Part 58 (1/2)
”Poor old fellow! you are without most things.--Are you also _sans culotte_?”
”You laugh at me! I am done for,” cried the Baron. ”And I counted on you as Gourville did on Ninon.”
”And it was a 'real lady,' I am told who brought you to this,” said Josepha. ”Those precious s.l.u.ts know how to pluck a goose even better than we do!--Why, you are like a corpse that the crows have done with--I can see daylight through!”
”Time is short, Josepha!”
”Come in, old boy, I am alone, as it happens, and my people don't know you. Send away your trap. Is it paid for?”
”Yes,” said the Baron, getting out with the help of Josepha's arm.
”You may call yourself my father if you like,” said the singer, moved to pity.
She made Hulot sit down in the splendid drawing-room where he had last seen her.
”And is it the fact, old man,” she went on, ”that you have killed your brother and your uncle, ruined your family, mortgaged your children's house over and over again, and robbed the Government till in Africa, all for your princess?”
Hulot sadly bent his head.
”Well, I admire that!” cried Josepha, starting up in her enthusiasm.
”It is a general flare-up! It is Sardanapalus! Splendid, thoroughly complete! I may be a hussy, but I have a soul! I tell you, I like a spendthrift, like you, crazy over a woman, a thousand times better than those torpid, heartless bankers, who are supposed to be so good, and who ruin no end of families with their rails--gold for them, and iron for their gulls! You have only ruined those who belong to you, you have sold no one but yourself; and then you have excuses, physical and moral.”
She struck a tragic att.i.tude, and spouted:
”'Tis Venus whose grasp never parts from her prey.
And there you are!” and she pirouetted on her toe.
Vice, Hulot found, could forgive him; vice smiled on him from the midst of unbridled luxury. Here, as before a jury, the magnitude of a crime was an extenuating circ.u.mstance. ”And is your lady pretty at any rate?”
asked Josepha, trying as a preliminary act of charity, to divert Hulot's thoughts, for his depression grieved her.
”On my word, almost as pretty as you are,” said the Baron artfully.
”And monstrously droll? So I have been told. What does she do, I say? Is she better fun than I am?”
”I don't want to talk about her,” said Hulot.
”And I hear she has come round my Crevel, and little Steinbock, and a gorgeous Brazilian?”
”Very likely.”
”And that she has got a house as good as this, that Crevel has given her. The baggage! She is my provost-marshal, and finishes off those I have spoiled. I tell you why I am so curious to know what she is like, old boy; I just caught sight of her in the Bois, in an open carriage--but a long way off. She is a most accomplished harpy, Carabine says. She is trying to eat up Crevel, but he only lets her nibble.
Crevel is a knowing hand, good-natured but hard-headed, who will always say Yes, and then go his own way. He is vain and pa.s.sionate; but his cash is cold. You can never get anything out of such fellows beyond a thousand to three thousand francs a month; they jib at any serious outlay, as a donkey does at a running stream.
”Not like you, old boy. You are a man of pa.s.sions; you would sell your country for a woman. And, look here, I am ready to do anything for you!
You are my father; you started me in life; it is a sacred duty. What do you want? Do you want a hundred thousand francs? I will wear myself to a rag to gain them. As to giving you bed and board--that is nothing. A place will be laid for you here every day; you can have a good room on the second floor, and a hundred crowns a month for pocket-money.”
The Baron, deeply touched by such a welcome, had a last qualm of honor.