Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau [54]
thought Cesarine, involuntarily perhaps, yet not altogether crudely; she gave a bird's-eye glance at the harvest of love in her own home, and reasoned by induction; the happiness of her mother was before her eyes,--she wished for no better fate; her instinct told her that Anselme was another Cesar, improved by his education, as she had been improved by hers. She dreamed of Popinot as mayor of an arrondissement, and liked to picture herself taking up the collections in their parish church as her mother did at Saint-Roch. She had reached the point of no longer perceiving the difference between the left leg and the right leg of her lover, and was even capable of saying, in all sincerity, "Does he limp?" She loved those liquid eyes, and liked to watch the effect her own glance had upon them, as they lighted up for a moment with a chaste flame, and then fell, sadly.
Roguin's head-clerk, Alexandre Crottat, who was gifted with the precocious experience which comes from knowledge acquired in a lawyer's office, had an air and manner that was half cynical, half silly, which revolted Cesarine, already disgusted by the trite and commonplace character of his conversation. The silence of Popinot, on the other hand, revealed his gentle nature; she loved the smile, partly mournful, with which he listened to trivial vulgarities. The silly nonsense which made him smile filled her with repulsion; they were grave or gay in sympathy. This hidden vantage-ground did not hinder Anselme from plunging into his work, and his indefatigable ardor in it pleased Cesarine, for she guessed that when his comrades in the shop said, "Mademoiselle Cesarine will marry Roguin's head- clerk," the poor lame Anselme, with his red hair, did not despair of winning her himself. A high hope is the proof of a great love.
"Where is he going?" asked Cesarine of her father, trying to appear indifferent.
"He is to set up for himself in the Rue des Cinq-Diamants; and, my faith! by the grace of God!" cried Cesar, whose exclamations were not understood by his wife, nor by his daughter.
When Birotteau encountered a moral difficulty he did as the insects do when there is an obstacle in their way,--he turned either to the right or to the left. He therefore changed the conversation, resolving to talk over Cesarine with his wife.
"I told all your fears and fancies about Roguin to your uncle, and he laughed," he said to Constance.
"You should never tell what we say to each other!" cried Constance. "That poor Roguin may be the best man in the world; he is fifty-eight years old, and perhaps he thinks no longer of--"
She stopped short, seeing that Cesarine was listening attentively, and made a sign to Cesar.
"Then I have done right to agree to the affair," said Birotteau.
"You are the master," she answered.
Cesar took his wife by the hands and kissed her brow; that answer always conveyed her tacit assent to her husband's projects.
"Now, then," cried the perfumer, to his clerks, when he went back to them, "the shop will be closed at ten o'clock. Gentlemen, lend a hand! a great feat! We must move, during the night, all the furniture from the first floor to the second floor. We shall have, as they say, to put the little pots in the big pots, for my architect must have his elbows free to-morrow morning--Popinot has gone out without my permission," he cried, looking round and not seeing his cashier. "Ah, true, he does not sleep here any more, I forget that. He is gone," thought Cesar, "either to write down Monsieur Vauquelin's ideas, or else to hire the shop."
"We all know the cause of this household change," said Celestin, speaking in behalf of the two other clerks and Raguet, grouped behind him. "Is it allowable to congratulate monsieur upon an honor which reflects its light upon the whole establishment? Popinot has told us that monsieur--"
"Hey, hey! my children, it is all true. I have been decorated. I am about to assemble my friends, not only to celebrate the emancipation of our territory, but to commemorate my promotion to the order of the Legion
Roguin's head-clerk, Alexandre Crottat, who was gifted with the precocious experience which comes from knowledge acquired in a lawyer's office, had an air and manner that was half cynical, half silly, which revolted Cesarine, already disgusted by the trite and commonplace character of his conversation. The silence of Popinot, on the other hand, revealed his gentle nature; she loved the smile, partly mournful, with which he listened to trivial vulgarities. The silly nonsense which made him smile filled her with repulsion; they were grave or gay in sympathy. This hidden vantage-ground did not hinder Anselme from plunging into his work, and his indefatigable ardor in it pleased Cesarine, for she guessed that when his comrades in the shop said, "Mademoiselle Cesarine will marry Roguin's head- clerk," the poor lame Anselme, with his red hair, did not despair of winning her himself. A high hope is the proof of a great love.
"Where is he going?" asked Cesarine of her father, trying to appear indifferent.
"He is to set up for himself in the Rue des Cinq-Diamants; and, my faith! by the grace of God!" cried Cesar, whose exclamations were not understood by his wife, nor by his daughter.
When Birotteau encountered a moral difficulty he did as the insects do when there is an obstacle in their way,--he turned either to the right or to the left. He therefore changed the conversation, resolving to talk over Cesarine with his wife.
"I told all your fears and fancies about Roguin to your uncle, and he laughed," he said to Constance.
"You should never tell what we say to each other!" cried Constance. "That poor Roguin may be the best man in the world; he is fifty-eight years old, and perhaps he thinks no longer of--"
She stopped short, seeing that Cesarine was listening attentively, and made a sign to Cesar.
"Then I have done right to agree to the affair," said Birotteau.
"You are the master," she answered.
Cesar took his wife by the hands and kissed her brow; that answer always conveyed her tacit assent to her husband's projects.
"Now, then," cried the perfumer, to his clerks, when he went back to them, "the shop will be closed at ten o'clock. Gentlemen, lend a hand! a great feat! We must move, during the night, all the furniture from the first floor to the second floor. We shall have, as they say, to put the little pots in the big pots, for my architect must have his elbows free to-morrow morning--Popinot has gone out without my permission," he cried, looking round and not seeing his cashier. "Ah, true, he does not sleep here any more, I forget that. He is gone," thought Cesar, "either to write down Monsieur Vauquelin's ideas, or else to hire the shop."
"We all know the cause of this household change," said Celestin, speaking in behalf of the two other clerks and Raguet, grouped behind him. "Is it allowable to congratulate monsieur upon an honor which reflects its light upon the whole establishment? Popinot has told us that monsieur--"
"Hey, hey! my children, it is all true. I have been decorated. I am about to assemble my friends, not only to celebrate the emancipation of our territory, but to commemorate my promotion to the order of the Legion