Eugenie Grandet

UC-NRLF

i^J-r-'V-.r-;.,:-

B M Dt.1 fll3

:.- ««<' «». « ««■■«'

^«#..'-< ••••J^ ««•-

::^:f!3

•n-T'Itj^iii,'; jsKo ■*•♦*•'»!?.

♦•.•••♦•(H** .-■.>•»*-• .

^ ■,^. ♦*f-*^v*

H. DE BALZAC

EUGENIE GRANDET

Translated by

ELLEN MARRIAGE

tulth a Preface by

GEORGE SAINTSBURY

LONDON
J. M. DENT AND SONS LTD.

NEW YORK : MACMILLAN & CO
MCMXIII

^♦fOLrSH

t ^ » « «

c * «

^ - "^ ^

no

LIST OF ETCHINGS

NANON WAS MILKING THE COW .

THE DOOR STOOD AJAR ; SHE THRUST IT OPEN

* DO YOU HEAR WHAT I SAY ? GO ! * .

Draivn and Etched by D. Murray Smith,

Frontispiece

PACK

. 127

• 17+

43304O

PREFACE

With Eugenie Grandet^ as with one or two, but only
one or two others of Balzac's works, we come to a case
of ^uis vituperavii F Here, and perhaps here only, with
Le Aledecin de Campagne and Le Pere Goriot^ though
there may be carpers and depreciators, there are no
open deniers of the merit of the work. uThe pathos
of Eugenie, the mastery of Grandet, the success of the
minor characters, especially Nanon, are universally
recognised. |The importance of the work has some-
times been slightly questioned even by those who admit
its beauty : but this questioning can only support itself
on the unavowed but frequently present conviction or
suspicion that a * good * or ' goody ' book must be a
weak one. As a matter of fact, no book can be, or can
be asked to be, better than perfect on its own scheme,
and with its own conditions. And on its own scheme
and with its own conditions Eugenie Grandet is very
nearly perfect.

On the character of the heroine will turn the final
decision whether, as has been said by some (I believe I
might be charged with having said it myself), Balzac's
virtuous characters are always more theatrical than real.
The decision must take in the Benassis of Le Medecin
de Campagne^ but with him it will have less difficulty;

viii Preface

for Benassis, despite the beauty and pathos of his con-
fession, is a little ' a person of the boards ' in his unfailingly
providential character and his complete devotion to
others. Must Eugenic, his feminine companion in
goodness, be put on these boards likewrisc ?

I admit that of late years, and more particularly since
the undertaking of this present task made necessary to
me a more complete and methodical study of the whole
works, including the most miscellaneous miscellanies^
than I had previously given, my estimate of Balzac's
goodness has gone up very much — that of his greatness
had no need of raising. But I still think that even
about Eugenie there is a very little unreality, a slight
/ touch of that ignorance of thd actual nature of girls
which even fervent admirers of French novelists in
general, and of Balzac in particular, have confessed to
finding in them and him. That Eugenie should be
entirely subjugated first by the splendour, and then by
f\/ the misfortune, of her Parisian cousin, is not in the least
unnatural ; nor do I for one moment pretend to deny the
possibility or the likelihood of her having

• lifted up her eyw,
And loved him with that love which was her doom.'

It is also difficult to make too much allowance for the
fatal effect of an education under an insignificant if
amiable mother and a tyrannical father, and of a con-
finement to an excessively small circle of extremely
provincial society, on a disposition of more nobility than
intellectual height or range, j Still it must, I think, be
permitted to the advocatus diaholi to urge that Eugenie's
— martyrdom is almost too thorough ; that though complete,

Preface ix

it is not, as Gauticr said of his own ill luck, ^ artistement
complet ' ; that though it may be difficult to put the finger on—
any special blot, to say, ' Here the girl should have revolted,'
or ' Here she would have behaved in some other way
differently ' ; still there is a vague sense of incomplete
lifelikeness — of that tendency to mirage and exaggeration /
which has been, and will be, so often noticed.

Still it is vague and not unpleasantly obtrusive, and in
all other ways Eugenie is a triumph. It is noticeable that
her creator has dwelt on the actual traits of her face
with much more distinctness than is usual with him ; for
Balzac's extraordinary minuteness in many ways does
not invariably extend to physical charms. This minute-
ness is indeed so great that one has a certain suspicion of
tlte head being taken from a live and special original.
/Nor is her physical presence — abominably libelled, there is
no doubt, by Mme. des Grassins — the only distinct thing
about Eugenie. We see her hovering about the heau^
cousin with an innocent officiousness capable of commit-
ting no less the major crime of lending him money than
the minor, but even more audacious, because open, one of
letting him have sugar. She is perfectly natural in the
courage with which she bears her father's unjust rage,^
and in the forgiveness which, quite as a matter of -.
course, she extends to him after he has broken her own^
peace and her mother's heart. It is perhaps necessaiy to
be French to comprehend' entirely why she could not
heap that magnificent pile of coals of fire on her unworthy -
cousin's head without flinging herself and her seventeen
millions into the arms of somebody else ; but the thing
can be accepted if not quite understood. And the whole
transaction of this heaping is admirable.

X Preface

If the criticism be not thought something ot a super-
subtlety, it may perhaps be suggested that the inferiority
which has generally been acknowledged in the lover is a
confession or indication that there is something very
slightly wrong wiYh the scheme of Eugenie herself —
that if she had been absolutely natural, it would not have
,been necessary to make Charles not merely a thankless
brute, but a heedless fool. However great a scoundrel

^he ex-slave-trader may have been (and as presented to us
earlier he does not seem so much scoundrelly as shallow),
his respectable occupation must have made him a smart
man of business ; and as such, before burning his boats
by such a letter as he writes, he might surely have found
cut how the land lay. But this does not matter much.

/'' -Nanon is, of course, quite excellent. She is not stupid,
as her kind are supposed to be ; she is only blindly

^faithful, as well as thoroughly gojDid-hearted. Nor is the
unfortunate Madame Grandet an idiot, nor are any of
the comparses mere dummies. But naturally they all,
\ even Eugenie herself to some extent, serve mainly as sets-
ofF to the terrible Grandet. In him Balzac, a French-
/man of Frenchmen, has boldly depicted perhaps the worst

/and the commonest vice of the French character, the
vice which is more common, and certainly worse than
either the frivolity or the license with which the nation
is usually charged — the pushing, to wit, of thrift to the
loathsome excess of an inhuman avarice. But he has
justified himself to his country by communicating to his
hero an unquestioned grandeur. The mirage works
again, but it works with splendid effect. One need not
be a sentimentalist to shudder a little at the ta ta ia ta
of Grandet, the refrain of a money-grubbing which

Preface xi

almost escapes greediness by its diabolic extravagance and
success.

The bibliography of the book is not complicated.
Balzac tried the first chapter (there were originally
seven) in V Europe Litter aire for September 19, 1833;
but he did not continue it there, and it appeared com-
plete in the first volume of Scenes de la Vie de Province next
year. Charpentier republished it in a single volume in
1839. The Comedie engulfed it in 1843, ^^® chaptei
divisions then disappearing.

» 1 ^

EUGfiNIE GRANDET

To Maria,

Your portrait is the fairest ornament of this book-^.
and here it is fitting that your name should be sety
like the branch of box taken from some unknown
garden to lie for a while in the holy water^ and
afterwards set by pious hands above the threshold^
where the green spray^ ever renewed^ is a sacred
talisman to ward off all evil from the house.

In some country towns there are houses more depressing
to the sight than the dimmest cloister, the most melan*
choly ruins, or the dreariest stretch of sandy waste.
Perhaps such houses as these combine the characteristics
of all the three, and to the dumb silence of the monastery
they unite the gauntness and grimness of the ruin, and
the arid desolation of the waste. So little sign is there
of life or of movement about them, that a stranger
might take them for uninhabited dwellings ; but the
sound of an unfamiliar footstep brings some one to the
window, a passive face suddenly appears above the sill,
and the traveller receives a listless and indifferent glance
— it is almost as if a monk leaned out to look for a
moment on the world.

There is one particular house front in Saumur which
possesses all these melancholy characteristics ; the house
is still standing at the end of the steep street which leads

A

v/

i ' ' ;Eugenie Grandet

'to the'C'istlfe-j'at't^e 'upjiei*. end of the town. The street
is very quiet nowadays ; it is hot in summer and cold
in winter, and very dark in places ; besides this, it is
remarkably narrow and crooked, there is a peculiarly
formal and sedate air about its houses, and it is curious
how every sound reverberates through it — the cobble
stones (always clean and dry) ring; with every passing
footfall.

This is the oldest part of the town, the ramparts rise
immediatelv above it. The houses of the quarter have
stood for three centuries ; and albeit they are built of
wood, they are strong and sound yet. Each house has
a cerrain character of its own, so that for the artist and
antiquary this is the most attractive part of the town of
Saumur. Indeed, it would hardly be possible to go past
the houses without a wondering glance at the grotesque
figures carved on the projecting ends of the huge beams,
set like a black bas-relief above the ground floor of
almost every dwelling. Sometimes, where these beams
have been protected from the weather bv slates, a strip
of dull blue runs across the crumbling walls, and crown-
ing the whole is a high-pitched roof oddly curved and
bent with age ; the shingle boards that cover it are all
warped and twisted by the alternate sun and rain of
many a year. There are bits of delicate carving too,
here and there, though you can scarcely make them out,
on the worn and blackened window sills that seem
scarcely strong enough to bear the weight of the red
flower-pot in which some poor workwoman has set her
tree carnation or her monthly rose.

Still further along the street there are more pretentious
house doors studded with huge nails. On these our
forefathers exercised their ingenuity, tracing hieroglyphs
and mysterious signs which were once understood in
everv household, but all clues to their meaning are
forgotten now — they will be understood no more of ->""
mortal. In such wise would a Protestant make his

me Grandet

fession of faith, there also would a Leaguer curse Henrv
IV. in graven symbols. A burgher would commemorate
his civic dignities, the glory of his long-forgotten tenure
of office as alderman or sheriff. On those old
houses, if we could but read it, the history of France is
chronicled.

Beside the rickety little tenement built of wood, with
masonry of the roughest, upon the wall of which the
craftsman has set the glorified image of his trade — his
plane — stands the mansion of some noble, with its
massive round arched gateway ; you can still see some
traces above it of the arms borne by the owner, though
they have been torn down in one of the many revolutions
which have convulsed the country since 1789.

You will find no imposing shop windows in the
street ; strictly speaking indeed, there are no shops at
all, for the rooms on the ground floor in which articles
are exposed for sale are neither more nor less than the
workshops of the times of our forefathers ; lovers oi
the Middle Ages will find here the primitive simplicity
of an older world. The low-ceiled rooms are dark,
cavernous, and guiltless ahke of plate glass windows or
of show cases ; there is no attempt at decoration either
within or without, no efi^ort is made to display the wares.
The door as a rule is heavily barred with iron and
divided into two parts ; the upper half is thrown back
during the day, admitting fresh air and daylight into the
damp little cave ; while the lower portion, to which a
bell is attached, is seldom still. The shop front consists
of a low wall of about elbow height, which fills half the
space between floor and ceiling ; there is no window
sash, but heavy shutters fastened with iron bolts fit into
a groove in the top of the wall, and are set up at night
and taken down in the morning. The same wall serves
as a counter on which to set out goods fjr the customer's
inspection. There is no sort of charlatanism about the
proceeding. The samples submitted to the pubhc vary

4 Eugenie Grandet

according to the nature of the trade. You behold a keg
or two of salt or of salted fish, two or three bales of sail-
cloth or coils of rope, some copper wire hanging from
the rafters, a few cooper's hoops on the walls, or a length
or two of cloth upon the shelves.

You go in. A neat and tidy damsel with a pair of
bare red arms, the fresh good looks of youth, and a white
handkerchief pinned about her throat, lays down her
knitting and goes to summon a father or mother, who
appears and sells goods to you as you desire, be it a
matter of two sous or of twenty thousand francs ; the
manner of the transaction varying as the humour of the
vendor is surly, obliging or independent. You will see
a dealer in barrel-staves sitting in his doorway, twirling
his thumbs as he chats with a neighbour ; judging from
appearances, he might possess nothing in this world but
the bottles on his few rickety shelves, and two or three
bundles of laths ; but his well-stocked timber yard on
the quay supplies all the coopers in Anjou, he knows
to a barrel-stave how many casks he can 'turn out,' as
he says, if the vines do well and the vintage is good ; a
few scorching days and his fortune is made, a rainy
summer is a ruinous thing for him ; in a single morn-
ing the price of puncheons will rise as high as eleven
francs or drop to six.

Here, as in Touraine, the whole trade of the district
depends upon an atmospherical depression. Landowners,
vinegrowers, timber merchants, coopers, innkeepers, and
lightermen, one and all are on the watch for a ray of
sunlight. Not a man of them but goes to bed in fear
and trembling lest he should hear in the morning that
there has been a frost in the night. If it is not rain that
they dread, it is wind or drought ; they must have cloudy
weather or heat, and the rainfall and the weather generally
all arranged to suit their peculiar notions.

Between the clerk of the weather and the vine-growing
interest there is a duel which never ceases. Faces visibly

Eugenie Grandet 5

lengthen or shorten, grow bright or gloomy, with the
ups and downs of the barometer. Sometimes you hear
from one end to the other of the old High Street of
Saumur the words, ' This is golden weather ! ' or again,
in language which likewise is no mere figure of speech,
' It is raining gold louis ! * and they all know the exact
value of sun or rain at the right moment.

After twelve o'clock or so on a Saturday in the summer
time, you will not do a pennyworth of business among
the worthy townsmen of Saumur. Each has his little
farm and his bit of vineyard, and goes to spend the
' week end ' in the country. As everybody knows this
beforehand, just as everybody knows everybody else's
business, his goings and comings, his buyings and sellings,
and profits to boot, the good folk are free to spend ten
hours out of the twelve in making up pleasant little parties,
in taking notes and making comments, and keeping a
sharp look-out on their neighbours' affairs. The mistress
of a house cannot buy a partridge but the neighbours
will inquire of her husband whether the bird was done to
a turn ; no damsel can put her head out of the window
without being observed by every group of unoccupied
observers.

Impenetrable, dark, and silent as the houses may seem,
they contain no mysteries hidden from public scrutiny,
and in the same way every one knows what is passing in
every one else's mind. To begin with, the good folk
spend most of their lives out of doors, they sit on the steps
of their houses, breakfast there and dine there, and adjust
any little family differences in the doorway. Every
passer-by is scanned with the most minute and diligent
attention ; hence, any stranger who may happen to arrive
in such a country town has, in a manner, to run the
gauntlet, and is severely quizzed from every doorstep.
By dint of perseverance in the methods thus indicated a
quantity of droll stories may be collected ; and, indeed,
the people of Anders, who are of an inp^enious turn, and

6 Eugenie Grandet

quick at repartee, have been nicknamed ' the tattlers ' on
these very grounds.

The largest houses of the old quarter in which the
nobles once dwelt are all at the upper end of the street,
and in one of these the events took place which are about
to be narrated in the course of this story. As has been
already said, it was a melancholy house, a venerable relic
of a bygone age, built for the men and women of an
older and simpler world, from which our modern France
is further and further removed day by day. After you
have followed for some distance the windings of the
picturesque street, where memories of the past are called
up by every detail at every turn, till at length you fall
unconsciously to musing, you come upon a sufficiently
gloomy recess in which a doorway is dimly visible, the
door of AI. Grandet's house. Of all the pride and
glory of proprietorship conveyed to the provincial mind
by those three words, it is impossible to give any idea,
except by giving the biography of the owner — M.
Grandet.

M. Grandet enjoyed a certain reputation in Saumur.
Its causes and effects can scarcely be properly estimated
by outsiders who have not lived in a country town for
a longer or shorter time. There were still old people
in existence who could remember former times, and
called M. Grandet ' Goodman Grandet,' but there were
not many of them left, and they were rapidly disappear-
ing year by year.

In 1789 Grandet was a master cooper, in a very good
way of business, who could read and write and cast
accounts. When the French Republic, having confiscated
the lands of the Church in the district of Saumur, proceeded
to sell them by auction, the cooper was forty years of age,
and had just married the daughter of a wealthy timber
merchant. As Grandet possessed at that moment his
wife's dowry as well as some considerable amount of
ready money of his own, he repaired to the bureau of

Eugenie Grandet 7

the district ; and making due allowance for two hundred
double louis offered by his father-in-law to that man of
stern morals, the Republican who conducted the sale,
the cooper acquired some of the best vineland in the
neighbourhood, an old abbey, and a few little farms, for
an old song, to all of which property, though it might be
ill-gotten, the law gave him a clear title.

There was Httle sympathy felt with the Revolution in
Saumur. Goodman Grandet was looked upon as a bold
spirit, a Republican, a patriot, an 'advanced thinker,*
and what not ; but all the ' thinking ' the cooper ever
did turned simply and solely on the subject of his vines.
He was nominated as a member of the administration of
the district of Saumur, and exercised a pacific influence
both in politics and in commerce. Politically, he be-
friended the ci-devants, and did all that he could to pre-
vent the sale of their property ; commercially, he con-
tracted to supply two thousand hogsheads of white wine
to the Republican armies, taking his payment for the
aforesaid hogsheads in the shape of certain broad acres of
rich meadow land belonging to a convent, the property
of the nuns having been reserved till the last.

In the days of the Consulate, Master Grandet became
mayor j did prudently in his public capacity, and did
very well for himself. Times changed, the Empire was
established, and he became Monsieur Grandet. But M.
Grandet had been looked upon as a red Republican, and
Napoleon had no liking for Republicans, so the mayor
was replaced by a large landowner, a man with a de
before his name, and a prospect of one day becoming a
baron of the Empire. M. Grandet turned his back upon
municipal honours without a shadow of regret. He had
looked well after the interests of the town during his
term of office, excellent roads had been made, passing
in every case by his own domains. His house and land
had been assessed very moderately, the burden of the
taxes did not fall too grievously upon him, since the

8 Eugenie Grandet

assessment moreover he had given ceaseless attention and
care to the cultivation of his vines, so that they had
become the tete du pays^ the technical term for those
vineyards which produce wine of the finest quality. He
had a fair claim to the Cross of the Legion of Honour,
and he received it in 1806.

By this time M. Grandet was fifty-seven years old, and
his wife about thirty-six. The one child of the marriage
was a daughter, a little girl ten years of age. Providence
doubtless sought to console M. Grandet for his official
downfall ; for in this year he succeeded to three fortunes,
the total value was matter for conjecture, no certain
information being forthcoming. The first fell in on the
death of Mme. de la Gaudiniere, Mme. Grandet's mother ;
the deceased lady had been a de la Bertelliere, and her
father, old M. de la Bertelliere, soon followed her ; the
third in order was Mme. Gentillet, M. Grandet's grand-
mother on the mother's side. Old M. de la Bertelliere
used to call an investment 'throwing money away'; the
sight of his hoards of gold repaid him better than any
rate of interest upon it. The town of Saumur, therefore,
roughly calculated the value of the amount that the late
de la Bertelliere was likely to have saved out of his
yearly takings ; and M. Grandet received a new distinc-
tion which none of our manias for equality can efface —
he paid more taxes than any one else in the country
round.

He now cultivated a hundred acres of vineyard ; in a good
year they would yield seven or eight hundred puncheons.
He had thirteen little farms, an old abbey (motives of
economy had led him to wall up the windows, and so
preserve the traceries and stained glass), and a hundred
and twenty-seven acres of grazing land, in which three
thousand poplars, planted in 1793, were growing taller
and larger every year. Finally, he owned the house in
which he Hved.

In these visible ways his prosperity had increased. As

Eugenie Grandet 9

to his capital, there were only two people in a position to
make a guess at its probable amount. One of these was
the notary, M. Cruchot, who transacted all the necessary
business whenever M. Grandet made an investment ; and
the other was M. des Grassins, the wealthiest banker in the
town, who did Grandet many good offices which were
unknown to Saumur. Secrets of this nature, involving
extensive business transactions, are usually well kept ; but
the discreet caution of MM. Cruchot and des Grassins
did not prevent them from addressing M. Grandet in
public with such profound deference that close observers
might draw their own conclusions. Clearly the wealth
of their late mayor must be prodigious indeed that he
should receive such obsequious attention.

