Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [137]
Esther.--I say, you will give that poor Val-Noble all the furniture in the Rue Taitbout? And to-morrow I wish you would give her fifty thousand francs--it would look handsome, my duck. You see, you killed Falleix; people are beginning to cry out upon you, and this liberality will look Babylonian--all the women will talk about it! Oh! there will be no one in Paris so grand, so noble as you; and as the world is constituted, Falleix will be forgotten. So, after all, it will be money deposited at interest."
"You are right, mein anchel; you know the vorld," he replied. "You shall be mein adfiser."
"Well, you see," said Esther, "how I study my man's interest, his position and honor.--Go at once and bring those fifty thousand francs."
She wanted to get rid of Monsieur de Nucingen so as to get a stockbroker to sell the bond that very afternoon.
"But vy dis minute?" asked he.
"Bless me, my sweetheart, you must give it to her in a little satin box wrapped round a fan. You must say, 'Here, madame, is a fan which I hope may be to your taste.'--You are supposed to be a Turcaret, and you will become a Beaujon."
"Charming, charming!" cried the Baron. "I shall be so clever henceforth.--Yes, I shall repeat your vorts."
Just as Esther had sat down, tired with the effort of playing her part, Europe came in.
"Madame," said she, "here is a messenger sent from the Quai Malaquais by Celestin, M. Lucien's servant----"
"Bring him in--no, I will go into the ante-room."
"He has a letter for you, madame, from Celestin."
Esther rushed into the ante-room, looked at the messenger, and saw that he looked like the genuine thing.
"Tell HIM to come down," said Esther, in a feeble voice and dropping into a chair after reading the letter. "Lucien means to kill himself," she added in a whisper to Europe. "No, take the letter up to him."
Carlos Herrera, still in his disguise as a bagman, came downstairs at once, and keenly scrutinized the messenger on seeing a stranger in the ante-room.
"You said there was no one here," said he in a whisper to Europe.
And with an excess of prudence, after looking at the messenger, he went straight into the drawing-room. Trompe-la-Mort did not know that for some time past the famous constable of the detective force who had arrested him at the Maison Vauquer had a rival, who, it was supposed, would replace him. This rival was the messenger.
"They are right," said the sham messenger to Contenson, who was waiting for him in the street. "The man you describe is in the house; but he is not a Spaniard, and I will burn my hand off if there is not a bird for our net under that priest's gown."
"He is no more a priest than he is a Spaniard," said Contenson.
"I am sure of that," said the detective.
"Oh, if only we were right!" said Contenson.
Lucien had been away for two days, and advantage had been taken of his absence to lay this snare, but he returned this evening, and the courtesan's anxieties were allayed. Next morning, at the hour when Esther, having taken a bath, was getting into bed again, Madame du Val-Noble arrived.
"I have the two pills!" said her friend.
"Let me see," said Esther, raising herself with her pretty elbow buried in a pillow trimmed with lace.
Madame du Val-Noble held out to her what looked like two black currants.
The Baron had given Esther a pair of greyhounds of famous pedigree, which will be always known by the name of the great contemporary poet who made them fashionable; and Esther, proud of owning them, had called them by the names of their parents, Romeo and Juliet. No need here to describe the whiteness and grace of these beasts, trained for the drawing-room, with manners suggestive of English propriety. Esther called Romeo; Romeo ran up on legs so supple and thin, so strong and sinewy, that they seemed like steel springs, and looked up at his mistress. Esther, to attract his attention, pretended to throw one of the pills.
"He is doomed by his nature to die thus," said she, as she threw the pill, which Romeo crushed between his teeth.
"You are right, mein anchel; you know the vorld," he replied. "You shall be mein adfiser."
"Well, you see," said Esther, "how I study my man's interest, his position and honor.--Go at once and bring those fifty thousand francs."
She wanted to get rid of Monsieur de Nucingen so as to get a stockbroker to sell the bond that very afternoon.
"But vy dis minute?" asked he.
"Bless me, my sweetheart, you must give it to her in a little satin box wrapped round a fan. You must say, 'Here, madame, is a fan which I hope may be to your taste.'--You are supposed to be a Turcaret, and you will become a Beaujon."
"Charming, charming!" cried the Baron. "I shall be so clever henceforth.--Yes, I shall repeat your vorts."
Just as Esther had sat down, tired with the effort of playing her part, Europe came in.
"Madame," said she, "here is a messenger sent from the Quai Malaquais by Celestin, M. Lucien's servant----"
"Bring him in--no, I will go into the ante-room."
"He has a letter for you, madame, from Celestin."
Esther rushed into the ante-room, looked at the messenger, and saw that he looked like the genuine thing.
"Tell HIM to come down," said Esther, in a feeble voice and dropping into a chair after reading the letter. "Lucien means to kill himself," she added in a whisper to Europe. "No, take the letter up to him."
Carlos Herrera, still in his disguise as a bagman, came downstairs at once, and keenly scrutinized the messenger on seeing a stranger in the ante-room.
"You said there was no one here," said he in a whisper to Europe.
And with an excess of prudence, after looking at the messenger, he went straight into the drawing-room. Trompe-la-Mort did not know that for some time past the famous constable of the detective force who had arrested him at the Maison Vauquer had a rival, who, it was supposed, would replace him. This rival was the messenger.
"They are right," said the sham messenger to Contenson, who was waiting for him in the street. "The man you describe is in the house; but he is not a Spaniard, and I will burn my hand off if there is not a bird for our net under that priest's gown."
"He is no more a priest than he is a Spaniard," said Contenson.
"I am sure of that," said the detective.
"Oh, if only we were right!" said Contenson.
Lucien had been away for two days, and advantage had been taken of his absence to lay this snare, but he returned this evening, and the courtesan's anxieties were allayed. Next morning, at the hour when Esther, having taken a bath, was getting into bed again, Madame du Val-Noble arrived.
"I have the two pills!" said her friend.
"Let me see," said Esther, raising herself with her pretty elbow buried in a pillow trimmed with lace.
Madame du Val-Noble held out to her what looked like two black currants.
The Baron had given Esther a pair of greyhounds of famous pedigree, which will be always known by the name of the great contemporary poet who made them fashionable; and Esther, proud of owning them, had called them by the names of their parents, Romeo and Juliet. No need here to describe the whiteness and grace of these beasts, trained for the drawing-room, with manners suggestive of English propriety. Esther called Romeo; Romeo ran up on legs so supple and thin, so strong and sinewy, that they seemed like steel springs, and looked up at his mistress. Esther, to attract his attention, pretended to throw one of the pills.
"He is doomed by his nature to die thus," said she, as she threw the pill, which Romeo crushed between his teeth.