Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau [34]
won't give way under poverty. However, I am resolved to leave my daughter mistress of herself, even if it seems a folly."
IV
Birotteau's neighbor was a small dealer in umbrellas, parasols, and canes, named Cayron,--a man from Languedoc, doing a poor business, whom Cesar had several times befriended. Cayron wished nothing better than to confine himself to the ground-floor and let the rich perfumer take the floor above it, thus diminishing his rent.
"Well, neighbor," said Birotteau familiarly, as he entered the man's shop, "my wife consents to the enlargement of our premises. If you like, we will go and see Monsieur Molineux at eleven o'clock."
"My dear Monsieur Birotteau," said the umbrella-man, "I have not asked you any compensation for this cession; but you are aware that a good merchant ought to make money out of everything."
"What the devil!" cried Birotteau. "I'm not made of money. I don't know that my architect can do the thing at all. He told me that before concluding my arrangements I must know whether the floors were on the same level. Then, supposing Monsieur Molineux does allow me to cut a door in the wall, is it a party-wall? Moreover, I have to turn my staircase, and make a new landing, so as to get a passage-way on the same floor. All that costs money, and I don't want to ruin myself."
"Oh, monsieur," said the southerner. "Before you are ruined, the sun will have married the earth and they'll have had children."
Birotteau stroked his chin, rose on the points of his toes, and fell back upon his heels.
"Besides," resumed Cayron, "all I ask you to do is to cash these securities for me--"
And he held out sixteen notes amounting in all to five thousand francs.
"Ah!" said the perfumer turning them over. "Small fry, two months, three months--"
"Take them as low as six per cent," said the umbrella-man humbly.
"Am I a usurer?" asked the perfumer reproachfully.
"What can I do, monsieur? I went to your old clerk, du Tillet, and he would not take them at any price. No doubt he wanted to find out how much I'd be willing to lose on them."
"I don't know those signatures," said the perfumer.
"We have such queer names in canes and umbrellas; they belong to the peddlers."
"Well, I won't say that I will take all; but I'll manage the short ones."
"For the want of a thousand francs--sure to be repaid in four months-- don't throw me into the hands of the blood-suckers who get the best of our profits; do take all, monsieur! I do so little in the way of discount that I have no credit; that is what kills us little retailers."
"Well, I'll cash your notes; Celestin will make out the account. Be ready at eleven, will you? There's my architect, Monsieur Grindot," said the perfumer, catching sight of the young man, with whom he had made an appointment at Monsieur de la Billardiere's the night before.
"Contrary to the custom of men of talent you are punctual, monsieur," said Cesar, displaying his finest commercial graces. "If punctuality, in the words of our king,--a man of wit as well as a statesman,--is the politeness of princes, it is also the wealth of merchants. Time, time is gold, especially to you artists. I permit myself to say to you that architecture is the union of all the arts. We will not enter through the shop," he added, opening the private door of his house.
Four years earlier Monsieur Grindot had carried off the /grand prix/ in architecture, and had lately returned from Rome where he had spent three years at the cost of the State. In Italy the young man had dreamed of art; in Paris he thought of fortune. Government alone can pay the needful millions to raise an architect to glory; it is therefore natural that every ambitious youth of that calling, returning from Rome and thinking himself a Fontaine or a Percier, should bow before the administration. The liberal student became a royalist, and sought to win the favor of influential persons. When a /grand prix/ man behaves thus, his comrades call him a trimmer. The young architect in question had two ways open to
IV
Birotteau's neighbor was a small dealer in umbrellas, parasols, and canes, named Cayron,--a man from Languedoc, doing a poor business, whom Cesar had several times befriended. Cayron wished nothing better than to confine himself to the ground-floor and let the rich perfumer take the floor above it, thus diminishing his rent.
"Well, neighbor," said Birotteau familiarly, as he entered the man's shop, "my wife consents to the enlargement of our premises. If you like, we will go and see Monsieur Molineux at eleven o'clock."
"My dear Monsieur Birotteau," said the umbrella-man, "I have not asked you any compensation for this cession; but you are aware that a good merchant ought to make money out of everything."
"What the devil!" cried Birotteau. "I'm not made of money. I don't know that my architect can do the thing at all. He told me that before concluding my arrangements I must know whether the floors were on the same level. Then, supposing Monsieur Molineux does allow me to cut a door in the wall, is it a party-wall? Moreover, I have to turn my staircase, and make a new landing, so as to get a passage-way on the same floor. All that costs money, and I don't want to ruin myself."
"Oh, monsieur," said the southerner. "Before you are ruined, the sun will have married the earth and they'll have had children."
Birotteau stroked his chin, rose on the points of his toes, and fell back upon his heels.
"Besides," resumed Cayron, "all I ask you to do is to cash these securities for me--"
And he held out sixteen notes amounting in all to five thousand francs.
"Ah!" said the perfumer turning them over. "Small fry, two months, three months--"
"Take them as low as six per cent," said the umbrella-man humbly.
"Am I a usurer?" asked the perfumer reproachfully.
"What can I do, monsieur? I went to your old clerk, du Tillet, and he would not take them at any price. No doubt he wanted to find out how much I'd be willing to lose on them."
"I don't know those signatures," said the perfumer.
"We have such queer names in canes and umbrellas; they belong to the peddlers."
"Well, I won't say that I will take all; but I'll manage the short ones."
"For the want of a thousand francs--sure to be repaid in four months-- don't throw me into the hands of the blood-suckers who get the best of our profits; do take all, monsieur! I do so little in the way of discount that I have no credit; that is what kills us little retailers."
"Well, I'll cash your notes; Celestin will make out the account. Be ready at eleven, will you? There's my architect, Monsieur Grindot," said the perfumer, catching sight of the young man, with whom he had made an appointment at Monsieur de la Billardiere's the night before.
"Contrary to the custom of men of talent you are punctual, monsieur," said Cesar, displaying his finest commercial graces. "If punctuality, in the words of our king,--a man of wit as well as a statesman,--is the politeness of princes, it is also the wealth of merchants. Time, time is gold, especially to you artists. I permit myself to say to you that architecture is the union of all the arts. We will not enter through the shop," he added, opening the private door of his house.
Four years earlier Monsieur Grindot had carried off the /grand prix/ in architecture, and had lately returned from Rome where he had spent three years at the cost of the State. In Italy the young man had dreamed of art; in Paris he thought of fortune. Government alone can pay the needful millions to raise an architect to glory; it is therefore natural that every ambitious youth of that calling, returning from Rome and thinking himself a Fontaine or a Percier, should bow before the administration. The liberal student became a royalist, and sought to win the favor of influential persons. When a /grand prix/ man behaves thus, his comrades call him a trimmer. The young architect in question had two ways open to