There was no one in Saumur who did not fully believe
the report which told how, in a secret hiding-place, M.
Grandet had a hoard of louis, and how every night he
went to look at it and gave himself up to the inexpres-
sible delight of gazing at the huge heap of gold. He
was not the only money-lover in Saumur. Sympathetic
observers looked at his eyes and felt that the story was
true, for they seemed to have the yellow metallic glitter
of the coin over which it was said they had brooded.
Nor was this the only sign. Certain small indefinable
habits, furtive movements, slight mysterious promptings
of greed did not escape the keen observation of fellow-
worshippers. There is something vulpine about the eyes
of a man who lends money at an exorbitant rate or
interest ; they gradually atnd surely contract like those of
the gambler, the sensualist, or the courtier ; and there
is, so to speak, a sort of freemasonry among the passions,
a written language of hieroglyphs and signs for those who
can read them.

M. Grandet therefore inspired in all around him the
respectful esteem which is but the due of a man who has
never owed any one a farthing in his life ; a just and
legitimate tribute to ^n astute old cooper ^nd vinegrower

lO Eugenic Grand-et

who knew beforehand with the certainty of an astronomer
when live hundred casks would serve for the vintage, and
when to have a thousand in readiness ; a man who had
never lost on any speculation, who had always a stock of
empty barrels whenever casks were so dear that they
fetched more than the contents were worth ; who could
store his vintage in his own cellars, and aftbrd to bide his
time, so that his puncheons would bring him in a couple
of hundred francs, while many a little proprietor who
could not wait had to be content with half that amount.
His famous vintage in the year 1811, discreetly held, and
sold only as good opportunities offered, had been worth
two hundred and forty thousand livres to him.

In matters financial M. Grandet might be described as
combining the characteristics of the Bengal tiger and the
boa constrictor. He could lie low and wait, crouching,
watching for his prey, and make his spring unerringly at
last ; then the jaws of his purse would unclose, a torrent
of coin would be swallowed down, and, as in the case of
the gorged reptile, there would be a period of inaction ;
like the serpent, moreover, he was cold, apathetic, methodi-
cal, keeping to his own mysterious times and seasons.

No one could see the man pass without feeling a
certain kind of admiration, which was half dread, half
respect. The tiger's clutch was like steel, his claws
were sharp and swift j was there any one in Saumur who
had not felt them ? Such an one, for instance, wanted
to borrow money to buy that piece of land which he had
set his heart upon ; M. Cruchot had found the money for
him — at eleven per cent. And there was So-and-so
yonder ; M. des Grassins had discounted his bills, but it
was at a ruinous rate.

There were not many days when M. Grandet's name
did not come up in conversation, in familiar talk in the
evenings, or in the gossip of the town. There were
people who took a kind of patriotic pride in the old vine-
grower's wealth. More than one innkeeper or merchant

Eugenie Grandet 1 1

had found occasion to remark to a stranger with a certain
complacency, ' There are millionaires in two or three of
our firms here, sir ; but as for M. Grandet, he himself
could hardlv tell you how much he was worth ! '

In 1816 the shrewdest heads in Saumur set down the
value of the cooper's landed property at about four
millions ; but as, to strike a fair average, he must have
drawn something like a hundred thousand francs (they
thought) from his property between the years 1793 and
1817, the amount of money he possessed must nearly
equal the value of the land. So when M. Grandet's
name was mentioned over a game at boston, or a chat
about the prospects of the vines, these folk would look
wise and remark, ' Who is that vou are talking of? Old
Grandet ? . . Old Grandet must have five or six millions,
there is no doubt about it.'

' Then you are cleverer than I am ; I have never been
able to find out how much he has,' M. Cruchot or M.
des Grassins would put in, if they overheard the speech.

If any one from Paris mentioned the Rothschilds or
M. Laffitte, the good people in Saumur would ask if any
of those persons were as rich as \L Grandet ? And if
the Parisian should answer in the affirmative with a pity-
ing smile, thev looked at one another incredulously and
flung up their heads. So great a fortune was like a
golden mantle ; it covered its owner and all that he did.
At one time some of the eccentricities of his mode of life
gave rise to laughter at his expense ; but the satire and
the laughter had died out, and M. Grandet still went his
way, till at last even his slightest actions came to be
taken as precedents, and every trifling thing he said or
did carried weight. His remarks, his clothing, his
gestures, the way he blinked his eves, had all been
studied with the care with which a naturalist studies the
workings of instinct in some wild creature ; and no one
failed to discern the taciturn and profound wisdom that
underlay all these manifestations.

12 Eugenie Grandet

*• We shall have a hard winter,' they would say ; * old
Grandet has put on his fur gloves, we must gather
the grapes.' Or, ' Goodman Grandet is laying in a lot
of cask staves ; there will be plenty of wine this year.'

M. Grandet never bought either meat or bread. Part
of his rents were paid in kind, and every week his tenants
brought in poultry, eggs, butter, and wheat sufficient for
the needs of his household. Moreover, he owned a mill,
and the miller, besides paying rent, came over to fetch a
certain quantity of corn, and brought him back both the
bran and the flour. Big Nanon, the one maid-servant,
baked all the bread once a week on Saturday mornings
(though she was not so young as she had been). Others
of the tenants were market gardeners, and M. Grandet
had arranged that these were to keep him supplied with
fresh vegetables. Of fruit there was no lack ; indeed, he
sold a good deal of it in the market. Firewood was
gathered from his own hedges, or taken from old
stumps of trees that grew by the sides of his fields. His
tenants chopped up the wood, carted it into the town,
and obligingly stacked his faggots ibr him, receiving in
return — his thanks. So he seldom had occasion to spend
money. His only known items of expenditure were for
sacramental bread, for sittings in the church for his wife
and daughter, their dress, Nanon's wages, renewals of the
linings of Nanon's saucepans, repairs about the house,
candles, rates and taxes, and the necessary outlays of
money for improvements. He had recently acquired six
hundred acres of woodland, and, being una,ble to look
after it himself, had induced a keeper belonging to a
neighbour to attend to it, promising to repay the man
for his trouble. After this purchase had been made, and
not before, game appeared on the Grandets' table.

Grandet's manners were distinctly homely. He did
not say very much. He expressed his ideas, as a rule, in
brief, sententious phrases, uttered in a low voice. Since
the time of the Revolution, when for awhile he had

Eugenie Grandet 13

attracted some attention, the worthy man had contracted
a tiresome habit of stammering as soon as he took part
in a discussion or began to speak at any length. He had
other peculiarities. He habit' ally drowned his ideas in
a flood of wor^' f-^ore o»- V-- incoherent ; his singular
inaptitude for reasoning logically was usually set down to
a defective education ; but this, like his unwelcome fluency,
the trick of stammering, and various other mannerisms,
was assumed, and for reasons which, in the course of the
story, will be made sufliciently clear. In conversation,
moreover, he had other resources : four phrases, Hke
algebraical formulae, which fitted every case, were always
forthcoming to solve every knotty problem in business or
domestic life — ' I do not know,' ' I cannot do it,' ' I will
have nothing to do with it,* and ' We shall see.' He
never committed himself; he never said Yes or No j he
never put anything down in writing. He Hstened with
apparent indifference when he was spoken to, caressing
his chin with his right hand, while the back of his left
supported his elbow. When once he had formed his
opinion in any matter^of business, he never changed it ;
but he pondered long even over the smallest transactions.
When in the course of deep and weighty converse he
had managed to fathom the intentions of an antagonist,
who meanwhile flattered himself that he at last knew
where to have Grandet, the latter was wont to say, * I
must talk it over with my wife before I can give a
definite answer.' In business matters the wife, whom he ''
had reduced to the most abject submission, was unques-
tionably a most convenient support and screen.

He never paid visits, never dined away from home, noi
asked any one to dinner ; his movements were almost ^i
noiseless ; he seemed to carry out his principles of economy
in everything ; to make no useless sound, to be chary of
spending even physical energy. His respect for the rights
of ownership was so habitual that he never displaced nor
disturbed anything belonging to another. And yet, in

14 Eugenie Grandet

spite of the low tones of his voice, in spite of his di^
cretion and cautious bearing, the cooper's real character
showed itself in his langua^-^;; and aianners, and this was
more especially the case in -.is own I- njse, where he was
less on his guard than elsewhere.

As to Grandet's exterio Be was a broad, square-
shouldered, thick-set man, about live feet high ; his legs
were thin (he measured perhaps twelve inches round the
calves), his knee joints large and prominent. He had a
bullet-shaped head, a sun-burned face, scarred with the
smallpox, and a narrow chin ; there was no trace of a
curve about the lines of his mouth. He possessed a set
of white teeth, eyes with the expression of stony avidity
in them with which the basilisk is credited, a deeply-
furrowed brow on which there were prominences not
lacking in significance, hair that had once been of a
sandy hue, but which was now fast turning grey ; so
that thoughtless youngsters, rash enough to make jokes
on so serious a subject, would say that M. Grandet's very
hair was 'gold and silver.' On his nose, which was
broad and blunt at the tip, was a variegated wen ; gossip
affirmed, not without some appearance of truth, that
spite and rancour was the cause of this affection. There
was a dangerous cunning about this face, although the
man, indeed, was honest according to the letter of the
law ; it was a selfish face ; there were but two things in
the world for which its owner cared — the delights of
hoarding wealth in the first place, and in the second, the
only being who counted for anything in his estimation,
his daughter Eugenie, his only child, who one day should
inherit that wealth. His attitude, manner, bearing, and
everything about him plainly showed that he had the
belief in himself which is the natural outcome of an
unbroken record of successful business speculations.
Pliant and smooth-spoken though he might appear to
be, M. Grandet was a man of bronze. He was always
dressed after the same fashion; in 1819 he looked in

Eugenie Grandet 15

this respect exactly as he had looked at any time since
1791. His heavy shoes were secured by leather laces;
he wore thick woollen stockings all the year round, knee
breeches of chestnut brown homespun, silver buckles, a
brown velvet waistcoat adorned with yellow stripes and
buttoned up to the throat, a loosely-fitting coat with
ample skirts, a black cravat, and a broad-brimmed Quaker-
like hat. His gloves, like those of the gendarmerie, were
chosen with a view to hard wear ; a pair lasted him nearly
two years. In order to keep them clean, he always laid
them down on the same place on the brim of his hat,
till the action had come to be mechanical with him.
So much, and no more, Saumur knew of this her
citizen*

A few fellow townspeople, six in all, had the rightof entry
to Grandet's house and society. First among these in order
of importance was M. Cruchot's nephew. Ever since
his appointment as president of the court of first instance,
this young man had added the appellation ' de Bonfons '
to his original name of Cruchot ; in time he hoped that
the Bonfons would efface the Cruchot, when he meant
to drop the Cruchot altogether, and was at no little pains
to compass this end. Already he styled himself C. de
Bonfons. Any litigant who was so ill inspired as to
address him in court as *M. Cruchot,' was soon made
painfully aware that he had blundered. The magistrate
was about thirty-three years of age, and the owner of
the estate of Bonfons [^oni Fontis\ which brought in
annually seven thousand livres. In addition to this he
had prospects ; he would succeed some day to the pro-
perty of his uncle the notary, and there was yet another
uncle besides, the Abbe Cruchot, a dignitary of the
chapter of Saint Martin of .Tours ; both relatives were
commonly reported to be men of substance. The three
Cruchots, with a goodly number of kinsfolk, connected
too by marriage with a score of other houses, formed a
sort of party in the town, like the family oT the Medicis

i^ Eugenie Grandet

in Florence long ago ; and, like the Medicis, the Cruchots
had their rivals — their Pazzi.

Mme. des Grassins, the mother of a son twenty-three
years of age, came assiduously to take a hand at cards
with Mme. Grandet, hoping to marry her own dear
Adolphe to Mademoiselle Eugenie. She had a powerful
ally in her husband the banker, who had secretly rendered
the old miser many a service, and who could give
opportune aid on her field of battle. The three des
Grassins had likewise their host of adherents, their
cousins, and trusty auxiliaries.

The Abbe (the Talleyrand of the Cruchot faction),
well supported by his brother the notary, closely
disputed the ground with the banker's wife ; they
meant to carry off the wealthy heiress for their
nephew the president. The struggle between the
two parties for the prize of the hand of Eugenie
Grandet was an open secret ; all Saumur watched it with
the keenest interest. Which would Mile. Grandet marry ?
Would it be M. le President or M. Adolphe des
Grassins ? Some solved the problem by saying that
M. Grandet would give his daughter to neither. The
old cooper (said they) was consumed with an ambition
to have a peer of France for his son-in-law, and he was
on the look-out for a peer of France, who for the con-
sideration of an income of three hundred thousand livres
would find all the past, present, and future barrels of the
Grandets no obstacle to a match. Others demurred to
this, and urged that both M. and Mme. des Grassins
came of a good family, that they had wealth enough for
anything, that Adolphe was a very good-looking, pretty
behaved young man, and that unless the Grandets had
a Pope's nephew somewhere in the background, they
ought to be satisfied with a match in every way so
suitable ; for they were nobodies after all ; all Saumur had
seen Grandet going about with an adze in his hands, and
moreover he had worn the red cap of Liberty in his time.

Eugenie Grand et 17

The more astute observers remarked that M. Cruchot
de Bonfons was free of the house in the High Street,
while his rival only visited there on Sundays. Some
maintained that Mme. des Grassins, being on more
intimate terms with the women of the house, had
opportunities of inculcating certain ideas which sooner
or later must conduce to her success. Others retorted
that the Abbe Cruchot had the most insinuating manner
in the world, and that with a churchman on one side and
a woman on the other the chances were about even.

' It is gown against cassock,' said a local wit.

Those whose memories went further back, said that
the Grandets were too prudent to let all that property go
out of the family. Mile. Eugenie Grandet of Saumur
would be married one of these days to the son of the
other M. Grandet of Paris, a rich wholesale wine
merchant. To these both Cruchotins and Grassinistes
were wont to reply as follows : —

' In the first place, the brothers have not met twice
in thirty years. Then M. Grandet of Paris is ambitious
for that son of his. He himself is mayor of his division
of the department, a deputy, a colonel of the National
Guard, and a judge of the tribunal of commerce. He
does not own to any relationship with the Grandets of
Saumur, and is seeking to connect himself with one of
Napoleon's dukes.'

What will not people say of an heiress ? Eugenie
Grandet was a stock subject of conversation for twenty
leagues round ; nay, in public conveyances, even as far
as Angers on the one hand and Blois on the other !

In the beginning of the year 181 1 the Cruchotins
gained a signal victory over the Grassinistes. The young
Marquis de Froidfond being compelled to realise his
capital, the estate of Froidfond, celebrated for its park
and its handsome chateau, was for sale ; together with
its dependent farms, rivers, fishponds, and forest ;
altogether it was worth three million francs. M. Cruchot,

B

1 8 Eugenie Grandet

President Cruchot, and the Abbe Cruchot by uniting
their forces had managed to prevent a proposed division
into small lots. The notary made an uncommonly good
bargain for his client, representing to the young marquis
that the purchase money of the small lots could only
be collected after endless trouble and expense, and that
he would have to sue a large proportion of the purchasers
for it ; while here was M. Grandet, a man whose credit
stood high, and who was moreover ready to pay for the
land at once in hard coin, it would be better to take
M. Grandet's offer. In this way the fair marquisate of
Froidfond was swallowed down by M. Grandet, who, to
the amazement of Saumur, paid for it in ready money
(deducting discount of course) as soon as the required
formalities were completed. The news of this trans-
action travelled far and wide ; it reached Orleans, it
was spoken of at Nantes.

M. Grandet went to see his chateau, and on this
wise ; a cart happened to be returning thither, so he
embraced this opportunity of visiting his newly acquired
property, and took a look round in the capacity of owner.
Then he returned to Saumur, well convinced that this
investment would bring him in a clear five per cent.,
and fired with a magnificent ambition ; he would add
his own bits of land to the marquisate of Froidfond, and
everything should lie within a ring fence. For the
present he would set himself to replenish his almost
exhausted coffers ; he would cut down every stick of
timber in his copses and forests, and fell the poplars in
his meadows.

It is easy after this explanation to understand all that '
was conveyed by the words, 'M. Grandet's house* — the
cold, dreary, and silent house at the upper end of the J
town, under the shadow of the ruined ramparts. |

Two pillars supported the arch above the doorway, '
and for these, as also for the building of the house itselfj
a porous crumbling stone peculiar to the district along j

Eugenie Grandet 19

the banks of the Loire had been employed, a kind of
tufa so soft that at most it scarcely lasts for two hundred
years. Rain and frost had gnawed numerous irregular
holes in the surface, with a curious effect ; the piers and
the voussoirs looked as though they were composed of
the vermicular stones often met with in French architec-
ture. The doorway might have been the portal of a
gaol. Above the arch there was a long sculptured
bas-relief of harder stone, representing the four Seasons,
four forlorn figures, aged, blackened, and weather worn.
Above the bas-relief there was a projecting ledge of
masonry where some chance -sown plants had taken
root ; yellow pellitory, bindweed, a plantain or two,
and a little cherry-tree, that even now had reached a
fair height.

The massive door itself was of dark oak, shrunk and
warped, and full of cracks ; but, feeble as it looked, it
was firmly held together by a series of iron nails with
huge heads, driven into the wood in a symmetrical
design. In the middle there was a small square grating
covered with rusty iron bars, which served as an excuse
for a door knocker which hung there from a ring, and
struck upon the menacing head a great iron bolt.
The knocker itself, oblong in shape, was of the kind
that our ancestors used to call a 'Jaquemart,' and not
unlike a huge note of admiration. If an antiquary
had examined it carefully, he might have found some
traces of the grotesque human head that it once re-
presented, but the features of the typical clown had
long since been effaced by constant wear. The little
grating had been made in past times of civil war, so
that the household might recognise their friends without
before admitting them, but now it afforded to inquisitive
eyes a view of a dank and gloom.y archway, and a flight
of broken steps leading to a not unpicturesque garden
shut in by thick walls through which the damp was
oozing, and a hedge of sickly-looking shrubs. The

20 Eugenic Grandet

walls were part of the old fortifications, and up above
upon the ramparts there were yet other gardens belong-
ing to some of the neighbouring houses.

A door beneath the arch of the gateway opened into
a large parlour, the principal room on the ground floor.
Fev/ people comprehend the importance of this apartment
in little towns in Anjou, Berri, and Touraine. The
parlour is also the hall, drawing-room, study, and
boudoir all in one ; it is the stage on which the drama
of domestic life is played, the very heart and centre of
the home. Hither the hairdresser repaired once in six
months to cut M. Grandet's hair. The tenants and the
cure, the sous-prefet and the miller's lad, were all alike
shown into this room. There were two windows which
looked out upon the street, the floor was boarded, the
walls were panelled from floor to ceiling, covered with
old carvings, and painted gray. The rafters were left
visible, and were likewise painted grey, the plaster in
intervening spaces was yellow with age

An old brass clock case inlaid with arabesques in
tortoise-shell stood on the chimney-piece, which was oi
white stone, and adorned with rude carvings. Above it
stood a mirror of a greenish hue, the edges were bevelled
in order to display the thickness of the glass, and reflected
a thin streak of coloured light into the room, which was
caught again by the polished surface of another mirror
of Damascus steel, which hung upon the wall.

Two branched sconces of gilded copper which adorned
either end of the chimney-piece answered a double pur-
pose. The branch roses which served as candle-sockets
were removable, and the main stem, fitted into an antique
copper contrivance on a bluish marble pedestal, did duty
as a candlestick for ordinary days.

The old-fashioned chairs were covered with tapestry,
on which the fables of La Fontaine were depicted ; but
a thorough knowledge of the author was required in order
to make out the subjects, for the colours had faded badly,

Eugenie Grandet 21

and the outlines of the figures were hardly visible through
a multitude of darns. Four sideboards occupied the four
corners of the room, each of these articles of furniture
terminating in a tier of very dirty shelves. An old inlaid
card- table with a chess-board marked out upon its surface
stood in the space between the two windows, and on the
wall, above the table, hung an oval barometer in a dark
wooden setting, adorned by a carved bunch of ribbons ;
they had been gilt ribbons once upon a time, but genera-
tions of flies had wantonly obscured the gilding, till its
existence had become problematical. Two portraits in
pastel hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. One
was believed to represent Mme. Grandet's grandfather,
old M. de la Bertelliere, as a lieutenant in the
Guards, and the other the late Mme. Gentillet, as a
shepherdess.

Crimson curtains of gros de lours were hung in the
windows and fastened back with silk cords and huge
tassels. This luxurious upholstery, so little in harmony
with the manners and customs of the Grandets, had been
included in the purchase of the house, like the pier-glass,
the brass timepiece, the tapestry-covered chairs, and the
rosewood corner sideboards. In the further window
stood a straw-bottomed chair, raised on blocks of wood,
so that Mme. Grandet could watch the passers-by as she
sat. A work-table of cherry wood, bleached and faded by
the light, filled the other window space, and close beside
it Eugenie Grandet's little armchair was set.

