The Kill - Emile Zola [35]
If Mme Sidonie did not amass a fortune, it was because she often labored for sheer love of her art. With her fondness for legal formalities and willingness to neglect her own affairs for the sake of others, court clerks picked her pockets clean, but she allowed them to get away with this because she derived from her legal entanglements pleasures known only to the litigious. The woman in her died; she became nothing but a business agent, a deal-maker forever bustling about Paris with her legendary basket full of the most dubious merchandise, ready to sell anything and everything, dreaming of billions, yet willing to go to the justice of peace to plead for ten francs on behalf of a favorite client. Tiny, slight, pale, clad in the thin black dress that seemed to have been cut from a lawyer’s toga, she had shriveled, and to see her scuttle past a row of houses one might have thought she was an errand boy disguised as a girl. Her complexion had the awful pallor of an official document. The smile on her lips seemed to have been snuffed out, while her eyes seemed to swim in the swirl of business deals and other matters that preoccupied her mind. Timid and discreet in her manner, moreover, and with a vague odor of the confessional and the midwife’s consulting room, she had a gentle and maternal way about her, like a nun who has renounced the affections of this world and therefore takes pity on those whose hearts ache. She never spoke of her husband, any more than she spoke of her childhood, family, or interests. There was only one thing she did not sell: herself. Not because she had any scruples, but because the idea of such a bargain could never have occurred to her. She was as dry as an invoice, as cold as an unpaid bill, as indifferent and brutal inside as a sheriff ’s deputy.
Saccard, newly arrived from his province, could not at first fathom the intricate depths of Mme Sidonie’s numerous occupations. Since he had done a year of law, she spoke to him one day about the three billion francs with an air of seriousness that left him with a poor opinion of her intelligence. She gave the apartment on