asked anything of you. Thanks to Monsieur Moreau,
I have never cost you one penny, and I owe you no gratitude.
Therefore, I say, let me alone!"
Clapart, hearing this apostrophe, slunk back to his sofa in the
chimney corner. The reasoning and the inward fury of the young man,
who had just received a lecture from his friend Godeschal, silenced
the imbecile mind of the sick man.
"A momentary temptation, such as you yourself would have yielded to at
my age," said Oscar to Moreau, "has made me commit a fault which
Desroches thinks serious, though it is only a peccadillo. I am more
provoked with myself for taking Florentine of the Gaiete for a
marquise than I am for losing fifteen hundred francs after a little
debauch in which everybody, even Godeschal, was half-seas over. This
time, at any rate, I've hurt no one by myself. I'm cured of such
things forever. If you are willing to help me, Monsieur Moreau, I
swear to you that the six years I must still stay a clerk before I can
get a practice shall be spent without--"
"Stop there!" said Moreau. "I have three children, and I can make no
promises."
"Never mind, never mind," said Madame Clapart to her son, casting a
reproachful glance at Moreau. "Your uncle Cardot--"
"I have no longer an uncle Cardot," replied Oscar, who related the
scene at the rue de Vendome.
Madame Clapart, feeling her legs give way under the weight of her
body, staggered to a chair in the dining-room, where she fell as if
struck by lightning.
"All the miseries together!" she said, as she fainted.
Moreau took the poor mother in his arms, and carried her to the bed in
her chamber. Oscar remained motionless, as if crushed.
"There is nothing left for you," said Moreau, coming back to him, "but
to make yourself a soldier. That idiot of a Clapart looks to me as
though he couldn't live three months, and then your mother will be
without a penny. Ought I not, therefore, to reserve for her the little
money I am able to give? It was impossible to tell you this before
her. As a soldier, you'll eat plain bread and reflect on life such as
it is to those who are born into it without fortune."
"I may get