The Hves of mother and daughter had flowed on^
tranquilly for fifteen years. Day after day, from April
to November, they sat at work in the windows ; but the
first day of the latter month found them beside the fire,
where they took up their positions for the winter.
Grandet would not allow a fire to be lighted in the
room before that date, nor again after the 31st of March,
let the early days of spring or of autumn be cold as they
might. Big Nanon managed by stealth to fill a little

22 Eugenie Grandet

brazier with glowing ashes from the kitchen fire, and in
this way the chilly evenings of April and October were
rendered tolerable for Mme. and Mile. Grandet. All
the household linen was kept in repair by the mother
and daughter ; and so conscientiously did they devote
their days to this duty (no light task in truth), that if
Eugenie wanted to embroider a collarette for her mother
she was obliged to steal the time from her hours of
slumber, and to resort to a deception to obtain from her
father the candle by which she worked. For a long
while past it had been the miser's wont to dole out the
candles to his daughter and big Nanon in the same way
that he gave out the bread and the other matters daily
required by the household.

Perhaps big Nanon was the one servant in existence
who could and would have endured her master's tyrannous
rule. Every one in the town used to envy M. and
Mme. Grandet. ' Big Nanon,' so called on account oi
her height of five feet eight inches, had been a part of
the Grandet household for thirty-five years. She was
held to be one of the richest servants in Saumur, and this
on a yearly wage of seventy livres I The seventy livres
had accumulated for thirty-five years, and quite recently
Nanon had deposited four thousand livres with M.
Cruchot for the purchase of an annuity. This result of
a long and persevering course of thrift appealed to the
imagination — it seemed tremendous. There was not a
maid-servant in Saumur but was envious af the poor
woman, who by the time she had reached her sixtieth
year would have scraped together enough to keep herself
from want in her old age ; but no one thought of the
hard life and all the toil which had gone to the making
of that little hoard.

Thirty-five years ago, when Nanon had been a homely,
hard-featured girl of two-and- twenty, she had not been
able to find a place because her appearance had been so
much against her. Poor Nanon I it was really very

Eugenic Grandet 23

hard. If her head had been set on the shoulders of a
grenadier it would have been greatly admired, but there
is a fitness in things, and Nanon''s style of beauty was
inappropriate. She had been a herdswoman on a farm for
a time, till the farmhouse had been burnt down, and then
it was, that, full of the robust courage that shrinks from
nothing, she came to seek service in Saumur.

At that time M. Grandet was thinking of marriage, and
already determined to set up housekeeping. The girl,
who had been rebuffed from door to door, came under his
notice. He was a cooper, and therefore a good judge of
physical strength ; he foresaw at once how useful this
feminine Hercules could be, a strongly-made woman who
stood planted as firmly on her feet as an oak tree rooted in the
soil where it has grown for two generations, a woman with
square shoulders, large hips, and hands like a ploughman's,
and whose honesty was as unquestionable as her virtue.
He was not dismayed by a martial countenance, a dis-
figuring wart or two, a complexion like burnt clay, and a
pair of sinewy arms j neither did Nanon's rags alarm the
cooper, whose heart was not yet hardened against misery.
He took the poor girl into his service, gave her food,
clothes, shoes, and wages. Nanon found her hard life
not intolerably hard. Nay, she secretly shed tears of joy
at being so treated; she felt a sincere attachment for this
master, who expected as much from her as ever feudal
lord required of a serf.

Nanon did all the work of the house. She did the
cooking and the washing, carrying all the linen down
to the Loire and bringing it back on her shoulders. She
rose at daybreak and went to bed late. It was she who,
without any assistance, cooked for the vintagers in the
autumn, and looked sharply after the market-folk. She
watched over her master's property like a faithful dog,
and with a blind belief in him ; she obeyed his most
arbitrary commands without a murmur — his whims were
law to her.

24 Eugenie Grandet

After twenty years of service, in the famous year i8i i,
when the vintage had been gathered in after unheard-of
toil and trouble, Grandet made up his mind to present
Nanon with his old watch, the only gift she had ever
received from him. She certainly had the reversion ot
his old shoes (which happened to fit her), but as a rule
they were so far seen into already that they were of little
use to any one else, and could not be looked upon as a
present. Sheer necessity had made the poor girl so
penurious that Grandet grew quite fond of her at last,
and regarded her with the same sort of affection that a
man gives to his dog ; and as for Nanon, she cheerfully
wore the collar of servitude set round with spikes that
she had ceased to feel. Grandet might stint the day's
allowance of bread, but she did not grumble. The fare
might be scanty and poor, but Nanon's spirits did not
suffer, and her health appeared to benefit; there was
never any illness in that house.

And then Nanon was one of the family. She shared
every mood of Grandet's, laughed when he laughed, was
depressed when he was out of spirits, took her views of
the weather or of the temperature from him, and worked
with him and for him. This equality was an element of
sweetness which made up for many hardships in her lot.
Out in the vineyards her master had never said a word
about the small peaches, plums, or nectarines eaten under
the trees that are planted between the rows of vines.

' Come, Nanon, take as much as you like,* he would
say, in years when the branches were bending beneath
their load, and fruit was so abundant that the farmers
round about were forced to give* it to the pigs.

For the peasant girl, for the outdoor farm servant, who
had known nothing but harsh treatment from childhood,
for the girl who had been rescued from starvation by
charity, old Grandet's equivocal laughter was like a ray
of sunshine. Besides, Nanon's simple nature and limited
intelligence could only entertain one idea at a time ; and

Eugenic Grandet 25

during those thirty-five years of service one picture was
constantly present to her mind — she saw herself a bare-
footed girl in rags standing at the gate of M. Grandet's
timber yard, and heard the sound of the cooper's voice,
saying, ' What is it, lassie ? ' and the warmth of gratitude
filled her heart to-day as it did then. Sometimes, as he
watched her, the thought came up in Grandet's mind
how that no syllable of praise or admiration had ever
been breathed in her ears, that all the tender feelings that
a woman inspires had no existence for her, and that she
might well appear before God one day as chaste as the
Virgin Mary herself. At such times, prompted by a sudden
impulse of pity, he would exclaim, ' Poor Nanon ! *

The remark was always followed by an indescribable
look from the old servant. The words so spoken from
time to time were separate links in a long and unbroken
chain of friendship. But in this pity in the miser's soul,
which gave a thrill of pleasure to the lonely woman, there
was something indescribably revolting ; jit was a cold-
blooded pity that stirred t]j£ cooper's ft€art ; it was a
luxury that cost him nothing] But for Nanon it meant
the height of happiness ! Who will not likewise say,
* Poor Nanon ! ' God will one day know His angels by
the tones of their voices and by the sorrow hidden in their
hearts.

There were plenty of households in Saumur where
servants were better treated, but where their employers,
nevertheless, enjoyed small comfort in return. Wherefore
people asked, ' What have the Grandets done to that big
Nanon of theirs that she should be so attached to them ?
She would go through fire and water to serve them ! '

Her kitchen, with its barred windows that looked out
into the yard, was always clean, cold, and tidy, a thorough
miser's kitchen, in which nothing was allowed to be
wasted. When Nanon had washed her plates and dishes,
put the remains of the dinner into the safe, and raked
out the fire, she left her kitchen (which was only

26 '> 0 Eugenie Grandet

separated from the dining-room by the breadth of a
passage), and sat down to spin hemp in the company of
her employers, for a single candle must suffice for the
whole family in the evening. The serving-maid slept in
a little dark closet at the end of the passage, lit only by
a borrowed light. Nanon had an iron constitution and
sound health, which enabled her to sleep with impunity
year after year in this hole, where she could hear the
slightest sound that broke the heavy silence brooding day
and night over the house ; she lay like a watch-dog, with
one ear open ; she was never off duty, not even while she
slept.

Some description of the rest of the house will be
necessary in the course of the story in connection with
later events ; but the parlour, wherein all the splendour
and luxury of the house was concentrated, has been
sketched already, and the emptiness and bareness of the
upper rooms can be surmised for the present.

It was in the middle of November, in the year 1819,
twilight was coming on, and big Nanon was lighting a
fire in the parlour for the first time. It was a festival
day in the calendar of the Cruchotins and Grassinistes,
wherefore the six antagonists were preparing to set forth,
all armed cap-a-pie, for a contest in which each side
meant to outdo the other in proofs of friendship. The
Grandets' parlour was to be the scene of action. That
morning Mme. and Mile. Grandet, duly attended by
Nanon, had repaired to the parish church to hear mass.
All Saumur had seen them go, and every one had been
put in mind of the fact that it was Eugenie's birthday.
M. Cruchot, the Abbe Cruchot, and M. C. de Bonfons,
therefore, having calculated the hour when dinner would
be over, were eager to be first in the field, and to
arrive before the Grassinistes to congratulate Mile.
Grandet. All three carried huge bunches of flowers
gathered in their little garden plots, but the stalks of

Eugenie Grandet 27

the magistrate's bouquet were ingeniously bound round
by a white satin ribbon with a tinsel fringe at the ends.

In the morning M. Grandet had gone to Eugenie's
room before she had left her bed, and had solemnly pre-
sented her with a rare gold coin. It was her father's
wont to surprise her in this way twice every year — once
on her birthday, once on the equally memorable day of
her patron saint. Mme. Grandet usually gave her
daughter a winter or a summer dress, according to cir-
cumstances. The two dresses and two gold coins, which
she received on her father's birthday and on New Year's
Day, altogether amounted to an annual income of nearly
a hundred crowns ; Grandet loved to watch the money
accumulating in her hands. He did not part with his
money ; he felt that it was only like taking it out of one
box and putting it into another ; and besides, was it not,
so to speak, fostering a proper regard for gold in his
heiress ? she was being trained in the way in which she
should go. Now and then he asked for an account of
her wealth (formerly swelled by gifts from the La
Bertellieres), and each time he did so he used to tell her,
* This will be your dozen when you are married.'

The dozen is an old-world custom which has lost none
of its force, and is still religiously adhered to in several
midland districts in France. In Berri or Anjou when a
daughter is married, it is incumbent upon her parents, or
upon her bridegroom's family, to give her a purse contain-
ing either a dozen, or twelve dozen, or twelve hundred
gold or silver coins, the amount varying with the means
of the family. The poorest herd-girl would not be
content without her dozen when she married, even if she
could only bring twelve pence as a dower. They talk
even yet at Issoudun of a fabulous dozen once given to a
rich heiress, which consisted of a hundred and forty-four
Portuguese moidores ; and when Catherine de Medicis
was married to Henry 11., her uncle, Clement vii., gave
the bride a dozen antique gold medals of priceless value.

28 Eugenie Grandcf

Eugenie wore her new dress at dinner, and looked
prettier than usual in it ; her father was in high good
humour.

' Let us have a fire,' he cried, ' as it is Eugenie's birth-
day ! It will be a good omen.'

' Mademoiselle will be married within the year,
that 's certain,' said big Nanon, as she removed the
remains of a goose, that pheasant of the coopers of
Saumur. '

'There is no one that I know of in Saumur who
would do for Eugenie,' said Mme. Grandet, with a timid
glance at her husband, a glance that revealed how com-
pletely her husband's tyranny had broken the poor
woman's spirit.

Grandet looked at his daughter, and said merrily,
' We must really begin to think about her; the little girl
is twenty-three years old to-day.'
. Neither Eugenie nor her mother said a word, but they
A exchanged glances ; they understood each other.

Mme. Grandet's face was thin and wrinkled and
yellow as saffron ; she was awkward and slow in her
movements, one of those beings who seem born to be
tyrannised over. She was a large-boned v^oman, with a
large nose, large eyes, and a prominent forehead ; there
seemed to be, at first sight, some dim suggestion of a
resemblance between her and some shrivelled, spongy,
dried-up fruit. The few teeth that remained to her
were dark and discoloured ; there were deep lines fretted
about her mouth, and her chin was something after
the ' nut-cracker ' pattern. She was a good sort of
woman, and a La Bertelliere to the backbone. The
Abbe Cruchot had more than once found occasion to
tell her that she had not been so bad looking when
she was young, and she did not disagree with him.
An angelic sweetness of disposition, the helpless meek-
ness of an insect in the hands of cruel children, a sincere
piety, a kindly heart, and an even temper that nothing

Eugenie Grandet 29

could ruffle or sour, had gained universal respect and pity
for her.

Her appearance might provoke a smile, but she had
brought her husband more than three hundred thousand
francs, partly as her dowry, partly through bequests.
Yet Grandet never gave his wife more than six francs
at a time for pocket money, and she always regarded
herself as dependent upon her husband. The meek
gentleness of her nature forbade any revolt against his
tyranny ; but so deeply did she feel the humiliation of her
position, that she had never asked him for a sou, and when
M. Cruchot demanded her signature to any document,
she always gave it without a word. This foolish sensitive
pride, which Grandet constantly and unwittingly hurt,
this magnanimity which he was quite incapable of under-
standing, were Mme. Grandet's dominant characteristics.)

Her dress never varied. Her gown was always of the
same dull, greenish shade of laventine, and usually lasted
her nearly a twelvemonth ; the large handkerchief at
her throat was of some kind of cotton material j she wore
a straw bonnet, and was seldom seen without a black
silk apron. She left the house so rarely that her walking
shoes were seldom worn out ; indeed, her requirements
were very few, she never wanted anything for herself.
Sometimes it would occur to Grandet that it was a long
while since he had given the last six francs to his wife,
and his conscience would prick him a little ; and after
the vintage, when he sold his wine, he always demanded
pin-money for his wife over and above the bargain.
These four or five louis out of the pockets of the Dutch
or Belgian merchants were Mme. Grandet's only certain
source of yearly income. But although she received her
five louis, her husband would often say to her, as if they
had had one common purse, ' Have you a few sous that
you can lend me ? ' and she, poor woman, glad that it
was in her power to do anything for the man whom her
confessor always taught her to regard as her lord and

\

JO Eugenie Grandet

master, used to return to him more than one crown out
of her little store in the course of the winter. Every
month, when Grandet disbursed the five-franc piece
which he allowed his daughter for needles, thread, and
small expenses of dress, he remarked to his wife (after
he had buttoned up his pocket), ' And how about you,
mother ; do you want anything ? ' And with a mother's
dignity Mme. Grandet would answer, 'We will talk
about that by-and-by, dear.'

Her magnanimity was entirely lost upon Grandet ; he
considered that he did very handsomely by his wife. The
philosophic mind contemplating the Nanons, the Mme.
Grandets, the Eugenics of this life, holds that the Author
of the universe is a profound satirist, and who will
quarrel with the conclusion of the philosophic mind ?
After the dinner, when the question of Eugenie's
marriage had been raised for the first time, Nanon went
up to M. Grandet's room to fetch a bottle of black-
currant cordial, and very nearly lost her footing on the
staircase as she came down.

' Great stupid ! Are you going to take to tumbling
about ? ' inquired her master.

* It is all along of the step, sir ; it gave way. The
staircase isn't safe.'

'She is quite right,' said Mme. Grandet. *You
ought to have had it mended long ago. Eugenie all but
sprained her foot on it yesterday.'

' Here,' said Grandet, who saw that Nanon looked
very pale, 'as to-day is Eugenie's birthday, and you have
nearly fallen downstairs, take a drop of black currant
cordial ; that will put you right again.'

' I deserve it, too, upon my word,' said Nanon.
'Many a one would have broken the bottle in my
place ; I should have broken my elbow first, holding
it up to save it.'

* Poor Nanon ! ' muttered Grandet, pouring out the
black-currant cordial for her.

Eugenie Grandet 31

•Did you hurt yourself ?* asked Eugenie, looking at
her in concern.

' No, I managed to break the fall ; I came down on
my side.'

' Well,' said Grandet, ' as to-day is Eugenie's birthday,
I will mend your step for you. Somehow, you women
folk cannot manage to put your foot down in the corner,
where it is still soHd and safe.'

Grandet took up the candle, left the three women .
without any other illumination in the room than the ^
bright dancing firelight, and went to the bakehouse,
where tools, nails, and odd pieces of wood were kept.

' Do you want any help ? ' Nanon called to him,
when the first blow sounded on the staircase.

' No ! no ! I am an old hand at it,' answered the
cooper.

At this very moment, while Grandet was doing the
repairs himself to his worm-eaten staircase, and whistling
with all his might as memories of his young days came
up in his nund, the three Cruchots knocked at the
house door.

' Oh, it 's you, is it, M. Cruchot .? * asked Nanon, as
she took a look through the small square grating.

' Yes,' answered the magistrate.

Nanon opened the door, and the glow of the firelight
shone on the three Cruchots, who were groping in the
archway.

* Oh ! you have come to help us keep her birthday,'
Nanon said, as the scent of flowers reached her.

' Excuse me a moment, gentlemen,' cried Grandet, who
recognised the voices of his acquaintances ; ' I am your
very humble servant ! There is no pride about me j
I am patching up a broken stair here myself.'

' Go on, go on, M. Grandet ! The charcoal burner is
mayor in his own house,' said the magistrate sententiously.
Nobody saw the allusion, and he had his laugh all to
himself.

J 2 Eugenic Grandet

Mme. and Mile. Grandet rose to greet them. The
magistrate took advantage of the darkness to speak to
Eugenie.

'Will you permit m.e, mademoiselle, on the anniversary
of your birthday, to wish you a long succession of
prosperous years, and may you for long preserve the
health vv^ith w^hich you are blessed at present.'

He then offered her such a bouquet of flowers as
was seldom seen in Saumur ; and taking the heiress by
both arms, gave her a kiss on either side of the throat,
a fervent salute which brought the colour into Eugenie's
face. The magistrate was tall and thin, somewhat
resembling a rusty nail ; this was his notion of paying
court.

' Do not disturb yourselves,' said Grandet, coming back
into the room. *Fine doings these of yours, M. le
President, on high days and holidays ! '

'With mademoiselle beside him every day would be
a holiday for my nephew,' answered the Abbe Cruchot.
also armed with a bouquet ; and with that the Abbe
kissed Eugenie's hand. As for M. Cruchot, he kissed
her unceremoniously on both cheeks, saying, ' This sort
of thing makes us feel older, eh ? A whole year older
every twelve months.'

Grandet set down the candle in front of the brass
clock on the chimney-piece ; whenever a joke amused
him he kept on repeating it till it was worn threadbare ;
he did so now.

' As to-day is Eugenie's birthday,' he said, ' let us have
an illumination.'

He carefully removed the branches from the two
sconces, fitted the sockets into either pedestal, took from
Nanon's hands a whole new candle wrapped in a scrap
of paper, fixed it firmly in the socket, and lighted it.
Then he went over to his wife and took up his
position beside her, looking by turns at his daughter, his
friends, and the two lighted candles.

Eugenie Grandet 33

The Abbe Cruchot was a fat, dumpy little man with
a well-worn sandy peruke. His peculiar type of face
might have belonged to some old lady whose life is
spent at the card table. At this moment he was stretch-
ing out his feet and displaying a very neat and strong
pair of shoes with silver buckles on them.

'The des Grassins have not come round ? * he asked,

' Not yet,* answered Grandet.

* Are they sure to come ? * put in the old notary,
with various contortions of a countenance as full of
holes as a colander.

' Oh ! yes, I think they will come,' said Mme. Grandet.

' Is the vintage over ? ' asked President de Bonfons,
addressing Grandet ; ' are all your grapes gathered ? *

' Yes, everywhere ! ' answered the old vinegrower,
rising and walking up and down the length of the room,
he straightened himself up as he spoke with a conscious
pride that appeared in that word ' everywhere.'

As he passed by the door that opened into the
passage, Grandet caught a glimpse of the kitchen ; the
fire was still alight, a candle was burning there, and
big Nanon was about to begin her spinning by the
hearth ; she did not wish to intrude upon the birth-
day party.

' Nanon ! ' he called, stepping out into the passage,
' Nanon ! why ever don't you rake out the fire ; put
out the candle and come in here ! Pardieu ! the room
is large enough to hold us all.'

' But you are expecting grand visitors, sir.'

' Have you any objection to them ? They are all
descended from Adam just as much as you are.'

Grandet went back to the president.

'Have you sold your wine ?' he inquired.

' Not I ; I am holding it. If the wine is good now,
it will be better still in two years' time. The growers, as
you know, of course, are in a ring, and mean to keep
prices up. The Belgians shall not have it all their own

c

34 Eugenie Grandet

way this year. And if they go away, well and good, let
them go ; they will come back again.'

