A Start in Life [85]
"Faith! if it hadn't been for your
voice I should never have known you."
"Ah! it was monsieur who so bravely rescued the Vicomte Jules de
Serizy from the Arabs?" said Reybert, "and for whom the count has
obtained the collectorship of Beaumont while awaiting that of
Pontoise?"
"Yes, monsieur," said Oscar.
"I hope you will give me the pleasure, monsieur," said the great
painter, "of being present at my marriage at Isle-Adam."
"Whom do you marry?" asked Oscar, after accepting the invitation.
"Mademoiselle Leger," replied Joseph Bridau, "the granddaughter of
Monsieur de Reybert. Monsieur le comte was kind enough to arrange the
marriage for me. As an artist I owe him a great deal, and he wished,
before his death, to secure my future, about which I did not think,
myself."
"Whom did Pere Leger marry?" asked Georges.
"My daughter," replied Monsieur de Reybert, "and without a 'dot.'"
"Ah!" said Georges, assuming a more respectful manner toward Monsieur
Leger, "I am fortunate in having chosen this particular day to do the
valley of the Oise. You can all be useful to me, gentlemen."
"How so?" asked Monsieur Leger.
"In this way," replied Georges. "I am employed by the 'Esperance,' a
company just formed, the statutes of which have been approved by an
ordinance of the King. This institution gives, at the end of ten
years, dowries to young girls, annuities to old men; it pays the
education of children, and takes charge, in short, of the fortunes of
everybody."
"I can well believe it," said Pere Leger, smiling. "In a word, you are
a runner for an insurance company."
"No, monsieur. I am the inspector-general; charged with the duty of
establishing correspondents and appointing the agents of the company
throughout France. I am only operating until the agents are selected;
for it is a matter as delicate as it is difficult to find honest
agents."
"But how did you lose your thirty thousand a year?" asked Oscar.
"As you lost your arm," replied the son of Czerni-Georges, curtly.
"Then you must have shared in some brilliant action," remarked Oscar,
with a sarcasm not unmixed with bitterness.
"Parbleu! I've too many--shares! that's just what I wanted to sell."
By this time they had arrived at Saint-Leu-Taverny, where all the
passengers got out while the coach changed horses. Oscar admired the
liveliness which Pierrotin displayed in unhooking the traces from the
whiffle-trees, while his driver cleared the reins from the leaders.
"Poor Pierrotin," thought he; "he has stuck like me,--not far advanced
in the world. Georges has fallen low. All the others, thanks to
speculation and to talent, have made their fortune. Do we breakfast
here, Pierrotin?" he said, aloud, slapping that worthy on the
shoulder.
"I am not the driver," said Pierrotin.
"What are you, then?" asked Colonel Husson.
"The proprietor," replied Pierrotin.
"Come, don't be vexed with an old acquaintance," said Oscar, motioning
to his mother, but still retaining his patronizing manner. "Don't you
recognize Madame Clapart?"
It was all the nobler of Oscar to present his mother to Pierrotin,
because, at that moment, Madame Moreau de l'Oise, getting out of the
coupe, overheard the name, and stared disdainfully at Oscar and his
mother.
"My faith! madame," said Pierrotin, "I should never have known you;
nor you, either, monsieur; the sun burns black in Africa, doesn't it?"
The species of pity which Oscar thus felt for Pierrotin was the last
blunder that vanity ever led our hero to commit, and, like his other
faults, it was punished, but very gently, thus:--
Two months after his official installation at Beaumont-sur-Oise, Oscar
was paying his addresses to Mademoiselle Georgette Pierrotin, whose
'dot' amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand francs, and he
married the pretty daughter of the proprietor
voice I should never have known you."
"Ah! it was monsieur who so bravely rescued the Vicomte Jules de
Serizy from the Arabs?" said Reybert, "and for whom the count has
obtained the collectorship of Beaumont while awaiting that of
Pontoise?"
"Yes, monsieur," said Oscar.
"I hope you will give me the pleasure, monsieur," said the great
painter, "of being present at my marriage at Isle-Adam."
"Whom do you marry?" asked Oscar, after accepting the invitation.
"Mademoiselle Leger," replied Joseph Bridau, "the granddaughter of
Monsieur de Reybert. Monsieur le comte was kind enough to arrange the
marriage for me. As an artist I owe him a great deal, and he wished,
before his death, to secure my future, about which I did not think,
myself."
"Whom did Pere Leger marry?" asked Georges.
"My daughter," replied Monsieur de Reybert, "and without a 'dot.'"
"Ah!" said Georges, assuming a more respectful manner toward Monsieur
Leger, "I am fortunate in having chosen this particular day to do the
valley of the Oise. You can all be useful to me, gentlemen."
"How so?" asked Monsieur Leger.
"In this way," replied Georges. "I am employed by the 'Esperance,' a
company just formed, the statutes of which have been approved by an
ordinance of the King. This institution gives, at the end of ten
years, dowries to young girls, annuities to old men; it pays the
education of children, and takes charge, in short, of the fortunes of
everybody."
"I can well believe it," said Pere Leger, smiling. "In a word, you are
a runner for an insurance company."
"No, monsieur. I am the inspector-general; charged with the duty of
establishing correspondents and appointing the agents of the company
throughout France. I am only operating until the agents are selected;
for it is a matter as delicate as it is difficult to find honest
agents."
"But how did you lose your thirty thousand a year?" asked Oscar.
"As you lost your arm," replied the son of Czerni-Georges, curtly.
"Then you must have shared in some brilliant action," remarked Oscar,
with a sarcasm not unmixed with bitterness.
"Parbleu! I've too many--shares! that's just what I wanted to sell."
By this time they had arrived at Saint-Leu-Taverny, where all the
passengers got out while the coach changed horses. Oscar admired the
liveliness which Pierrotin displayed in unhooking the traces from the
whiffle-trees, while his driver cleared the reins from the leaders.
"Poor Pierrotin," thought he; "he has stuck like me,--not far advanced
in the world. Georges has fallen low. All the others, thanks to
speculation and to talent, have made their fortune. Do we breakfast
here, Pierrotin?" he said, aloud, slapping that worthy on the
shoulder.
"I am not the driver," said Pierrotin.
"What are you, then?" asked Colonel Husson.
"The proprietor," replied Pierrotin.
"Come, don't be vexed with an old acquaintance," said Oscar, motioning
to his mother, but still retaining his patronizing manner. "Don't you
recognize Madame Clapart?"
It was all the nobler of Oscar to present his mother to Pierrotin,
because, at that moment, Madame Moreau de l'Oise, getting out of the
coupe, overheard the name, and stared disdainfully at Oscar and his
mother.
"My faith! madame," said Pierrotin, "I should never have known you;
nor you, either, monsieur; the sun burns black in Africa, doesn't it?"
The species of pity which Oscar thus felt for Pierrotin was the last
blunder that vanity ever led our hero to commit, and, like his other
faults, it was punished, but very gently, thus:--
Two months after his official installation at Beaumont-sur-Oise, Oscar
was paying his addresses to Mademoiselle Georgette Pierrotin, whose
'dot' amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand francs, and he
married the pretty daughter of the proprietor