Part 59 (1/2)
Mademoiselle Olympe Bijou, a child of sixteen, had the exquisite face which Raphael drew for his Virgins; eyes of pathetic innocence, weary with overwork--black eyes, with long lashes, their moisture parched with the heat of laborious nights, and darkened with fatigue; a complexion like porcelain, almost too delicate; a mouth like a partly opened pomegranate; a heaving bosom, a full figure, pretty hands, the whitest teeth, and a ma.s.s of black hair; and the whole meagrely set off by a cotton frock at seventy-five centimes the metre, leather shoes without heels, and the cheapest gloves. The girl, all unconscious of her charms, had put on her best frock to wait on the fine lady.
The Baron, gripped again by the clutch of profligacy, felt all his life concentrated in his eyes. He forgot everything on beholding this delightful creature. He was like a sportsman in sight of the game; if an emperor were present, he must take aim!
”And warranted sound,” said Josepha in his ear. ”An honest child, and wanting bread. This is Paris--I have been there!”
”It is a bargain,” replied the old man, getting up and rubbing his hands.
When Olympe Bijou was gone, Josepha looked mischievously at the Baron.
”If you want things to keep straight, Daddy,” said she, ”be as firm as the Public Prosecutor on the bench. Keep a tight hand on her, be a Bartholo! Ware Auguste, Hippolyte, Nestor, Victor--_or_, that is gold, in every form. When once the child is fed and dressed, if she gets the upper hand, she will drive you like a serf.--I will see to settling you comfortably. The Duke does the handsome; he will lend--that is, give--you ten thousand francs; and he deposits eight thousand with his notary, who will pay you six hundred francs every quarter, for I cannot trust you.--Now, am I nice?”
”Adorable.”
Ten days after deserting his family, when they were gathered round Adeline, who seemed to be dying, as she said again and again, in a weak voice, ”Where is he?” Hector, under the name of Thoul, was established in the Rue Saint-Maur, at the head of a business as embroiderer, under the name of Thoul and Bijou.
Victorin Hulot, under the overwhelming disasters of his family, had received the finis.h.i.+ng touch which makes or mars the man. He was perfection. In the great storms of life we act like the captain of a s.h.i.+p who, under the stress of a hurricane, lightens the s.h.i.+p of its heaviest cargo. The young lawyer lost his self-conscious pride, his too evident a.s.sertiveness, his arrogance as an orator and his political pretensions. He was as a man what his wife was as a woman. He made up his mind to make the best of his Celestine--who certainly did not realize his dreams--and was wise enough to estimate life at its true value by contenting himself in all things with the second best. He vowed to fulfil his duties, so much had he been shocked by his father's example.
These feelings were confirmed as he stood by his mother's bed on the day when she was out of danger. Nor did this happiness come single. Claude Vignon, who called every day from the Prince de Wissembourg to inquire as to Madame Hulot's progress, desired the re-elected deputy to go with him to see the Minister.
”His Excellency,” said he, ”wants to talk over your family affairs with you.”
The Prince had long known Victorin Hulot, and received him with a friendliness that promised well.
”My dear fellow,” said the old soldier, ”I promised your uncle, in this room, that I would take care of your mother. That saintly woman, I am told, is getting well again; now is the time to pour oil into your wounds. I have for you here two hundred thousand francs; I will give them to you----”
The lawyer's gesture was worthy of his uncle the Marshal.
”Be quite easy,” said the Prince, smiling; ”it is money in trust. My days are numbered; I shall not always be here; so take this sum, and fill my place towards your family. You may use this money to pay off the mortgage on your house. These two hundred thousand francs are the property of your mother and your sister. If I gave the money to Madame Hulot, I fear that, in her devotion to her husband, she would be tempted to waste it. And the intention of those who restore it to you is, that it should produce bread for Madame Hulot and her daughter, the Countess Steinbock. You are a steady man, the worthy son of your n.o.ble mother, the true nephew of my friend the Marshal; you are appreciated here, you see--and elsewhere. So be the guardian angel of your family, and take this as a legacy from your uncle and me.”
”Monseigneur,” said Hulot, taking the Minister's hand and pressing it, ”such men as you know that thanks in words mean nothing; grat.i.tude must be proven.”
”Prove yours--” said the old man.
”In what way?”
”By accepting what I have to offer you,” said the Minister. ”We propose to appoint you to be attorney to the War Office, which just now is involved in litigations in consequence of the plan for fortifying Paris; consulting clerk also to the Prefecture of Police; and a member of the Board of the Civil List. These three appointments will secure you salaries amounting to eighteen thousand francs, and will leave you politically free. You can vote in the Chamber in obedience to your opinions and your conscience. Act in perfect freedom on that score. It would be a bad thing for us if there were no national opposition!
”Also, a few lines from your uncle, written a day or two before he breathed his last, suggested what I could do for your mother, whom he loved very truly.--Mesdames Popinot, de Rastignac, de Navarreins, d'Espard, de Grandlieu, de Carigliano, de Lenoncourt, and de la Batie have made a place for your mother as a Lady Superintendent of their charities. These ladies, presidents of various branches of benevolent work, cannot do everything themselves; they need a lady of character who can act for them by going to see the objects of their beneficence, ascertaining that charity is not imposed upon, and whether the help given really reaches those who applied for it, finding out that the poor who are ashamed to beg, and so forth. Your mother will fulfil an angelic function; she will be thrown in with none but priests and these charitable ladies; she will be paid six thousand francs and the cost of her hackney coaches.
”You see, young man, that a pure and n.o.bly virtuous man can still a.s.sist his family, even from the grave. Such a name as your uncle's is, and ought to be, a buckler against misfortune in a well-organized scheme of society. Follow in his path; you have started in it, I know; continue in it.”
”Such delicate kindness cannot surprise me in my mother's friend,” said Victorin. ”I will try to come up to all your hopes.”
”Go at once, and take comfort to your family.--By the way,” added the Prince, as he shook hands with Victorin, ”your father has disappeared?”
”Alas! yes.”
”So much the better. That unhappy man has shown his wit, in which, indeed, he is not lacking.”