' Yes ; but we must hold firm,' said Grandet in a
tone that made the magistrate shudder.

' Suppose he should sell his wine behind our backs ? '
he thought.

At that moment another knock at the door announced
the des Grassins, and interrupted a quiet talk between
Mme. Grandet and the Abbe Cruchot.

Mme. des Grassins was a dumpy, lively, little person
with a pink-and-white complexion, one of those women
for whom the course of life in a country town has flowed
on with almost claustral tranquillity, and who, thanks to
this regular and virtuous existence, are still youthful at
the age of forty. They are something like the late roses in
autumn, which are fair and pleasant to the sight, but the
almost scentless petals have a pinched look, there is a vague
suggestion of coming winter about them. She dressed
tolerably well, her gowns came from Paris, she was a
leader of society in Saumur, and received on certain
evenings. Her husband had been a quartermaster in
the Imperial Guard, but he had retired from the army
with a pension, after being badly wounded at AusterHtz.
In spite of his consideration for Grandet, he still retained,
or affected to retain, the bluff manners of a soldier.

' Good day, Grandet,' he said, holding out his hand to
the cooper with that wonted air of superiority with which
he eclipsed the Cruchot faction. ' Mademoiselle,' he
added, addressing Eugenie, after a bow to Mme. Grandet,
* you are always charming, ever good and fair, and what
more can one wish you ? '

With that he presented her with a small box, which a
servant was carrying, and which contained a Cape heath, a
plant only recently introduced into Europe, and very rare.

Mme. des Grassins embraced Eugenie very affec-
tionately, squeezed her hand, and said, ' I have com-
missioned Adolphe to give you my little birthda

Eugenie Grandet 35

A tall, fair-haired young man, somewhat pallid and
weakly in appearance, came forward at this ; his manners
were passably good, although he seemed to be shy. He
had just completed his law studies in Paris, where he had
managed to spend eight or ten thousand francs over and
above his allowance. He now kissed Eugenie on both
cheeks, and laid a workbox with gilded silver fittings
before her ; it was a showy, trumpery thing enough, in
spite of the little shield on the lid, on which an E. G.
had been engraved in Gothic characters, a detail which
gave an imposing air to the whole. Eugenie raised the
lid with a little thrill of pleasure, the happiness was as
complete as it was unlooked for — the happiness that
brings bright colour into a young girl's face and makes
her tremble with delight. Her eyes turned to her father
as if to ask whether she might accept the gift ; M.
Grandet answered the mute inquiry with a ' Take it, my
daughter ! ' in tones which would have made the reputa-
tion of an actor. The three Cruchots stood dumb-
founded when they saw the bright, delighted glance that
Adolphe des Grassins received from the heiress, who
seemed to be dazzled by such undreamed-of splendours.

M. des Grassins offered his snuff-box to Grandet,
took a pinch himself, brushed off a few stray specks from
his blue coat and from the ribbon of the Legion ot
Honour at his button-hole, and looked at the Cruchots,
as who should say, 'Parry that thrust if you can!*
Mme. des Grassins' eyes fell on the blue glas^ jars in
which the Cruchots' bouquets had been set. She looked
at their gifts with the innocent air of pretended interest
which a satirical woman knows how to assume upon
occasion. It was a delicate crisis. The Abbe got up
and left the others, who were forming a circle round the
fire, and joined Grandet in his promenade up and down
the room. When the two elders had reached the em-
brasure of the window at the further end, away from the
group by the fire, the priest said in the miser's ear,

^6 Eugenie Grandet

' Those people yonder are throwing their money out of
the windows.'

' What does that matter to me, so long as it comes
my way ? * the old vinegrower answered.

' If you had a mind to give your daughter golden
scissors, you could very well afford it,' said the Abbe.

' I shall give her something better than scissors,'
Grandet answered.

' What an idiot my nephew is ! ' thought the Abbe,
as he looked at the magistrate, whose dark, ill-favoured
countenance was set off to perfection at that moment by
a shock head of hair. ' Why couldn't he have hit on
some expensive piece of foolery ? '

' We will take a hand at cards, Mme. Grandet,' said
Mme. des Grassins.

' But as we are all here, there are enough of us for two
tables . . .'

* As to-day is Eugenie's birthday, why not all play
together at loto ? ' said old Grandet ; ' these two children
could join in the game.'

The old cooper, who never played at any game what-
e\er, pointed to his daughter and Adolphe.

* Here, Nanon, move the tables out.'

' We will help you. Mademoiselle Nanon,' said Mme.
des Grassins cheerfully ; she was thoroughly pleased,
because she had pleased Eugenie.

' I have never seen anything so pretty anywhere,' the
heiress had said to her. ' I have never beenjso happy in
my life before.'

' It was Adolphe who chose it,' said Mme. des Grassins
in the girl's ear ; ' he brought it from Paris.'

' Go your ways, accursed scheming woman,' muttered
the magistrate to himself ' If you or your husband
ever find yourselves in a court of law, you shall be hard
put to it to gain the day.'

The notary, calmly seated in his corner, watched the
Abbe, and said to himself, ' The des Grassins may do

Eugenie Grandet 37

what they like ; my fortune and my brother's and my
nephew*s fortunes altogether mount up to eleven hundred
thousand francs. The des Grassins, at the very most,
have only half as much, and they have a daughter. Let
them give whatever they like, all will be ours some day
— the heiress and her presents too.'

Two tables were in readiness by half-past eight o'clock.
Mme. des Grassins, with her winning ways, had succeeded
in placing her son next to Eugenie. The actors in the
scene, so commonplace in appearance, so full of interest
beneath the surface, each provided with slips of paste-
board of various colours and blue glass counters, seemed
to be listening to the little jokes made by the old notary,
who never drew a number without making some remark
upon it, but they were all thinking of M. Grandet's
millions. The old cooper himself eyed the group with a
certain self-complacency ; he looked at Mme. des Grassins 1
with her pink feathers and fresh toilette, at the banker's I
soldierly face, at Adolphe, at the magistrate, at the /
Abbe and the notary, and within himself he said: 'They
are all after my crowns ; that is what they are here for.
It is for my daughter that they come to be bored here.
Aha ! and my daughter is for none of them, and all
these people are so many harpoons to be used in my
fishing.'

The merriment of this family party, the laughter, only
sincere when it came from Eugenie or her mother, and
to which the low whirring of Nanon's spinning-wheel
made an accompaniment, the sordid meanness playing
for high stakes, the young girl herself, like some rare
bird, the innocent victim of its high value, tracked down
and snared by specious pretences of friendship ; taken /
altogether, it was a sorry comedy that was being played / j
in the old grey-painted parlour, by the dim light of the / ^^
two candles. Was it not, however, a drama of all time,
played out everywhere all over the world, but here
reduced to its simplest expression ? Old Grandet

2% Eugenie Grandet

towered above the other actors, turning all this sham
affection to his own account, and reaping a rich harvest
from this simulated friendship. His face hovered above
the scene like the interpretation of an evil dream. He
was like the incarnation of the one god who yet finds
worshippers in modern times, of Money and the power
of wealth.

With him the gentler and sweeter impulses of human

Hfe only occupied the second place; but they so filled

three purer hearts there, that there was no room in them

for other thoughts — the hearts of Nanon, and of Eugenie

and her mother. And yet, how much ignorance mingled

^ with their innocent simplicity I Eugenie and her mother

/" knew nothing of Grandet's wealth ; they saw everything

through a medium of dim ideas peculiar to their own

narrow world, and neither desired nor despised money,

accustomed as they were to do without it. Nor were they

conscious of an uncongenial atmosphere ; the strength of

their feelings, their inner life, made of them a strange

exception in this gathering, wholly intent upon material

J , ' interests. Appalling is the condition of man ; there is no

-^V* / drop of happiness in his lot but has its source in ignorance.

Just as Mme. Grandet had won sixteen sous, the
largest amount that had ever been punted beneath that
roof, and big Nanon was beaming with delight at the
sight of Madame pocketing that splendid sum, there was
a knock at the house-door, so sudden and so loud that
the women started on their chairs.

' No one in Saumur would knock in that way ! * said
the notary.

' What do they thump like that for ? ' said Nanon.
* Do they want to break our door down ? '

' Who the devil is it ? * cried Grandet.

Nanon took up one of the two candles and went to
open the door, Grandet followed her.

' Grandet ! Grandet ! * cried his wife ; a vague terror
seized her, and she hurried to the door of the room.

Eugenie Grandet 39

The players all looked at each other.

* Suppose we go too ? ' said M. des Grassins. *That
knock meant no good, it seemed to me.'

But M. des Grassins scarcely caught a gHmpse of a
young man's face and of a porter who was carrying two
huge trunks and an assortment of carpet bags, before
Grandet turned sharply on his wife and said —

' Go back to your loto, Mme. Grandet, and leave me to
settle with this gentleman here.'

With that he slammed the parlour door, and the loto
players sat down again, but they were too much excited
to go on with the game.

' Is it any one who lives in Saumur, M. des Grassins ? '
his wife inquired.

' No, a traveller.'

' Then he must have come from Paris.'

'As a matter of fact,' said the notary, drawing out a
heavy antique watch, a couple of fingers breadth in
thickness, and not unlike a Dutch punt in shape, ' as a
matter of fact, it is nine o'clock. Peste! the mail coach
is not often behind time.'

' Is he young looking ? ' put in the Abbe Cruchot.

'Yes,' answered M. des Grassins. 'The luggage
he has with him must weigh three hundred kilos at
least.'

' Nanon does not come back,' said Eugenie.

' It must be some relation of yours,' the President
remarked.

' Let us put down our stakes,' said Mme. Grandet
gently. ' M. Grandet was vexed, I could tell that by the
sound of his voice, and perhaps he would be displeased
if he came in and found us all discussing his affairs.'

'Mademoiselle,' Adolphe addressed his neighbour,
* it will be your cousin Grandet no doubt, a very nice-
looking young fellow whom I once met at a ball at M.
de Nucingen's.'

Adolphe went no further, his mother stamped on

/

4.0 Eugenie Grandet

his foot under the table. Aloud, she asked him for two
sous for his stake, adding in an undertone, meant only
for his ears, ' Will you hold your tongue, you great silly ! '

They could hear the footsteps of Nanon and the
? porter on the staircase, but Grandet returned to the
■ room almost immediately, and just behind him came the
traveller who had excited so much curiosity, and loomed
so large in the imaginations of those assembled ; indeed,
his sudden descent into their midst might be compared
to the arrival of a snail in a beehive, or the entrance of a
peacock into some humdrum village poultry-yard.^

'Take a seat near the fire,' said Grandet, addressing
the stranger.

The young man looked round the room and bowed
very gracefully before seating himself. The men rose
and bowed politely in return, the women curtseyed rather
ceremoniously.

' You are feeling cold, I expect, sir,' said Mme.
Grandet ; ' you have no doubt come from '

' Just like the women ! ' broke in the goodman, looking
up from the letter which he held in his hand. ' Do let
the gentleman have a httle peace.'

' But, father, perhaps the gentleman wants something
^fter his journey,' said Eugenie.

' He has a tongue in his head,' the vinegrower
answered severely.

The stranger alone felt any surprise at this scene, the
rest were quite used to the worthy man and his arbitrary
behaviour. But after the two inquiries had received
these summary answers, the stranger rose and stood with
his back to the fire, held out a foot to the blaze, so as to
warm the soles of his boots, and said to Eugenie, ' Thank
you, cousin, I dined at Tours. And I do not require
anything,' he added, glancing at Grandet ; ' I am not in
the least tired.'

' Do you come from Paris ? ' (it was Mme. des Grassins
who now put the inquiry).

Eugenie Grandet 41

M. Charles (for this was the name borne by the son of
M. Grandet of Paris), hearing some one question him,
took out an eyeglass that hung suspended from his neck
by a cord, fixed it in his eye, made a deliberate survey of
the objects upon the table and of the people sitting
round it, eyed Mme. des Grassins very coolly, and said
(when he had completed his survey), ' Yes, madame. —
You are playing at loto, aunt,' he added ; ' pray go
on with your game, it is too amusing to be broken
ofF . . . '

' I knew it was the cousin,' thought Mme. des Grassins,
and she gave him a side-glance from time to time.

'Forty-seven,' cried the old Abbe. 'Keep count.
Mme. des Grassins, that is your number, is it not ? '

M. des Grassins put down a counter on his wife's card;
the lady herself was not thinking of loto, her mind was
full of melancholy forebodings, she was watching Eugenie
and the cousin from Paris. She saw how the heiress
now and then stole a glance at her cousin, and the
banker's wife could easily discover in those glances a

J crescendo of amazement or of curiosity*— :

f There was certainly a strange contrast between M.
Charles Grandet, a handsome young man of two-and-
twenty, and the worthy provincials, who, tolerably
disgusted already with his aristocratic airs, were scorn-
fully studying the stranger with a view to making game
of him. This requires some explanation.

At two-and-twenty childhood is not so very far away,
/ and youth, on the borderland, has not finally and for ever
put away childish things ; Charles Grandet's vanity was
childish, but perhaps ninety-nine young men out of a
hundred would have been carried away by it and behaved
exactly as he did.

Some days previously his rather had bidden him to go
on a visit of several months to his uncle in Saumur ;
perhaps M. Grandet (of Paris) had Eugenie in his mind.
Charles, launched in this way into a county town for

42 Eugenie Grandet

the first time in his life, had his own ideas. He would
make his appearance in provincial society with all the
superiority of a young man of fashion ; he would reduce
the neighbourhood to despair by his splendour ; he would
7 inaugurate a new epoch, and introduce all the latest and
most ingenious refinement of Parisian luxury. To be
brief, he meant to devote more time at Saumur than in
Paris to the care of his nails, and to carry out schemes
of elaborate and studied refinements in dress at his
leisure ; there should be none of the not ungraceful
negligence of attire which a young man of fashion some-
times affects.

So Charles took with him into the country the most
charming of shooting costumes, the sweetest thing in
hunting-knives and sheaths, and a perfect beauty of a
rifle. He packed up a most tasteful collection of waist-
coats ; gray, white, black, beetle-green shot with gold,
speckled and spangled ; double waistcoats, waistcoats
with rolled collars, stand-up collars, turned-down collars,
open at the throat, buttoned up to the chin with a row of
gold buttons. He took examples of all the ties and
cravats in favour at that epoch. He took two of
Buisson's coats. He took his finest linen, and the dress-
ing-case with gold fittings that his mother had given
him. He took all his dandy's paraphernalia, not forget-
ting an enchanting Httle writing-case, the gift of the
most amiable of women (for him at least), a great lady
whom he called Annette, and who at that moment was
travelling with her husband in Scotland, a victim to
suspicions which demanded the temporary sacrifice of
her happiness.

In short, his cargo of Parisian frivolities was as com-
plete as it was possible to make it ; nothing had been
omitted, from the horse-whip, useful as a preliminary, to
the pair of richly chased and mounted pistols that ter-
minate a duel. There was all the ploughing gear
required by a young idler in the field of life.

Eugenie Grandet 43

His rather had told him to travel alone and modestly,
and he had obeyed. He had come in the coupe of the
diligence, which he secured all to himself; and was not
ill-satisfied to save wear, in this way, to a smart and
comfortable travelling carriage which he had ordered,
and in which he meant to go to meet his Annette, the
aforesaid great lady who . . . etc., and whom he was
to rejoin next June at Baden-Baden.

Charles expected to meet scores of people during his
visit to his uncle ; he expected to have some shooting on
his uncle's land ; he expected, in short, to find a large
house on a large estate ; he had not thought to find his
relatives in Saumur at all ; he had only found out that
they lived there by asking the way to Froidfond, and
even after this discovery he expected to see them in a
large mansion. But whether his uncle lived in Saumur
or at Froidfond, he was determined to make his first
appearance properly, so he had assumed a most fascinating
travelling costume, made with the simplicity that is the
perfection of art, a most adorable creation, to use the
word which in chose days expressed superlative praise of
ihe special qualities of a thing or of a man. At Tours
he had summoned a hairdresser, and his handsome chest-
nut hair was curled afresh. He had changed his linen and
put on a black satin cravat, which, in combination with
a round collar, made a very becoming setting for a pale
and satirical face. A long overcoat, fitting tightly at the
waist, gave glimpses of a cashmere waistcoat with a rolled
collar, and beneath this again a second waistcoat of some
white material. His watch was carelessly thrust into a
side pocket, and save in so for as a gold chain secured it
to a buttonhole, its continuance there appeared to be
purely accidental. His grey trousers were buttoned at
the sides, and the seams were adorned with designs
embroidered in black silk. A pair of grey gloves had
nothing to dread from contact with a gold-headed cane,
which he managed to admiration. A discriminating

\

44 Eugenie Grandet

taste was evinced throughout the costume, and shone con-
spicuous in the traveUing cap. Only a Parisian, and a
Parisian moreover from some remote and lofty sphere,
could trick himself out in such attire, and bring all its
absurd details into harmony by coxcombry carried to
such a pitch that it ceased to be ridiculous ; this young
man carried it off, moreover, with a swaggering air
befitting a dead shot, conscious of the possession of a
handsome pair of pistols and the good graces of an
Annette.

If, moreover, you wish to thoroughly understand the
surprise with which the Saumurois and the young
Parisian mutually regarded each other, you must behold,
as did the former, the radiant vision of this elegant
traveller shining in the gloomy old room, as well as the
figures that composed the family picture that met the
stranger's eyes. There sat the Cruchots ; try to imagine
them.

To begin with, all three took snufF, with utter dis-
regard of personal cleanliness or of the black deposit with
which their shirt frills were encrusted. Their limp silk
handkerchiefs were twisted into a thick rope, and wound
tightly about their necks. Their collars were crumpled
and soiled, their Hnen was dingy ; there was such a vast
accumulation of underwear in their presses, that it was
only necessary to wash twice in the year, and the linen
acquired a bad colour with lying by. Age and ugliness
might have wrought together to produce a masterpiece
in them. Their hard-featured, furrowed, and wrinkled
faces were in keeping with their creased and threadbare
clothing, and both they and their garments were worn,
shrunken, twisted out of shape. Dwellers in country
places are apt to grow more or less slovenly and
careless of their appearance ; they cease by degrees to
dress for others ; the career of a pair of gloves is in-
definitely prolonged, there is a general want of freshness
and a decided neglect of detail. The slovenliness of the

Eugenie Grandet 43

Cruchots, therefore, was not conspicuous; they were in
harmony with the rest of the company, for there was one
point on which both Cruchotins and Grassinistes were
agreed for the most part — they held the fashions in
horror.

The Parisian assumed his eyeglass again in order to
study the curious accessories of the room ; his eyes
travelled over the rafters in the ceiling, over the dingy
i^anels covered with fly-spots in sufficient abundance to
punctuate the whole of the Encyclopedie methodique and
the Moniteur besides. The loto-players looked up at
this and stared at him; if a giraffe had been in their
midst they could hardly have gazed with more eager
curiosity. Even M. des Grassins and his son, who had
beheld a man of fashion before in the course of their
lives, shared in the general amazement ; perhaps they
felt the indefinable influence of the general feeling about
the stranger, perhaps they regarded him not unapprov-
ingly. 'You see how they dress in Paris,' their satirical
glances seemed to say to their neighbours.

One and all were at liberty to watch Charles at their
leisure, without any fear of ofl^ending the master of the
house, for by this time Grandet was deep in a long letter
which he held in his hand. He had taken the only
candle from the table beside him, without any regard for
the convenience of his guests or for their pleasure. /

It seemed to Eugenie, who had never in her life beheld
such a paragon, that her cousin was some seraphic vision, tfr
some creature fallen from the skies. The perfume '
exhaled by those shining locks, so gracefully curled, was
delightful to her. She would fain have passed her
fingers over the delicate, smooth surface of those
wonderful gloves. She envied Charles his little hands,
his complexion, the youthful refinement of his features.
In fact, the sight of her cousin gave her the same sensa- .

tions of exquisite pleasure that might be aroused in a
young man by the contemplation of the fanciful portraits

4.6 Eugenie Grandet

of ladies in English Keepsakes^ portraits drawn by Westall
and engraved by Finden, with a burin so skilful that you
fear to breathe upon the vellum surface lest the celestial
vision should disappear. And yet — how should the im-
pression produced by a young exquisite upon an ignorant
girl whose life was spent in darning stockings and mend-
y ing her father's clothes, in the dirty wainscoted window

embrasure whence, in an hour, she saw scarcely one
passer-by in the silent street, how should her dim im-
pressions be conveyed by such an image as this ?

