The Kill - Emile Zola [109]
Saccard came out two or three times to see “the children.” He was overwhelmed by worry, he said. It was only in October, when all three were together again in Paris, that he gave serious consideration to the idea of a closer relationship with his wife. The Charonne affair was almost ripe. His plan was clear and ruthless. He intended to trap Renée in the sort of game he might play with a prostitute. She needed ever greater sums of cash, yet pride prevented her from asking her husband to supply the money unless she was at the end of her tether. Saccard vowed to take advantage of her next request by gallantly offering his assent and then using the joy occasioned by the repayment of some huge debt to resume relations long since severed.
Terrible financial difficulties awaited Renée and Maxime in Paris. Several of the notes payable to Larsonneau had come due, but since Saccard of course left them lying untouched at the bailiff ’s office, Renée didn’t worry much about them. She was a good deal more terrified of her debt to Worms, which had now risen to nearly 200,000 francs. The tailor was demanding partial payment, in lieu of which he threatened to cut off her credit. She shuddered at the thought of the scandal that a lawsuit would cause and above all at the idea of a to-do with the illustrious couturier. She also needed pocket money. She and Maxime would die of boredom if they didn’t have several louis to spend every day. The dear child was broke now that his forays into his father’s cabinets were coming up empty. His fidelity and exemplary behavior over the past seven or eight months had had a great deal to do with the emptiness of his wallet. He didn’t always have twenty francs to invite a trollop to supper, so he philosophically returned home. On each of their escapades Renée opened her purse so that he could pay in the restaurants, dance halls, and burlesque houses they visited. She still treated him maternally and even handled money herself, with the tips of her gloved fingers, at the pastry shop where they stopped nearly every afternoon to eat little oyster pâtés. Many mornings he found louis in his jacket that he didn’t know were there, money she had put there as a mother to make sure her boy didn’t go off to school with empty pockets. And now this delightful life of tasty treats, gratified whims, and facile pleasures was to end! But that was not their greatest worry. Sylvia’s jeweler, to whom Maxime owed 10,000 francs, was angry and made dark allusions to Clichy—the debtor’s prison. The notes he held, long since overdue, had accumulated so many penalties that the young man’s debt had increased by another three or four thousand francs. Saccard declared flatly that he could do nothing. His son in prison would garner him a certain notoriety, and when he bailed the boy out, the news of his paternal generosity would spread far and wide. Renée was in despair. When she envisioned her dear child in prison, she imagined him in a dungeon lying on a bed of damp straw. One night she seriously proposed that they stop going out, that they remain shut up at home out of everyone’s sight and beyond the reach of the law’s minions. And she swore that she would find the money. She never mentioned the reason for the debt or the name of Sylvia, who recorded her amours on the mirrors of private rooms in restaurants. She needed 50,000 francs: 15,000 for Maxime, 30,000 for Worms, and 5,000 for pocket money. That would buy them two solid weeks of happiness. She set to work.
Her first idea was to ask her husband for the 50,000 francs. She came to that decision only with reluctance. The last time he had entered her room to give her money, he had again planted kisses on her neck and held her hand and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Women are acutely perceptive when it comes to divining the intentions of men. So she expected some demand from him, a tacit bargain sealed with a smile. And indeed, when