Charles drew from his pocket a handkerchief em-
broidered by the great lady who was travelling in
Scotland. It was a dainty piece of work wrought by
love, in hours that were lost to love ; Eugenie gazed at
her cousin, and wondered, was he really going to use it ?
Charles's manners, his way of adjusting his eyeglass, his
superciliousness, his affectations, his manifest contempt
for the little box which had but lately given so much
pleasure to the wealthy heiress, and which in his eyes
seemed to be a very absurd piece of rubbish ; everything,
in short, which had given offence to the Cruchots and
the Grassinistes pleased Eugenie so much that she lay
awake for long that night thinking about this phoenix of
a cousin.

Meanwhile the numbers were drawn but languidly,
and very soon the loto came to an end altogether. Big
Nanon came into the room and said aloud, 'Madame,
you will have to give me some sheets to make the
gentleman's bed.'

Mme. Grandet disappeared with Nanon, and Mme. des
Grassins said in a low voice, ' Let us keep our sous, and
give up the game.'

Each player took back his coin from the chipped saucer
which held the stakes. Then there was a general stir,
and a wheeling movement in the direction of the fire.

' Is the game over ? ' inquired Grandet, still reading his
letter.

Eugenie Grandet 47

* Yes, yes,' answered Mme. des Grassins, seating her-
self next to Charles.

Eugenic left the room to help her mother and Nanon,
moved by a thought that came with the vague feeling
that stirredther heart for the first time. If she had been
questioned by a skilful confessor, she would have no doubt
admitted that her thought was neither for Nanon nor for
her mother, but that she was seized with a restless and
urgent desire to see that all was right in her cousin's
room, to busy herself on her cousin's account, to see that
nothing was forgotten, to think of everything he might
require, and to make sure that it was there, to make
certain that everything was as neat and pretty as might
be. She alone, so Eugenie thought already, could enter
'nto her cousin's ideas and understand his tastes.

As a matter of fact, she came just at the right moment.
Her mother and Nanon were about to leave the room in
the belief that it was all in readiness; Eugenie convinced
them in a moment that everything was yet to do. She
filled Nanon's head with these ideas : the sheets had not
been aired, Nanon must bring the warming-pan, there
were ashes, there was a fire downstairs. She herself
covered the old table with a clean white cloth, and told
Nanon to mind and be sure to change it every morning.
There must be a good fire in the room ; she overcame her
mother's objections, she induced Nanon to put a good
supply of firewood outside in the passage, and to say
nothing about it to her father. She ran downstairs into
the parlour, sought in one of the sideboards for an old
japanned tray which had belonged to the late M. de la
Bertelliere, and from the same source she procured a
hexagonal crystal glass, a little gilt spoon with almost
all the gilding rubbed oiF, and an old slender-necked glass
bottle with Cupids engraved upon it ; these she deposited
in triumph on a corner of the chimney-piece. More ideas
had crowded upin her mind during thatonequarterofan hour
than in all the years since she had come into the world.

48 Eugenie Graridet

' Mamma,' she began, ' he will never be able to beai
the smell of a tallow candle. Suppose that we buy a wax
candle •* '

She fled, lightly as a bird, to find her purse, and drew
thence the five francs which she had received for the
month's expenses.

' Here, Nanon, be quick.'

' But what will your father say ? '

This dreadful objection was raised by Mme. Grandet,
when she saw her daughter with an old Sevres china
sugar-basin which Grandet had brought back with him
from the chateau at Froidfond.

' And where is the sugar to come from ? ' she went on.
' Are you mad ? '

' Nanon can easily buy the sugar when she goes for
the candle, mamma.'

' But how about your father ? '

'Is it a right thing that his nephew should not have a j
glass of eau sucree to drink if he happens to want it ? ^
Besides, he will not notice it.'

' Your father always notices things,' said Mme. Grandet,
shaking her head.

Nanon hesitated ; she knew her master.

* Do go, Nanon ; it is my birthday to-day, you know ! '

Nanon burst out laughing in spite of herself at the first
joke her young mistress had ever been known to make,
and did her bidding.

While Eugenie and her mother were doing their best

to adorn the room which M. Grandet had allotted to his

nephew, Mme. des Grassins was bestowing her attention on

\ Charles, and making abundant use of her eyes as she did so.

' You are very brave,' she said, ' to leave the pleasures

of the capital in winter in order to come to stay in

Saumur. But if you are not fi-ightened away at first

sight of us, you shall see that even here we can amuse

V ourselves.' And she gave him a languishing glance, in

. true provincial style.

/

Eugenie Grandct 4p

Women in the provinces are wont to affect a demurt
and staid demeanour, which gives a furtive and eager
eloquence to their eyes, a peculiarity which may be noted
in ecclesiastics, for whom every pleasure is stolen or for-
bidden. Charles was so thoroughly out of his element in
this room, it was all so far removed from the great chateau
and the splendid surroundings in which he had thought
to find his uncle, that, on paying closer attention to
Mme. des Grassins, she almost reminded him of Parisian
faces half obliterated already by these strange, new
impressions. He responded graciously to the advances
which had been made to him, and naturally they fell
into conversation.

Mme. des Grassins gradually lowered her voice to tones
suited to the nature of her confidences. Both she and
Charles Grandet felt a need of mutual confidence, of
explanations and an understanding; so after a few minutes
spent in coquettish chatter and jests that covered a serious
purpose, the wily provincial dame felt free to converse
without fear of being overheard, under cover of a con-
versation on the sale of the vintage, the one all-absorbing
topic at that moment in Saumur.

' If you will honour us with a visit,' she said, * you
will certainly do us a pleasure ; my husband and I shall
be very glad to see you. Our salon is the only one in
Saumur where you will meet both the wealthy merchant
society and the noblesse. We ourselves belong in a
manner to both ; they do not mix with each other at all
except at our house ; they come to us because they find
it amusing. My husband, I am proud to say, is very
highly thought of in both circles. So we will do our
best to beguile the tedium of your stay. If you are
going to remain with the Grandets, what will become
of you ! Bon Dieu ! Your uncle is a miser, his mind
runs on nothing but his vine cuttings ; your aunt is a
saint who cannot put two ideas together; and your
cousin is a silly little thing, a common sort of girl,

D

JO Eugenic Grandet

with no breeding and no money, who spends her life in
mending dish-cloths,'

''Tis a very pretty woman,' said Charles to himself;
Mme. des Grassins' coquettish glances had not been
thrown away upon him.

'It seems to me that you mean to monopolise the
gentleman,' said the big banker, laughing, to his wife, an
unlucky observation, followed by remarks more or less
spiteful from the notary and the president ; but the Abbe
gave them a shrewd glance, took a pinch of snuff, and
handed his snuff-box to the company, while he gave
expression to their thoughts, 'Where could the gentle-
man have found any one better qualified to do the
honours of Saumur ? ' he said.

' Come, Abbe, what do you mean by that ? ' asked
M. des Grassins.

'It is meant, sir, in the most flattering sense for
you, for madame, for the town of Saumur, and for this i
gentleman,' added the shrewd ecclesiastic, turning
towards Charles. Without appearing to pay the slightest
heed to their talk, he had managed to guess the drift
of it.

Adolphe des Grassins spoke at last, with what was
meant to be aii offhand manner. ' I do/ not know,' he
said, addressing Charles, 'whether you have any recollec-
tion of me ; I once had the pleasure of dancing in the
same quadrille at a ball given by M. le Baron de
Nucingen, and . . .'

'I remember it perfectly,' answered Charles, sur- 4
prised to find himself the object of general attention.

' Is this gentleman your son ? ' he asked of Mme. des
Grassins.

The Abbe gave her a spiteful glance.

' Yes, I am his mother,' she answered.

' You must have been very young when you came to
Paris ? ' Charles went on, speaking to Adolphe.

' We cannot help ourselves, sir,' said the Abbe. 'Our

Eugenie Grandet 51

babes are scarcely weaned before we send them to
Babylon.'

Mme. des Grassins gave the Abbe a strangely penetrat-
ing glance ; she seemed to be seeking the meaning of
those words.

' You must go into the country,' the Abbe went on, 'if
you want to find women not much on the other side of
thirty, with a grown-up son a licentiate of law, who look as
fresh and youthful as Mme. des Grassins. It only seems
like the other day when the young men and tke ladies
stood on chairs to see you dance, madame,' the Abbe
added, turning towards his fair antagonist ; ' your triumphs
are as fresh in my memory as if they had happened
yesterday.'

' Oh ! the old wretch ! ' said Mme. des Grassins to
herself, *is it possible that he has guessed ? '

'It looks as though I should have a great success in
Saumur,' thought Charles. He unbuttoned his overcoat
and stood with his hand in his waistcoat pocket, gazing
into space, striking the attitude which Chantrey thought
fit to give to Byron in his statue of that poet.

Meanwhile Grandet's inattention, or rather his pre-
occupation, during the reading of his letter had escaped
neither the notary nor the magistrate. Both of them
tried to guess at the contents by watching the almost
imperceptible changes in the worthy man's face, on
which all the light of a candle was concentrated. The
vinegrower was hard put to it to preserve his wonted
composure. His expression must be left to the imagina-
tion, but here is the fatal letter : —

' My Brother, — It is nearly twenty-three J^ears now
since we saw each other. The last time we met it
was to make arrangements for my marriage, and we
parted in high spirits. Little did I then think, when
you were congratulating yourself on our prosperity,
that one day you would be the sole hope and stay of our

52 Eugenie Grandet

family. By the time that this letter reaches your hands,
I shall be no more. In my position, I could not survive
the disgrace of bankruptcy ; I have held up my head
above the surface till the last moment, hoping to v^^eather
the storm ; it is ,all of no use, I must sink now. Just
after the failure of my stockbroker came the failure of
Roguin (my notary) ; my last resources have been swept
away, and I have nothing left. It is my heavy mis-
fortune to owe nearly four millions ; my assets only
amount to twenty-five per cent, of my debts. I hold
heavy stocks of wine, and owing to the abundance and
good quality of your vintages, they have fallen ruinously
in value. In three days time all Paris will say, "M,
Grandet was a rogue ! " and I, honest though I am,
shall lie wrapped in a winding sheet of infamy. I have
despoiled my own son of hi^s mother's fortune and of the
spotless name on which 1 have brought disgrace. He
knows nothing of all this — the unhappy child whom
I have idolised. Happily for him, he did not know when
we bade each other good-bye, and my heart overflowed
with tenderness for him, how soon it should cease to
beat. Will he not curse me some day ? Oh ! my
brother, my brother, a child's curse is an awful thing !
If we curse our children, they may appeal against us,
but their curses cling to us for ever 1 Grandet, you are
my older brother, you must shield me from this ; do
not let Charles say bitter things of me when I am lying
in my grave. Oh ! my brother, if every v.^ord in this
letter were written in my tears, in my blood, it would
not cost me such bitter anguish, for then I should be
weeping, bleeding, dying, and the agony would be
ended ; but now I am still suffering — I see the death
before me with dry eyes. You therefore are Charles's
father, now ! He has no relations on his mother's side
for reasons which you know. Why did I not defer to
social prejudices ? Why did I yield to love ? Why did
I marry the natural daughter of a noble ? Char)*** «« <-he

Eugenie Grandet 53

last of his family ; he is alone in the world. Oh ! my
unhappy boy, my son ! . . . Listen, Grandet, I am ask-
ing nothing for myself, and you could scarcely satisfy
my creditors if you would ; your fortune cannot be
sufficient to meet a demand of three millions ; it is for
my son's sake that I write. You must Icnow, my brother,
that as I think of you my petition is made with clasped
hands ; that this is my dying prayer to you. Grandet,
I know that you will be a father to him ; I know that
I shall not ask in vain, and the sight of my pistols does
not cause me a pang.

' And then Charles is very fond of me ; I was kind
to him, I never said him nay ; he will not curse me I
For the rest, you will see how sweet-tempered and
obedient he is ; he takes after his mother j he will never
give you any trouble, poor boy ! He is accustomed to
luxurious ways ; he knows nothing of the hardships that
you and I experienced in the early days when we were
poor. . . . And now he has not a penny, and he is alone
in the world, for all his friends are sure to leave him,
and it is I who have brought these humiHations upon
him. Ah ! if I had only the power to send him straight
to heaven now, where his mother is ! This is madness !
To go back to my misfortunes and Charles's share in
them. I have sent him to you so that you may break
the news of my death and explain to him what his
future must be. Be a father to him ; ah ! more than
that, be an indulgent father ! Do not expect him to
give up his idle ways all at once ; it would kill him. On
my knees I beg him to renounce all claims to his
mother's fortune ; but I need not ask that of him, his
sense of honour will prevent him from adding himself to
the Hst of my creditors j see that he resigns his claims
when the right time comes. And you must lay every-
thing before him, Grandet — the struggle and the hard-
ships that he will have to face in the life that I have
spoiled for him -, and then if he has any tenderness still

J4 Eugenie Grandet

left for me, tell him from me that all is not lost for
him — be sure you tell him that. Work, which was
our salvation, can restore the fortune which I have lost ;
and if he will listen to his father's voice, which would
fain make itself heard yet a little while from the grave,
let him leave this country and go to the Indies ! And,
brother, Charles is honest and energetic ; you will help
him with his first trading venture, I know you will j
he would die sooner than not repay you ; you will do as
much as that for him, Grandet, or you will lay up regrets
for yourself. Ah ! if my boy finds no kindness and no
help in you, I shall for ever pray God to punish your
hard-heartedness. If I could have withheld a few pay-
ments, I might have saved a little sum for him — he surely
has a right to some of his mother's fortune — but the pay-
ments at the end of the month taxed all my resources,
and I could not manage it. I would fain have died with
my mind at rest about his future ; I wish I could have
received your solemn promise, coming straight from
your hand it would have brought warmth with it for
me ; but time presses. Even while Charles is on his
way, I am compelled to file my schedule. My affairs
are all in order ; I am endeavouring so to arrange every-
thing that it will be evident that my failure is due
neither to carelessness nor to dishonesty, but simply to
disasters which I could not help. Is it not for Charles's
sake that I take these pains ? Farewell, my brother.
May God bless you in every way for the generosity with
which you (as I cannot doubt) will accept and fulfil this,
trust. There will be one voice that will never cease to
pray for you in the world whither we must all go sooner
or later, and where I am even now.

Victor-Ange-Guillaume Grandet.

•So you are having a chat ? ' said old Grandet, folding
up the letter carefully in the original creases, and putting
it into his waistcoat pocket.

Eugenie Grandet J5

He looked at his nephew in a shy and embarrassed
way, seeking to dissemble his feelings and his calculations.

' Do you feel warmer ? '

'I am very comfortable, my dear uncle.'

' Well, what ever are the women after ? ' his uncle
went on ; the fact that his nephew would sleep in the
house had by that time slipped from his memory.
Eugenie and Mme. Grandet came into the room as
he spoke.

' Is everything ready upstairs ? ' the goodman inquired.
He had now quite recovered himself, and recollected the
facts of the case.

' Yes, father.'

' Very well then, nephew, if you are feeling tired,
Nanon will show you to your room. Lord ! there is
nothing very smart about it, but you will overlook that
Here among poor vinegrowers, who never have a penny
to bless themselves with. The taxes swallow up every-
thing we have.'

' We don't want to be intrusive. Grander,' said the
banker. ' You and your nephew may have some things
to talk over ; we will wish you good evening. Good-
bye till to-morrow.'

f Every one rose at this, and took leave after their
several fashions. The old notary went out under the
archway to look for his lantern, lighted it, and offered to
see the des Grassins to their house. Mme. des Grassins
had not been prepared for the event which had brought
jfcthe evening so early to a close, and her maid had not
* appeared.

' Will you honour me by taking my arm, madame ? '
said the Abbe Cruchot, addressing Mme. des Grassins.

' Thank you, M. 1' Abbe,' said the lady drily ; ' my
son is with me.'

' I am not a compromising acquaintance for a lady,*
the Abbe continued.

' Take M. Cruchot's arm,' said her husband.

56 Eugenie Grandet

The Abbe, with the fair lady on his arm, walked on
quickly for several paces, so as to put a distance between
them and the rest of the party.

' That young man is very good-looking, madame,' he
Said, with a pressure on her arm to give emphasis to the
remark. ' 'Tis goodbye to the baskets, the vintage is
over ! You must give up Mile. Grandet ; Eugenie is
meant for her cousin. Unless he happens to be smitten
with some fair face in Paris, your son Adolphe will have
yet another rival *

< Nonsense, M. TAbbe.'

* It will not be long before the young man will find
out that Eugenie is a girl who has nothing to say for
herself; and she has gone off in looks. Did you notice

ft j her ? She was as yellow as a quince this evening.'

' Which, possibly, you have already pointed out to her
cousin ? '

' Indeed, I have not taken the trouble *

\ ' If you always sit beside Eugenie, madame,* interrupted
I the Abbe, ' you will not need to tell the young man much
labout his cousin j he can make his own comparisons.'
' ' He promised me at once to come to dine with us
the day after to-morrow.'

' Ah ! madame,' said the Abbe, ' if you would only . . .*
' Would only what, M. I'Abbe ? Do you mean to put
evil suggestions into my mind ? I have not come to the
age of thirty-nine with a spotless reputation (Heaven be
thanked) to compromise myself now — not for the Empire
of the Great Mogul ! We are both of us old enough ta|^
know what that kind of talk means ; and I must say that
your ideas do not square very well with your sacred
calling. For shame ! this is worthy of Faublas.*
' So you have read Faublas ? '

* No, M. I'Abbe ; Les Liaisons dangereuses is what I
meant to say.'

' Oh ! that book is infinitely more moral,' said the
Abbe, laughing. * But you would make me out to be as

Eugenie Grandet 57

depraved as young men are nowadays. I only meant
that you '

' Do you dare to tell me that you meant no harm ?
The thing is plain enough. If that young fellow (who
certainly is good-looking, that I grant you) paid court to
me, it would not be for the sake of my interest with that
cousin of his. In Paris, I know, there are tender mothers
who sacrifice themselves thus for their children's happi-
ness and welfare, but we are not in Paris, M. I'Abbe.*

' No, madame.*

* And,' continued she, ' neither Adolphe nor I would
purchase a hundred millions at such a price.'

' Madame, I said nothing about a hundred milHons.
Perhaps such a temptation might have been too much
for either of us. Still, in my opinion, an honest woman
may indulge in a little harmless coquetry, in the strictest
propriety ; it is a part of her social duties, and *

' You think so ? '

' Do we not owe it to ourselves, madame, to endeavour
to be as agreeable as possible to others ? . . . Permit me
to blow my nose. Take my word for it, madame,'
resumed the Abbe, ' that he certainly regarded you with
rather more admiration than he saw fit to bestow on me,
but I can forgive him for honouring beauty rather than
grey hairs '

' It is perfectly clear,' said the President in his thick
voice, ' why M. Grandet of Paris is sending his son to
Saiimur ; he has made up his mind to make a match '

' Then why should the cousin have dropped from the
skies like this ? ' answered the notary.

' There is nothing in that,' remarked M. des Grassins,
• old Grandet is so close.'

' Des Grassins,' said his wife, * I have asked that young
man to come and dine with us. So you must go to M.
and Mme. de Larsonniere, dear, and ask them to come,
and the du Hautoys ; and they must bring that pretty
girl of theirs, of course; I hope she will dress herself

58 Eugenie Grandet

properly for once. Her mother is jealous of her, and
makes her look such a figure. I hope that you gentlemen
will do us the honour of coming too ? ' she added, stopping
the procession in order to turn to the two Cruchots, who
had fallen behind.

' Here we are at your door, madame,* said the notary.
The three Cruchots took leave of the three des Grassins,
and on their way home the talent for pulling each other
to pieces, which provincials possess in perfection, was
fully called into play j the great event of the evening
was exhaustively discussed, and all its bearings upon the
respective positions of Cruchotins and Grassinistes were
duly considered. Clearly it behoved both alike to prevent
Eugenie from falling in love with her cousin, and to
hinder Charles from thinking of Eugenie. Sly hints,
plausible insinuations, faint praise, vindications under-
taken with an air of candid friendliness — what resistance
could the Parisian offer when the air hurtled with decep-
tive weapons such as these ?

As soon as the four relatives were left alone in the
great room, M. Grandet spoke to his nephew.

' We must go to bed. It is too late to begin to talk
to-night of the business that brought you here ; to-
morrow will be time enough for that. We have break-
fast here at eight o'clock. At noon we take a snatch of
something, a little fruit, a morsel of bread, and a glass of
white wine, and, like Parisians, we dine at five o'clock.
That is the way of it. If you care to take a look at the
town, or to go into the country round about, you are
quite free to do so. You will excuse me if, for business
reasons, I cannot always accompany you. Very likely
you will be told hereabouts that I am rich : 'tis always
M. Grandet here and M. Grandet there. I let them
talk. Their babble does not injure my credit in any way.
But I have not a penny to bless myself with ; and, old as
I am, I work like any young journeyman who has nothing
in the world but his plane and a pair of stout arms.

Eugenie Grandet 59

perhaps you will find out for yourself some of these days
what a lot of work it takes to earn a crown when you
have to toil and moil for it yourself. Here, Nanon,
bring the candles.*

' I hope you will find everything you want, nephew,'
said Mme. Grandet ; * but if anything has been forgotten,
you will call Nanon.'

' It would be difficult to want anything, my dear
aunt, for I believe I have brought all my things with
me. Permit me to wish you and my young cousin good
ni?ht.'

Charles took a lighted wax-candle from Nanon ; it was
a commodity of local manufacture, which had grown old
in the shop, very dingy, very yellow, and so like the
ordinary tallow variety that M. Grandet had no suspicion
of the article of luxury before him ; indeed, it never
entered into his head to imagine that there could be such
a thing in the house.

' I will show you the way,' said the goodman.

One of the doors in the dining-room gave immediate
access to the archway and to the staircase ; but to-night,
out of compliment to his guest, Grandet went by way of
the passage which separated the kitchen from the dining-
room. A folding-door, with a large oval pane of glass
let into it, closed in the passage at the end nearest the
staircase, an arrangement intended to keep out the blasts
of cold air that rushed through the archway. With a
like end in view, strips of Hst had been nailed to the
doors ; but in winter the east wind found its way in, and
whistled none the less shrewdly about the house, and the
dining-room was seldom even tolerably warm.

Nanon went out, drew the bolts on the entrance gate,
fastened the door of the dining-room, went across to the
stable to let loose a great wolf-dog with a cracked voice ;
it sounded as though the animal was suffering from
laryngitis. His savage temper was well known, and
Nanon was the only human being who could manage

\

60 Eugenie Grandet

him. There was some wild strain in both these children
of the fields ; they understood each other.

Charles glanced round at the dingy yellow walls and
smoke-begrimed ceiling, and saw how the crazy, worm-
eaten stairs shook beneath his uncle's heavy tread ; he
was fast coming to his senses, this was sober reality
indeed ! The place looked like a hen-roost. He looked
round questioningly at the faces of his aunt and cousin,
but they were so thoroughly accustomed to the staircase
and its peculiarities that it never occurred to them that it
could cause any astonishment ; they took his signal of
distress for a simple expression of friendliness, and smiled
back at him in the most amiable way. That smile was
the last straw ; the young man was at his wits' end.

' What the devil made my father send me here ? ' said
he to himself.

Arrived on the first landing, he saw before him three
doors painted a dull red-brown colour ; there were no
mouldings round any of them, so that they would have
been scarcely visible in the dusty surface of the wall if it
had not been for the very apparent heavy bars of iron
with which they were embellished, and which terminated
in a sort of rough ornamental design, as did the ends of
the iron scutcheons which surrounded the keyholes. A
door at the head of the stairs, which had once given
entrance into the room over the kitchen, was evidently
blocked up. As a matter of fact, the only entrance was
through Grandet's own room, and this room over the
kitchen was the vinegrower's sanctum.

Daylight was admitted into it by a single window
which looked out upon the yard, and which, for greater
security, was protected by a grating of massive iron bars.
The master of the house allowed no one, not even Mme.
Grandet, to set foot in this chamber ; he kept the right
of entry to himself, and sat there, undisturbed and alone,
like an alchemist in the midst of his crucibles. Here, no
doubt, there was some cunningly contrived and secret

Eugenie Grandet 6i

hiding-place ; for here he stored up the title-deeds of his
estates ; here, too, he kept the delicately adjusted scales in
which he weighed his gold louis ; and here every night
he made out receipts, wrote acknowledgments of sums
received, and laid his schemes, so that other business
men seeing Grandet never busy, and always prepared
for every emergency, might have been excused for
imagining that he had a fairy or familiar spirit at his
beck and call. ^Here, no doubt, when Nanon's snoring
shook the rafters^ when the savage watch-dog bayed and
prowled about the yard, when Mme. Grandet and
Eugenie were fast asleep, the old cooper would come to
be with his gold, and hug himself upon it, and toy with
it, and fondle it, and brood over it, and so, with the
intoxication of the gold upon him, at last to sleep. The
walls were thick, the closed shutters kept their secret.
He alone had the key of this laboratory, where, if reports
spoke truly, he pored over plans on which every fruit
tree belonging to him was mapped out, so that he could
reckon out his crops, so much to every vine stem ; and
his yield of timber, to a faggot.

The door of Eugenie's room was opposite this closed-
up portal, the room occupied by M. and Mme. Grandet
was at the end of the landing, and consisted of the entire
front of the house. It was divided within by a partition,
Mme. Grandet's chamber was next to Eugenie's, with
which it communicated by a glass door ; the other half of
the room, separated from the mysterious cabinet by a
thick wall, belonged to the master of the house. Good-
man Grandet had cunningly lodged his nephew on the
second story, in an airy garret immediately above his
own room, so that he could hear every sound and
inform himself of the young man's goings and comings,
if the latter should take it into his head to leave his
quarters.

Eugenie and her mother, arrived on the first landing,
kissed each other, and said goodnight j they took leave of

62 Eugenie Grandet

Charles in a few formal words, spoken with an apparent
indifference, v/hich in her heart the girl was far from
feeling, and went to their rooms.

'This is your room, nephew,* said Grandet, addressing
Charles as he opened the door. * If you should wish to
go out, you will have to call Nanon ; for if you don't,
it will be " no more at present from your most obedient,"
the dog will gobble you down before you know where
you are. Goodnight, sleep well. Ha ! ha ! the ladies
have lighted a fire in your room,' he went on.

Just at that moment big Nanon appeared, armed with
a warming-pan.

' Did any one ever see the like ? ' said M. Grandet.
' Do you take my nephew for a sick woman ; he is not
an invalid. Just be off, Nanon ! you and your hot
ashes.'

' But the sheets are damp, sir, and the gentleman looks
as delicate as a woman.'

' All right, go through with it, since you have taken
it into your head,' said Grandet, shrugging his shoulders,
*but mind you don't set the place on fire,' and the
miser groped his way downstairs, muttering vaguely to
himself.

Charles, breathless with astonishment, was left among
his trunks. He looked round about him, at the sloping
roof of the attic, at the wallpaper of a pattern peculiar to
little country inns, bunches of flowers symmetrically
arranged on a buff-coloured background ; he looked at
the rough stone chimney-piece full of rifts and cracks
(the mere sight of it sent a chill through him, in spite of
the fire in the grate), at the ramshackle cane-seated chairs,
at the open night-table large enough to hold a fair-sized
sergeant-at-arms, at the strip of worn rag-carpet beside
the canopied bedstead, at the curtains which shook every
moment as if the whole worm-eaten structure would fall
to pieces ; finally, he turned his attention to big Nanon,
and said earnestly —

Eugenic Grandet 6j

* Look here, my good girl, am I really in M. Grandet*s
house ? M. Grandet, formerly Mayor of Saumur, and
brother of M. Grandet of Paris ? '
^ 'Yes, sir, you are ; and you are staying with a very
kind, a very amiable and excellent gentleman. Am I
to help you to unpack those trunks of yours ? '
^ ' Faith, yes, old soldier, I wish you would. Did you
serve in the horse marines ? '

' Oh ! oh ! oh ! ' chuckled Nanon. ' What may they
be } What are the horse marines ? Are they old salts ?
Do they go to sea ? '

' Here, look out my dressing-gown ; it is in that
portmanteau, and this is the key.'

Nanon was overcome with astonishment at the sight
of a green silk dressing-gown, embroidered with gold
flowers after an antique pattern.

' Are you going to sleep in that ? ' she inquired.

' Yes.'

' Holy Virgin ! What a beautiful altar cloth it would
make for the parish church ! Oh, my dear young
gentleman, you should give it to the Church, and you
will save your soul, which you are like to lose for that
' thing. Oh ! how nice you look in it. I will go and
call m^ademoiselle to look at you.'

' Come now, Nanon, since that is your name, will you
hold your tongue, and let me go to bed. I will set my
• things straight to-morrow, and as you have taken such a
fancy to my gown, you shall have a chance to save your
soul. I am too good a Christian to take it away with me
when I go ; you shall have it, and you can do whatever
you Hke with it.'

Nanon stood stockstill, staring at Charles ; she could
not bring herself to beHeve that he really meant what he
said.

' You are going to give that grand dressing-gown to
me ! ' she said, as she turned to go. ' The gentleman is
dreaming already. Goodnight.'

64 Eugenie Grandet

'Good night, Nanon. — What ever am I doing here ?'
said Charles to himself, as he dropped ofF to sleep. i
* My father is no fool ; I have not been sent here for
nothing. Pooh ! " Serious business to-morrow," as
some old Greek wiseacre used to say.'

' Sainte Vierge ! how nice he is ! ' said Eugenie to
herself in the middle of her prayers, and that night they
) remained unfinished.

Mme. Grandet alone lay down to rest, with no thought
in her quiet mind. Through the door in the thin
partition she could hear her husband pacing to and fro
in his room. Like all sensitive and timid women, she
had thoroughly studied the character of her lord and
master. Just as the sea-mew foresees the coming storm,
she knew by almost imperceptible signs that a tempest
\ was raging in Grandet's mind, and, to use her own ex-
j pression, she 'lay like one dead ' at such seasons. Grandet's
leyes turned towards his sanctum ; he looked at the door,
which was lined with sheet iron on the inner side (he him-
self had seen to that), and muttered, 'What a preposterous
notion this is of my brother's, to leave his child to me !
A pretty legacy ! I haven't twenty crowns to spare,
and what would twenty crowns be to a popinjay like
that, who looked at my weather-glass as if it wasn't fit
to hght the fire with ? '
I And Grandet, meditating on the probable outcome of
\ this mournful dying request, was perhaps more perturbed
I in spirit than the brother who had made it.

' Shall I really have that golden gown ? ' Nanon said,
and she fell asleep wrapped round in her altar cloth,
dreaming for the first time in her life of shining
embroideries and flowered brocade, just as Eugenie
dreamed of love.

In a girl's innocent and uneventful life there comes a
mysterious hour of joy when the sunlight spreads through
the soul, and it seems to her that the flowers express the

Ei^cnie Grandet 65

thoughts that rise within her, thoughts that are quickened
by everv heart beat, only to blend in a vague feeling of
longing, whei the days are filled with innocent
melancholy and .delicious happiness. Children smile ^
when they see the light for the first time, and when a / |
girl dimly diyirjes the presence of love in the world she . *
smiles as she s-niled in her babyhood. If light is the
first thing that we leaixi to love, is not love like light
in the heart ? This moment had come for Eugenie ;
she saw the things of life clearly for the first time.

Early rising is the rule in the country, so, like most
other girls, Eugenie was up betimes in the morning ;
this morning she rose earlier than usual, said her prayers,
and began to dress ; her toilette was henceforth to possess
an interest unknown before. She began by brushing her
chestnut hair, and wound the heavy plaits about her
head, careful that no loose ends should escape from the
braided coronet which made an appropriate setting for
\ a face both frank and shy, a simple coiffure which
harmonised with the girlish outlines.

As she washed her hands again and again in the cold
spring water that roughened and reddened the skin, she
looked down at her pretty rounded arms and wondered
what her cousin did to have hands so soft and so white,
and nails so shapely. She put on a pair of new stockings,
and her best shoes, and laced herself carefully, without
passing over a single eyelet-hole. For the first time in
her life, in fact, she wished to look her best, and felt
that it was pleasant to have a pretty new dress to wear,
a becoming dress which was nicely made.

The church clock struck just as she had finished
dressing ; she counted the strokes, and was surprised to
find that it was still only seven o'clock. She had been
so anxious to have plenty of time for her toilette, that
she had risen too early, and now there was nothing left
to do. Eugenie, in her ignorance, never thought of
studying the position of a tress of hair, and of altering it

£

66 Eugenie Grandet

a dozen times to criticise its effect^ she simply folded
her arms, sat down by the vi indow, a; id looked out
upon the yard, the long strip of garden, a id the terraced
gardens up above upon the ramparts.

It was a somewhat dreary outlook thus shut in by the
grim rock walls, but not without a charm of its own, the
mysterious beauty of quiet over-shaded gardens, or of
wild and solitary places. Under the Jdtchen window
there was a well with a stone coping round it ; a pulley
was suspended above the water from an iron bracket over-
grown by a vine ; the vine-leaves were red and faded
now that the autumn was nearly at an end, and the
crooked stem was plainly visible as it wound its way to
the house wall, and crept along the house till it came to an
end by the wood stack, where the faggots were arranged
with as much neatness and precision as thevolumeson some
book-lover's shelves. The flag-stones in the yard were dark
with age and mosses, and dank with the stagnant air of
the place; weeds "grew here and there among the chinks.
The massive outworks of the old fortifications were
green with moss, with here and there a long dark brown
streak where water dripped, and the eight tumble-down
steps, which gave access to the garden at the further
end of the yard, were almost hidden by a tall growth
j of plants; the general effect ^of the crumbling stones
I had a vague resemblance to some crusader's tomb erected
i by his widow in the days of yore and long since fallen
; into ruin.

Along the low mouldering stone wall there was a
fence of open lattice-work, rotten with age, and fast
falling to pieces ; overrun by various creeping plants
that clambered over it at their own sweet will. A
couple of stunted apple trees spread out their gnarled
and twisted branches on either side of the wicket gate
that led into the garden — three straight gravel walks
with strips of border in between, and a line of box-
edging on either side ; and, at the further end,

Eugenie Grandet 67

underneath the ramparts, a sort of arbour of lime trees,
and a row of raspberry canes. A huge walnut tree
grew at the end nearest to the house, and almost over-
shadowed the cooper's strong room with its spreading
branches.

It was one of those soft bright autumn mornings
peculiar to the districts along the Loire ; there was not a
trace of mist ; the light frosty rime of the previous night
was rapidly disappearing as the mild rays of the autumn
sun shone on the picturesque surroundings, the old walls,
the green tangled growth in the yard and garden.

All these things had been long familiar to Eugenie's
eyes, but to-day it seemed to her that there was a new
beauty about them. A throng of confused thoughts
filled her mind as the sunbeams overflowed the world
without. A vague, inexplicable new happiness stirred
within her, and enveloped her soul, as a bright cloud
might cling about some object in the material world.
The quaint garden, the old walls, every detail in her
little world seemed to be living through this new ex-
perience with her ; the nature without her was in har-
mony with her inmost thoughts. The sunlight crept
along the wall till it reached a maiden-hair fern -, the
changing hues of a pigeon's breast shone from the thick ^
fronds and glossy stems, and all Eugenie's future grew
bright with radiant hopes. Henceforward the bit of wall,
its pale flowers, its blue harebells and bleached grasses,
was a pleasant sight for her j it called up associations
which had all the charm of the memories of childhood.

The rustling sound made by the leaves as they fell
to the earth, the echoes that came up from the court,
seemed like answers to the girl's secret questionings
as she sat and mused ; she might have stayed there
by the window all day and never have noticed how
the hours went by, but other thoughts surged up within
her soul. Again and again she rose and stood before
the glass, and looked at herself, as a conscientious writer

69 Eugenic Grandet

scrutinises his work, criticises it, and says hard things
about it to himself.

*I am not pretty enough for him ! '

This was what Eugenie thought, in her humility, and ,
the thought was fertile in suffering. The poor child did |
not do herself justice ; but humility, or more truly, fear, |
is born with love. Eugenie's beauty was of a robust type '
often found among the lower middle classes, a type
which may seem somewhat wanting in refinement, but
in her the beauty of the Venus of Milo was ennobled
and purified by the beauty of Christian sentiment, which
invests woman with a dignity unknown to ancient
sculptors. Her head was very large ; the masculine but
delicate outlines of her forehead recalled the Jupiter of
Phidias ; all the radiance of her pure life seemed to shine
from the clear grey eyes. An attack of smallpox, so
mild that it had left no scars on the oval face or features,
had yet somewhat blurred their fresh fair colouring, and
coarsened the smooth and delicate surface, still so fine
and soft that her mother's gentle kiss left a passing trace
of faint red on her cheek. Perhaps her nose was a little
too large, but it did not contradict the kindly and affec-
tionate expression of the mouth, and the red lips covered
with finely-etched lines. Her throat was daintily rounded.
There was something that attracted attention and stirred
the imagination in the curving lines of her figure, covered
to the throat by her high-necked dress ; no doubt she
possessed little of the grace that is due to the toilette, and
her tall frame was strong rather than lissome, but this was
not without its charm for judges of beauty.

For Eugenie was both tall and strongly built. She
had nothing of the prettiness that ordinary people admire;
but her beauty was unmistakable, and of a kind in which
artists alone delight. A painter in quest of an exalted
and spiritual type, searching women's faces for the beauty
which Raphael dreamed of and conjured into being, the
eyes full of proud humility, the pure outlines, often due

Eugenie Grandet 69

to some chance inspiration of the artist, but which a
virtuous and Christian life can alone acquire or preserve,
— a painter haunted by this ideal would have seen at once
in Eugenie Grandet's face her unconscious and innate
nobility of soul, a world of love behind the quiet brow,
and in the way she had with her eyelids and in her eyes \
that divine something which baffles description. Therb
was a serene tranquillity about her features, unspoiled
and unwearied by the expression of pleasure ; it was as if
you watched, across some placid lake, the shadowy out-
lines of hills far off against the sky. The beauty ipf
Eugenie's face, so quiet and so softly coloured, was like
that of some fair, half-opened flower about which the
light seems to hover 5 in its quality of restfulness, its
subtle revelation of a beautiful nature, lay the charm that
attracted beholders. Eugenie was still on the daisied
brink of life, where illusions blossom and joys are gathered
which are not known in later days. So she looked in the
glass, and with no thought of love as yet in her mind,
she said, 'He will not give me a thought; I am too
ugly ! '

Then she opened her door, went out on to the landing,
and bent over the staircase to hear the sounds in the
house.

'He is not getting up yet,* she thought. She heard
Nanon*s morning cough as the good woman went to and
fro, swept out the dining-room, lit the kitchen fire,
chained up the dog, and talked to her friends the brutes
in the stable.

Eugenie fled down the staircase, and ran over to Nanon,
who was milking the cow.

' Nanon,* she cried, ' do let us have some cream for my
cousin's coffee, there's a dear.*

'But, mademoiselle, you can't have cream off this
morning's milk,' said Nanon, as she burst out laughing.
' I can't make cream for you. Your cousin is as charm-
ing as charming can be, that he is ! You haven't seen

70 Eugenie Grandet

him in that silk night rail of his, all flowers and gold '
I did though ! The linen he wears is every bit as fine
as M. le Cure's surplice.*

' Nanon, make some cake for us.'

' And who is to find the wood to heat the oven and
the flour and the butter ? ' asked Nanon, who in her
capacity of Grandet's prime minister was a person of
immense importance in Eugenie's eyes, and even in
Eugenie's mother's. ' Is he to be robbed to make a feast
for your cousin ? Ask for the butter and the flour and
the firewood ; he is your father, go and ask him, he may
give them to you. There ! there he is, just coming
downstairs to see after the provisions '

But Eugenie had escaped into the garden \ the sound
of her father's footstep on the creaking staircase terrified
her. She was conscious of a happiness that shrank from
the observation of others, a happiness which, as we are
apt to think, and perhaps not without reason, shines from
our eyes, and is written at large upon our foreheads. And
not only so, she was conscious of other thoughts. The
bleak discomfort of her father's house had struck her for
the first time, and, with a dim feeling of vexation, the
poor child wished that she could alter it all, and bring it
more into harmony with her cousin's elegance. She felt
a passionate longing to do something for him, without
the slightest idea what that something should be. The
womanly instinct awakened in her at the first sight of her
cousin was only the stronger because she had reached her
three-and-twentieth year, and mind and heart were fully
developed ; and she was so natural and simple that she
acted on the promptings of her angelic nature without
submitting herself, her impressions, or her feelings to any
introspective process.

For the first time in her life the sight of her father
struck a sort of terror into her heart ; she felt that he
was the master of her fate, and that she was guiltily
hiding some of her thoughts from him. She began to

Eugenie Grandet 71

walk hurriedly up and down, wondering how it was that
the air was so fresh ; there was a reviving force in the
sunlight, it seemed to be within her as well as without,
it was as if a new life had begun.

While she was still thinking how to gain her end
concerning the cake, a quarrel came to pass between
Nanon and Grandet, a thing as rare as a winter swallow.
The goodman had just taken his keys, and was about to
dole out the provisions required for the day.

' Is there any bread left over from yesterday ? * he asked
of Nanon.

' Not a crumb, sir.'

Grandet took up a large loaf, round in form and close in
consistence, shaped in one of the fiat baskets which they
use for baking in Anjou, and was about to cut it, when
Nanon broke in upon him with —

' There are five of us to-day, sir.*

* True,' answered Grandet ; ' but these loaves of yours
weigh six pounds apiece ; there will be some left over.
Besides, these young fellows from Paris never touch
bread, as you will soon see.'

' Then do they eat " kitchen " ? ' asked Nanon.

This word kitchen in the Angevin dictionary signifies
anything which is spread upon bread ; from butter, the
commonest variety, to preserved peaches, the most dis-
tinguished of all kitchens ; and those who, as small
children, have nibbled ofF the kitchen and left the bread,
will readily understand the bearing of Nanon's remark.

'No,' replied Grandet with much gravity, 'they eat
neither bread nor kitchen; they are like a girl in love, as
you may say.'

Having at length cut down the day's rations to the
lowest possible point, the miser was about to go to his
fruit-loft, first carefully locking up the cupboards of his
storeroom, when Nanon stopped him.

' Just give me some flour and butter, sir,' she said, •^'
* and I will make a cake for the children,' p ^

72 Eugenie Grandet

' Are you going to turn the house upside down because
my nephew is here ? *

' Your nephew was no more in my mind than your
dog, no more than he was in yours. . . . There, now !
you have only put out six lumps of sugar, and I want eight.*

' Come, come, Nanon ; I have never seen you like this
before. What has come over you ? Are you mistress
here ? You will have six lumps of sugar and no more.'

' Oh, very well ; and what is your nephew to sweeten
his coffee with ? '

' He can have two lumps ; I shall go without it myself.'

' Tou go without sugar ! and at your age ! I would
sooner pay for it out of my own pocket.'

' Mind your own business.'

In spite of the low price of sugar, it was, in Grandet's
eyes, the most precious of all colonial products. For him
it was always something to be used sparingly ; it was still
worth six francs a pound, as in the time of the Empire, and
this pet economy had become an inveterate habit with him.
But every woman, no matter how simple she may be,
can devise some shift to gain her ends; and Nanon
allowed the question of the sugar to drop, in order to
have her way about the cake.

' Mademoiselle,' she called through the window,
' wouldn't you like some cake ? '

' No, no,' answered Eugenie.

' Stay, Nanon,' said Grandet as he heard his daughter's
voice ; ' there ! '

He opened the flour-bin, measured out some flour,
and added a few ounces of butter to the piece which he
had already cut.

' And firewood ; I shall want firewood to heat the
oven,' said the inexorable Nanon.

' Ah ! well, you can take what you want,' he answered
ruefully ; ' but you will make a fruit tart at the same
time, and you must bake the dinner in the oven, that
will save lighting another fire.'

Eugenie Grandet 73

* ^ien ! * cried Nanon ; ' there is no need to tell mc
that ! '

Grandet gave his trusty prime minister a glance that
was almost paternal.

* Mademoiselle,' cried the cook, ' we are going to have
a cake.'

Grandet came back again with the fruit, and began by
setting down a plateful on the kitchen table.

' Just look here, sir,' said Nanon, 'what lovely boots your
nephew has ! What leather, how nice it smells ! What
are they to be cleaned with ? Am I to put your egg-
blacking on them ? '

' No, Nanon,' said Eugenie ; ' I expect the egg would
spoil the leather. You had better tell him that you have
no idea how to clean black morocco. . . . Yes, it is
morocco, and he himself will buy you something in
Saumur to clean his boots with. I have heard it said
that they put sugar into their blacking, and that is what
makes it so shiny.'

' Then is it good to eat ? ' asked the maid, as she
picked up the boots and smelt them. ' ^ien^ quien !
they smell of madame's eau-de-Cologne ! Oh, how
funny ! '

' Funny ! ' said her master ; ' people spend more money
on their boots than they are worth that stand in them,
and you think it funny ! ' He had just returned from a
second and final expedition to the fruit-loft, carefully
locking the door after him.

' You will have soup once or twice a week while your
nephew is here, sir, will you not ? *

' Yes.'

' Shall I go round to the butcher's ? *

' You will do nothing of the kind. You can make
some chicken-broth; the tenants will keep you going.
But I shall tell Cornoiller to kill some ravens for me.
That kind of game makes the best broth in the world.*

' Is it true, sir, that they live on dead things ? '

74 Eugenie Grandet

' You are a fool, Nanon ! They live, like everybody
else, on anything that they can pick up. Don't we all live
on dead things ? What about legacies ? ' And goodman
Grandet, having no further order to give, drew out his
watch, and finding that there was yet half an hour to
spare before breakfast, took up his hat, gave his daughter
a kiss, and said, ' Would you like to take a walk along
the Loire ? I have something to see after in the meadows
down there.*

Eugenie put on her straw hat lined with rose-coloured
silk ; and then father and daughter went down the
crooked street towards the market-place.

' Where are you off to so early this morning ? ' said
the notary Cruchot, as he met the Grandets.

' We are going to take a look at something,' responded
his friend, in nowise deceived by this early move on the
notary's part.

Whenever Grandet was about to ' take a look at some-
thing,' the notary knew by experience that there was
something to be gained by going with him. With him,
therefore, he went.

* Come along, Cruchot,' said Grandet, addressing the
notary. ' You are one of my friends j I am going to
show you what a piece of folly it is to plant poplars in
good soil '

' Then the sixty thousand francs that you fingered for
those poplars of yours in the meadows by the Loire are a
mere trifle to you ? ' said Cruchot, opening his eyes
wide in his bewilderment. ' And such luck as you had
too ! . . . Felling your timber just when there was no
white wood to be had in Nantes, so that every trunk
fetched thirty francs ! '

Eugenie heard and did not hear, utterly unconscious
that the most critical moment of her life was rapidly
approaching, that a paternal and sovereign decree was
about to be pronounced, and that the old notary was to
bring all this about. Grandet had reached the magnificent

Eugenie Grandet 75

meadow-land by the Loire, which had come into his
hands in his Republican days. Some thirty labourers
were busy digging out the roots of the poplars that once
stood there, filling up the holes that were left, and
levelling the ground.

' Now, M. Cruchot, see how much space a poplar
takes up,' said he, addressing the notary. 'Jean,* he
called to a workman, ' m — m — measure r — round the
sides with your rule.'

' Eight feet four times over,' said the workman when
he had finished.

' Thirty-two feet of loss,' said Grandet to Cruchot.
' Now along that line there were three hundred poplars,
weren't there ? Well, then, three hundred t — t — times
thirty-two f — feet will eat up five hundredweight of hay,
allow twice as much again for the space on either side, and
you get fifteen hundredweight ; then there is the interven-
ing space — say a thousand t — t — trusses of hay altogether.'

' Well,' said Cruchot, helping his friend out, ' and a
thousand trusses of that hay would fetch something like
six hundred francs.'

' S — s — say t — twelve hundred, because the s — second
crop is worth three or four hundred francs. Good, then
reckon up what t — t — twelve hundred francs per annum
d — d — during f — forty years comes to, at compound
interest of course.'

' Sixty thousand francs, or thereabouts,' said the notary.

* That is what I make it ! Sixty thousand f — f — francs.
Well,' the vinegrower went on without stammering,
' two thousand poplars will not bring in fifty thousand
francs in forty years. So you lose on them. That 1
found out,' said Grandet, who was vastly pleased with
himself. 'Jean,' he continued, turnmg to the labourer,
' fill up all the holes except those along the riverside,
where you can plant those poplar saplings that I bought.
If you set them along by the Loire, they will grow there
finely at the expense of the Government,' he added, and

76 Eugenie Grandet

as he looked round at Cruchot the wen on his nose
twitched slightly, the most sardonic smile could not have
said more.

' Yes, it is clear enough, poplars should only be planted
in poor soil,' said Cruchot, quite overcome with amaze-
ment at Grandet's astuteness.

' Y — e — s, sir,* said the cooper ironically.

Eugenie was looking out over the glorious landscape
and along the Loire, without heeding her father's
arithmetic ; but Cruchot's talk with his client took
another turn, and her attention was suddenly aroused.

' So you have a son-in-law come from Paris ; they are
talking about nothing but your nephew in all Saumur. I
shall soon have settlements to draw up ; eh, pere Grandet ? *

' Did you come out early to t — t — tell me that ? '
inquired Grandet, and again the wen twitched. ' Very
well, you are an old crony of mine ; I will be p — plain
with you, and t — t — tell you what you w — want to
know. I would rather fling my d — d — daughter into
the Loire, look you, than g — give her to her cousin.
You can give that out. But, no ; 1 — 1 — let people
gossip.'

Everything swam before Eugenie's eyes. Her vague
hopes of distant happiness had suddenly taken definite
shape, had sprung up and blossomed, and then her harvest
of flowers had been as suddenly cut down and lay on
the earth. Since yesterday she had woven the bonds of
happiness that unite two souls, and henceforwaid sorrow, it
seemed, was to strengthen them. Is it not written in
the noble destiny of woman that the grandeur of sorrow
should touch her more closely than all the pomp and
splendour of fortune ?

How came it that a father's feelings had been extin-
guished (as it seemed) in her father's heart ? What
crime could be laid at Charles's door ? Mysterious
questions I Mysterious and sad forebodings already sur-
rounded her growing love, that mystery within her soul.

Eugenie Grandet 77

When they turned to go home again, she trembled in
every limb 5 and as they went up the shady street, along
which she had lately gone so joyously, the shadows looked
gloomy, the air she breathed seemed full of the melan-
choly of autumn, everything about her was sad. Love,
that had brought these keener perceptions, was quick to
interpret every boding sign. As they neared home, she
walked on ahead of her father, knocked at the house door,
and stood waiting beside it. But Grandet, seeing that
the notary carried a newspaper still in its wrapper, asked,
' How are consols ? '

' I know you will not take my advice, Grandet,*
Cruchot replied. ' You should buy at once ; the chance
of making twenty per cent, on them in two years is still
open to you, and they pay a very fair rate of interest
besides, five thousand livres is not a bad return on eighty
thousand francs. You can buy now at eighty francs
fifty centimes. *

' We shall see,' remarked Grandet pensively, rubbing
his chin.

* Mon Dieu ! * exclaimed the notary, who by this time
had unfolded his newspaper.

' Well, what is it ? ' cried Grandet as Cruchot put the
paper in his hands and said —

* Read that paragraph.'

'M. Grandet, one of the most highly respected
merchants in Paris, shot himself through the head
yesterday afternoon, after putting in an appearance on
Change as usual. He had previously sent in his resigna-
tion to the President of the Chamber of Deputies, resign-
ing his position as Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce
at the same time. His affairs had become involved
through the failures of his stockbroker and notary, MM.
Roguin and Souchet. M. Grandet, whose character was
very greatly esteemed, and whose credit stood high,
would no doubt have found temporary assistance on the

/

78 Eugenie Grandet

market which would have enabled him to tide over his
difficulties. It is to be regretted that a man of such high
character should have given way to the first impulse of
despair ' — and so forth, and so forth.

*I knew it,' the old vinegrower said.

Phlegmatic though Cruchot was, he felt a horrible
shudder run through him at the words ; perhaps Grandet
of Paris had stretched imploring hands in vain to the
millions of Grandet of Saumur ; the blood ran cold in his
veins.

* And his son ? ' he asked presently -, * he was in such
spirits yesterday evening.'

'His son knows nothing as yet,' Grandet answered,
imperturbable as ever.

'Good morning, M. Grandet,' said Cruchot. He
understood the position now, and went to reassure the
President de Bonfons.

Grandet found breakfast ready. Mme. Grandet was
already seated in her chair, mounted on the wooden blocks,
and was knitting woollen cufFs for the winter. Eugenie
ran to her mother and put her arms about her, with the
eager hunger for affection that comes of a hidden trouble.

'You can get your breakfast,' said Nanon, bustling
downstairs in a hurry ; 'he is sleeping like a cherub.
He looks so nice with his eyes shut ! I went in and
called him, but it was all one, he never heard me.'

'Let him sleep,' said Grandet ; 'he will wake soon
enough to hear bad news, in any case.'

' What is the matter ? ' asked Eugenie. She was
putting into her cup the two smallest lumps of sugar,
weighing goodness knows how many grains ; her worthy
parent was wont to amuse himself by cutting up sugar
whenever he had nothing better to do.

Mme. Grandet, who had not dared to put the question
herself, looked at her husband.

' His father has blown his brains out.'

Eugenie Grandet 79

* My uncle f * said Eugenie.

* Oh ! that poor boy ! ' cried Mme. Grandet.

* Poor indeed ! ' said Grandet ; ' he has not a penny.'
'Ah ! well, he is sleeping as if he were the king of all

the world,' said Nanon pityingly.

Eugenie could not eat. Her heart was wrung as a
woman's heart can be when for the first time her whole
soul is filled with sorrow and compassion for the sorrow
of one she loves. She burst into tears.

* You did not know your uncle, so what is there to
cry about ? ' said her father with a glance like a hungry
tiger's ; just such a glance as he would give, no doubt,
to his heaps of gold.

' But who wouldn't feel sorry for the poor young man,
sir ? ' said the serving-maid ; ' sleeping there like a log,
and knowing nothing of his fate.'

' I did not speak to you, Nanon ! Hold your tongue.'

In that moment Eugenie learned that a woman who
loves must dissemble her feelings. She was silent.

'Until I come back, Mme. Grandet, you will say
nothing about this to him, I hope,' the old cooper con-
tinued. ' They are making a ditch in my meadows along
the road, and I must go and see after it. I shall come back
for the second breakfast at noon, and then my nephew
and I will have a talk about his affairs. As for you,
Mademoiselle Eugenie, if you are crying over that popin-
jay, let us have no more of it, child. He will be off
poste-haste to the Indies directly, and you will never set
eyes on him any more.'

Her father took up his gloves, which were lying on
the rim of his hat, put them on in his cool, dehberate
way, inserting the fingers of one hand between those of
the other, dovetail fashion, so as to thrust them down
well into the tips of the gloves, and then he went out.

' Oh ! mamma, I can scarcely breathe ! ' cried Eugenie
when she was alone with her mother ; ' I have never
suffered like this ! '

8o Eugenie Grandet

Mme. Grandet, seeing her daughter's white face,
opened the window and let fresh air into the room.

' I feel better now,' said Eugenie after a little.

This nervous excitement in one who was usually so
quiet and self-possessed produced an effect on Mme.
Grandet. She looked at her daughter, and her mother's
love and sympathetic instinct told her everything. But,
in truth, the celebrated Hungarian twin-sisters, united to
each other by one of Nature's errors, could scarcely have
lived in closer sympathy than Eugenie and her mother.
Were they not always together ; together in the window
where they sat the livelong day, together at church, did
they not breathe the same air even when they slept ?

'My poor little girl!' said Mme. Grandet, drawing
Eugenie's head down till it rested upon her bosom.

Her daughter lifted her face, and gave her mother a
questioning look which seemed to read her inmost
thoughts.

' Why must he be sent to the Indies ? ' said the girl,
' If he is in trouble, ought he not to stay here with us ?
Is he not our nearest relation ? '

' Yes, dear child, that would only be natural ; but your
father has reasons for what he does, and we must respect
them.'

Mother and daughter sat in silence ; the one on her
chair mounted on the wooden blocks, the other in her
little armchair. Both women took up their needlework.
Eugenie felt that her mother understood her, and her
heart was full of gratitude for such tender sympathy.

' How kind you are, dear mamma ! ' she said as she
took her mother's hand and kissed it.

The worn, patient face, aged with many sorrows,
Hghted up at the words.

' Do you like him ? ' asked Eugenie.

For all answer, Mme. Grandet smiled. Then after a
moment's pause she murmured, ' You cannot surely love
him already ? That would be a pity.'

Eugenic Grandet Si

* Why would it be a pity ? * asked Eugenie. * You like
him, Nanon likes him, why should I not like him too ?
Now then, mamma, let us set the table for his breakfast.'

She threw down her work, and her mother followed
her example, saying as she did so, ' You are a mad girl ! '

But none the less did she sanction her daughter's freak
by assisting in it.

Eugenie called Nanon.

' Haven't you all you want yet, mamselle ? *

' Nanon, surely you will have some cream by twelve
o'clock ? '

' By twelve o'clock ? Oh ! yes,' answered the old
servant.

'Very well, then, let the coffee be very strong. I
have heard M. des Grassins say that they drink their
coffee very strong in Paris. Put in plenty.'

' And where is it to come from ? '

' You must buy some."

' And suppose the master meets me ? '

* He is down by the river.'

' I will just slip out then. But M. Fessard asked me
when I went about the candle if the Three Holy Kings
were paying us a visit. Our goings on will be all over
the town.'

' Your father would be quite capable of beating us,*
said Mme. Grandet, ' if he suspected anything of all this.'

' Oh I well, then, never mind ; he will beat us, we
will take the beating on our knees.'

At this Mme. Grandet raised her eyes to heaven, and
said no more. Nanon put on her sun-bonnet and went
out. Eugenie spread a clean linen tablecloth, then she
went upstairs in quest of some bunches of grapes which
she had amused herself by hanging from some strings up
in the attic. She tripped lightly along the corridor, so as
not to disturb her cousin, and could not resist the tempta-
tion to stop a moment before the door to listen to hi«
even breathing.

X

82 Eugenie Grandet

'Trouble wakes while he is sleeping,' she said to
herself.

She arranged her grapes on the few last green vine
leaves as daintily as any experienced chef d\ffice^ and set
them on the table in triumph. She levied contributions
on the pears which her father had counted out, and piled
them up pyramid-fashion, with autumn leaves among
them. She came and went, and danced in and out. She
might have ransacked the house ; the will was in nowise
lacking, but her father kept everything under lock 'and
key, and the keys were in his pocket. Nanon came back
with two new-laid eggs. Eugenie could have flung her
arms round the girl's neck.

' The farmer from La Lande had eggs in his basket ; I
asked him for some, and to please me he let me have
these, the nice man.'

After two hours of industrious application, Eugenie
succeeded in preparing a very simple meal ; it cost but
Httle, it is true, but it was a terrible infringement of the
immemorial laws and customs of the house. No one sat
down to the mid-day meal, which consisted of a little bread,
some fruit or butter, and a glass of wine. Twenty times
in those two hours Eugenie had left her work to watch the
coffee boil, or to listen for any sound announcing that her
cousin was getting up ; now looking round on the table
drawn up to the fire, with one of the armchairs set beside
it for her cousin, on the two plates of fruit, the egg-cups,
the bottle of white wine, the bread, and the Httle pyramid
of white sugar in a saucer ; Eugenie trembled from head
to foot at the mere thought of the glance her father
would give her if he should happen to come in at that
moment. Often, therefore, did she look at the clock, to
see if there was yet time for her cousin to finish his
breakfast before her parent's return.

' Never mind, Eugenie, if your father comes in, I will
take all the blame,' said Mme. Grandet.

Eugenie could not keep back the tears. ' Oh !

Eugenie Grandet 83 -, -/

my kind mother,' she cried ; ' I have not loved you
enough ! '

Charles, after making innumerable pirouettes round his
room, came down at last, singing gay little snatches of
song. Luckily it was only eleven o'clock after all.
He had taken as much pains with his appearance (the
Parisian ! ) as if he had been staying in the chateau
belonging to the high-born fair one who was travelling
in Scotland ; and now he came in with that gracious
air of condescension which sits not ill on youth, and
which gave Eugenie a melancholy pleasure. He had
come to regard the collapse of his castles in Anjou
as a very good joke, and went up to his aunt quite
gaily.

* I hope you slept well, dear aunt ? And you too,
cousin ? '

' Very well, sir j how did you sleep ! '

* Soundly.'

'Cousin, you must be hungry,' said Eugenie; 'sit
down.'

' Oh ! I never breakfast before twelve o'clock, just
after I rise. But I have fared so badly on my journey,

that I will yield to persuasion. Besides ' he drew

out the daintiest little watch that ever issued from
Breguet's workshop. _ ' Dear me, it is only eleven
o'clock ; I have been up betimes.'

' Up betimes ? ' asked Mme. Grandet.

' Yes, but I wanted to set my things straight. Well,
I am quite ready for something, something not very
substantial, a fowl or a partridge.'

' Holy Virgin ! ' exclaimed Nanon, hearing these
words.

'A partridge,' Eugenie said to herself. She would
willingly have given all she had for one.

'Come and take your seat,' said Mme. Grandet,
addressing her nephew.

The dandy sank into the armchair in a graceful

84 Eugenie Grandet

attitude, much as a pretty woman might recline on her
sofa. Eugenie and her mother drew their chairs to
the fire and sat near him.

' Do you always live here.?* Charles inquired, thinking
that the room looked even more hideous by daylight
than by candle light.

' Always,' Eugenie answered, watching him as she
spoke. ' Always, except during the vintage. Then
we go to help Nanon, and we all stay at the Abbey
at Noyers.*

' Do you never take a walk ? *

* Sometimes, on Sundays after vespers, when it is fine,
we walk down as far as the bridge,* said Mme. Grandet,
'or we sometimes go to see them cutting the hay.*

* Have you a theatre here ? *

*Go to the play ! * cried Mme. Grandet ; 'go to see
play-actors ! Why, sir, do you not know that that is a
mortal sin ? *

' There, sir,' said Nanon, bringing in the eggs, ' we
will give you chickens in the shell.'

' Oh ! new-laid eggs,* said Charles, who, after the
manner of those accustomed to luxury, had quite for-
gotten all about his partridge. ' Delicious ! Do you
happen to have any butter, eh, my good girl ? *

' Butter ? If you have butter now, you will have no
cake by-and-by,* said the handmaid.

' Yes, of course, Nanon ; bring some butter,* cried
Eugenie.

The young girl watched her cousin while he cut his
bread and butter into strips, and felt happy. The most
romantic shop-girl in Paris could not more thoroughly
enjoy the spectacle of innocence triumphant in a melo-
drama. It must be conceded that Charles, who had
been brought up by a graceful and charming mother,
and had received his ' finishing education ' from an
accomplished woman of the world, was as dainty, neat,
and elegant in his ways as any coxcomb of the gentler

Eugenie Grandet 85

sex. The girl's quiet sympathy produced an almost
magnetic effect. Charles, finding himself thus waited
upon by his cousin and aunt, could not resist the influence
of their overflowing kindness. He was radiant with
good-humour, and the look he gave Eugenie was almost
a smile. As he looked at her more closely he noticed
her pure, regular features, her unconscious attitude, the
wonderful clearness of her eyes, in which love sparkled,
though she as yet knew nothing of love but its pain and v.
a wistful longing. 7.

' Really, my dear cousin,' he said, ' if you were in
a box at the opera and in evening dress, and I would
answer for it, my aunt's remark about deadly sin would
be justified, all the men would be envious, and all the
women jealous.'

Eugenie's heart beat fast with joy at this compli-
ment, though it conveyed no meaning whatever to her
mind.

'You are laughing at a poor little country cousin,' she
said.

' If you knew me better, cousin, you would know that
I detest banter ; it sears the heart and deadens the
feelings.' And he swallowed down a strip of bread and
butter with perfect satisfaction.

' No,' he continued, ' I never make fun of others,
very likely because I have not wit enough, a defect
which puts me at a great disadvantage. They have
a deadly trick in Paris of saying, " He is so good-natured,"
which, being interpreted, means — "the poor youth is
as stupid as a rhinoceros.'^ But as I happen to be
rich, and it is known that I can hit the bull's eye straight
off at thirty paces with any kind of pistol anywhere, these
witticisms are not levelled at me.'

' It is evident from what you say, nephew,' said Mme.
Grandet gravely, ' that you have a kind heart.'

' That is a very pretty ring of yours,' said Eugenie j
*is there any harm in asking to see it ? '

86 Eugenie Grandet

Charles took off the ring and held it out ; Eugenie
reddened as her cousin's rose-pink nails came in contact
with her finger-tips.

* Mother, only see how fine the work is!'

' Oh, what a lot of gold there is in it ! ' said Nanon,
who brought in the coffee.

' What is that ? ' asked Charles, laughing, as he pointed
to an oval pipkin, made of glazed brown earthenware,
ornamented without by a circular fringe of ashes. It
was full of a brown boiling liquid, in which coffee
grounds were visible as they rose to the surface and fell
again.

* Coffee ; boiling hot ! ' answered Nanon.

' Oh ! my dear aunt, I must at least leave some
beneficent trace of my stay here. You are a long way
behind the times ! I will show you how to make decent
coffee in a cafetiere a la ChaptaV Forthwith he
endeavoured to explain the principles on which this
utensil is constructed.

' Bless me ! if there is all that to-do about it,' said
Nanon, ' you would have to give your whole time to it.
I ' 11 never make coffee that way, I know. Who is to
cut the grass for our cow while I am looking after the
coffee pot ? '

' I would do it,' said Eugenie.

' Child ! ' said Mme. Grandet, with a look at her
daughter ; and at the word came a swift recollection
of the misery about to overwhelm the unconscious
young man, and the three women were suddenly silent,
and gazed pityingly at him. He could not understand it.

* What is it, cousin ? ' he asked Eugenie.

' Hush ! ' said Mme. Grandet, seeing that the girl
was about to reply. ' You know that your father means
to speak to the gentleman '

' Say " Charles," ' said young Grandet.

' Oh, is your name Charles ? ' said Eugenie. ' it is a
nice name.'

Eugenic Grandet 87

Evil forebodings are seldom vain.

Just at that moment Mme. Grandet, Eugenie, and
Nanon, who could not think of the cooper's return
without shuddering, heard the familiar knock at the
door.

' That is papa ! ' cried Eugenie.

She took away the saucer full of sugar, leaving one or
two lumps on the tablecloth. Nanon hurried away with
the egg-cups. Mme. Grandet started up like a frightened
fawn. There was a sudden panic of terror, which
amazed Charles, who was quite at a loss to account for it.

' Why, what is the matter ? ' he asked.

* My father is coming in,* explained Eugenie.

' Well, and what then ? *

M. Grandet entered the room, gave one sharp glance
at the table, and another at Charles. He saw how it was
at once.

' Aha ! you are making a fete for your nephew.
Good, very good, oh ! very good, indeed ! ' he said,
without stammering. 'When the cat is away, the mice
may play.'

' Fete ? ' thought Charles, wjio had not the remotest
conception of the state of affairs in the Grandet house-
hold.

' Bring me my glass, Nanon,' said the goodman.

Eugenie went for the glass. Grandet drew from his
waistcoat pocket a large clasp-knife with a stag's horn
handle, cut a slice of bread, buttered it slowly and
sparingly, and began to eat as he stood. Just then
Charles put some sugar into his coffee j this called
Grandet's attention to the pieces of sugar on the table j
he looked hard at his wife, who turned pale, and came
a step or two towards him j he bent down and said in
the poor woman's ear —

'Where did all that sugar come from ? '

' Nanon went out to Fessard's for some ; there was
none in the house."*

88 Eugenie Grandet

It is impossible to describe the painful interest that
this dumb show possessed for the three women ; Nanon
had left her kitchen, and was looking into the dining-
room to see how things went there. Charles meanwhile
tasted his coffee, found it rather strong, and looked
round for another piece of sugar, but Grandet had
already pounced upon it and taken it away.

' What do you want, nephew ? * the old man in-
quired.

' The sugar.*

' Pour in some more milk if your coffee is too strong,'
answered the master of the house.

Eugenie took up the saucer, of which Grandet had
previously taken possession, and set it on the table,
looking quietly at her father the while. Truly, the
fair Parisian who exerts all the strength of her weak arms
to help her lover to escape by a ladder of silken cords,
displays less courage than Eugenie showed when she
put the sugar upon the table. The Parisian will
have her reward. She will proudly exhibit the bruises
on a round white arm, her lover will bathe them with
tears and cover them with kisses, and pain will be
extinguished in bliss ; but Charles had not the remotest
conception of what his cousin endured for him, or of the
horrible dismay that filled her heart as she met her
father's angry eyes; he would never even know of her
sacrifice.

' You are eating nothing, wife ? *

The poor bond-slave went to the table, cut a piece of
bread in fear and trembling, and took a pear. Eugenie,
grown reckless, offered the grapes to her father, saying
as she did so —

'Just try some of my fruit, papa! You will take
some, will you not, cousin ? I brought those pretty
grapes down on purpose for you.'

* Oh ! if they could have their way, they would
turn Saumur upside down for you, nephew '. As soon

Eugenie Grandet 89

a? you have finished we will take a turn in the garden
together; I have some things to tell you that would take
a deal of sugar to sweeten them.'

Eugenie and her mother both gave Charles a look,
which the young man could not mistake.

' What do you mean by that, uncle ? ' since my
mother died . , . (here his voice softened a little) there
is no misfortune possible for me . . . '

' Who can know what afflictions God may send to
make trial of us, nephew,' said his aunt.

'Tut, tut, tut,' muttered Grandet, 'here you are
beginning with your folly already ! I am sorry to see
that you have such white hands, nephew.'

He displayed the fists, like shoulders of mutton, with
which nature had terminated his own arms.

'That is the sort of hand to rake the crowns
together ! You put the kind of leather on your feet
that we used to make pocket-books of to keep bills in.
That is the way you have been brought up. That's
bad ! that's bad ! '

' What do you mean, uncle ? I'll be hanged if I
understand one word of this.'

' Come along,' said Grandet.

The miser shut his knife with a snap, drained his glass,
and opened the door.

' Oh ! keep up your courage, cousin ! '

Somethmg in the girl's voice sent a sudden chill
through Charles; he followed his formidable relative
with dreadful misgivings. Eugenie and her mother and
Nanon went into the kitchen ; an uncontrollable anxiety
led them - to watch the two actors in the scene which
was about to take place in the damp little garden.

Uncle and nephew walked together in silence at first.
Grandet felt the situation to be a somewhat awkward
one ; not that he shrank at all from telling Charles
of his father's death, but he felt a kind of pity for a
young man left in this way without a penny in the

90 Eugenie Grandet

world, and he cast about for phrases that should break
this cruel news as gently as might be. ' You have lost
your father ! ' he could say that ; there was nothing ia
that ; fathers usually predecease their children. But,
' You have not a penny ! ' All the woes of the world
were summed up in those words, so for the third time
the worthy man walked the whole length of the path
in the centre of the garden, crunching the gravel
beneath his heavy boots, and no word was said.

At all great crises in our lives, any sudden joy or
great sorrow, there comes a vivid consciousness of our
surroundings that stamps them on the memory for ever ;
and Charles, with every faculty strained and intent, saw
the box-edging to the borders, the falling autumn leaves,
the mouldering walls, the gnarled and twisted boughs
of the fruit-trees, and till his dying day every
picturesque detail of the little garden came back
with the memory of the supreme hour of that early
sorrow.

'It is very fine, very warm,* said Grandet, drawing
in a deep breath of air.

* Yes, uncle, but why '

'Well, my boy,' his uncle resumed, 'I have some bad
news for you. Your father is very ill . . .'

' What am I doing here ? * cried Charles. ' Nanon ! ' he
shouted, ' order post horses ! I shall be sure to find a
carriage of some sort in the place, I suppose,' he added,
turning to his uncle, who had not stirred from where
he stood.

' Horses and a carriage are of no use,' Grandet answered,
looking at Charles, who immediately stared straight
before him in silence. 'Yes, my poor boy, you guess
what has happened ; he is dead. But that is nothing ;
there is something worse ; he has shot himself through
the head '

^ My father?'

'Yes, but that is nothing either. The newspapers

Eugenie Grandet 91

are discussing it, as if it were any business of theirs.
There, read for yourself.'

Grandet had borrowed Cruchot's paper, and now he
laid the fatal paragraph before Charles. The poor
young fellow — he was only a lad as yet — made no attempt
to hide his emotion, and burst into tears.

' Come, that is better,' said Grandet to himself.
'That look in his eyes frightened me. He is crying;
he will pull through. — Never mind, my poor nephew,'
Grandet resumed aloud, not knowing whether Charles
heard him or no, ' that is nothing, you will get over it,
but '

' Never ! never ! My father ! my father j *

' He has ruined you ; you are penniless.'

' What is that to me. Where is my father ? . . ,
my father ! ' The sound of his sobbing filled the Httle
garden, reverberated in ghastly echoes from the walls.
Tears are as infectious as laughter ; the three women
wept with pity for him. Charles broke from his uncle
without waiting to hear more, and sprang into the yard,
found the staircase, and fled to his own room, where he
flung himself across the bed and buried his face in the
bedclothes, that he might give way to his grief in
solitude as far as possible from these relations.

'Let him alone till the first shower is over,' said
Grandet, going back to the parlour. Eugenie and her
mother had hastily returned to their places, had
dried their eyes, and were sewing with cold trembling
fingers.

• 'But that fellow is good for nothing,' went on
Grandet; 'he is so taken up with dead folk that he
doesn't even think about the money.' -»^

Eugenie shuddered to hear the most sacred of sorrows
spoken of in such a way ; from that moment she began
to criticise her father. Charles's sobs, smothered though
they were, rang through that house of echoes ; the
sounds seemed to come from under the earth, a heart

9 2 Eugenie Grandet

rending wail that grew fainter towards the ena ot the
day, and only ceased as night drew on.

' Poor boy ! * said Mme. Grandet.

It was an unfortunate remark ! Goodman Grandet
looked at his wife, then at Eugenie, then at the sugar
basin ; he recollected the sumptuous breakfast prepared
that morning for their unhappy kinsman, and planted
himself in the middle of the room.

' Oh ! by the by,' he said, in his usual cool, deliberate
way, ' I hope you will not carry your extravagance
any further, Mme. Grandet j I do not give you MY
money for you to squander it on sugar for that young
rogue.'

'Mother had nothing whatever to do with it,' said
Eugenie. ' It was I '

'Because you are come of age,' Grandet interrupted
his daughter, ' you think you can set yourself to thwart
me, I suppose ? Mind what you are about, Eugenie '

'But, father, your own brother's son ought not to
have to go without sugar in your house.'

' Tut, tut, tut, tut ! ' came from the cooper in a
cadence of four semitones. ' 'Tis " my nephew " here,
and " my brother's son " there ; Charles is nothing to us,
he has not a brass farthing. His father is a bankrupt,
and when the young sprig has cried as much as he
wishes, he shall clear out of this ; I will not have my
house turned topsy-turvy for him.'

' What is a bankrupt, father ? ' asked Eugenic.

' A bankrupt,' replied her father, ' is guilty of the
most dishonourable action that can dishonour a man.'

'It must be a very great sin,' said Mme. Grandet,
' and our brother will perhaps be eternally lost.'

' There you are with your preachments,' her husband
retorted, shrugging his shoulders. 'A bankrupt,
Eugenie,' her father continued, 'is a thief whom the
law unfortunately takes under its protection. People
trusted Guillaume Grandet with their goods, confiding

Eugenie Grandet 9J

in his character for fair-dealing and honesty ; he has taken
all they have, and left them nothing but the eyes in their
heads to cry over their losses vi^ith. A bankrupt is worse than
a highwayman ; a highwayman sets upon you, and you
have a chance to defend yourself; he risks his life besides,
while the other Charles is disgraced in fact.*

The words filled the poor girl's heart ; they weighed
upon her with all their weight ; she herself was so
scrupulously conscientious ; no flower in the depths o{
a forest had grown more delicately free from spot or
stain ; she knew none of the maxims of worldly wisdom,
and nothing of its quibbles and its sophistries. So she
accepted her father's cruel definition and sweeping
statements as to bankrupts ; he drew no distinction
between a fraudulent bankruptcy and a failure from
unavoidable causes, and how should she ?

' But, father, could you not have prevented this mis-
fortune ? '

* My brother did not ask my advice ; besides, his
liabilities amount to four millions.'

* How much is a million, father ? ' asked Eugenie, with
the simplicity of a child who would fain have its wish
fulfilled at once.

*A million ?' queried Grandet. * Why, it is a million
francs, four hundred thousand five-franc pieces ; there
are twenty sous in a franc, and it takes five francs of
twenty sous each to make a five-franc piece.'

' Afon Dieu ! Man Dieu ! ' cried Eugenie, ' how came
my uncle to have four millions of his own ? Is there
really anybody in France who has so many millions as
that ? '

Grandet stroked his daughter's chin and smiled. The
wen seemed to grow larger.

' What will become of cousin Charles ? '

' He will set out for the East Indies, and try to make
a fortune. That is his father's wish.'

' But has he any money to go with ? '

94 Eugenie Grandet

' I shall pay his passage out as far as . . yes ... as
far as Nantes/

Eugenie sprang up and flung her arms about her
father's neck.

' Oh ! father,' she said, ' you are good ! '

Her warm embrace embarrassed Grandet somewhat,
perhaps, too, his conscience was not quite at ease.

' Does it take a long while to make a million ? ' she
asked.

' Lord ! yes,' said the cooper ; ' you know what a
Napoleon is ; well, then, it takes fifty thousand of them
to make a million.'

' Mamma, we will have a neuvaine said for him.'

* That was what I was thinking,' her mother replied.

* Just like you ! always thinking how to spend money.
Really, one might suppose that we had any amount of
money to throw away ! '

As he spoke, a sound of low hoarse sobbing, more
ominous than any which had preceded it, came from the
garret. Eugenie and her mother shuddered.

' Nanon,' called Grandet, ' go up and see that he is
not killing himself.'

' Look here ! you two,' he continued, turning to his
wife and daughter, whose cheeks grew white at his tones,
' there is to be no nonsense, mind ! I am leaving the
house. I am going round to see the Dutchmen who are
going to-day. Then I shall go to Cruchot's, and have a
talk with him about all this.'

He went out. As soon as the door closed upon
Grandet, Eugenie and her mother breathed more freely.
The girl had never felt constraint in her father's presence
until that morning ; but a few hours had wrought rapid
changes in her ideas and feelings.

' Mamma, how many louis is a hogshead of wine worth ? '

'Your father gets something between a hundred and
a hundred and fifty francs for his ; sometimes two
hundred I believe, from what I have heard him say.'

Eugenie Grandct pj

'And would there be fourteen hundred hogsheads in
a vintage ? '

*I don't know how many there are, child, upon my
word ; your father never talks about business to me.'

'But, anyhow, papa must be rich.'

* May be. But M. Cruchot told me that your father
bought Froidfond two years ago. That would be a
heavy pull on him.'

Eugenie, now at a loss as to her father's wealth, went
no further with her arithmetic.

* He did not even so much as see me, the poor dear ! '
said Nanon on her return. ' He is lying there on his
bed like a calf, crying like a Magdalen, you never saw
the like ! Poor young man, what can be the matter
with him ? '

' Let us go up at once and comfort him, mamma ; if
we hear a knock, we will come downstairs.'

There was something in the musical tones of her
daughter's voice which Mme. Grandet could not resist.
Eugenie was sublime ; she was a girl no longer, she
was a woman. With beating hearts they climbed the
stairs and went together to Charles's room. The door
was open. The young man saw nothing, and heard
nothing ; he was absorbed in his grief, an inarticulate cry
broke from him now and again.

' How he loves his father ! * said Eugenie in a low
voice, and in her tone there was an unmistakable accent
which betrayed the passion in her heart, and hopes of
which herself was unaware. Mme. Grandet, with the
quick instinct of a mother's love, glanced at her daughter
and spoke in a low voice in her ear.

' Take care,' she said, ' or you may love him.*

' Love him ! ' said Eugenie. ' Ah ! if you only knew
what my father said.'

Charles moved slightly as he lay, and saw his aunt and
cousin.

' I have lost my father,' he cried j ' my poor father !

g6 Eugenie Grandet

If he had only trusted me and told me about his losses^
we might have worked together to repair them. Alon
Dieu ! my kind father ! I was so sure that I should see
him again, and I said goodbye so carelessly, I am afraid,
never thinking . . .'

His words were interrupted by sobs.

' We will surely pray for him,' said Mme. Grandet,
' Submit yourself to the will of God.*

* Take courage, cousin,' said Eugenie gently ; ' nothing
can give your father back to you j you must now think
how to save your honour . . .'

A woman always has her wits about her, even in her
capacity of comforter, and with instinctive tact Eugenie
sought to divert her cousin's mind from his sorrow by
leading him to think about himself.

' My honour ? ' cried the young man, hastily pushing
back the hair from his eyes. He sat upright upon the
bed, and folded his arms. ' Ah ! true. My uncle said
that my father had failed.*

He hid his face in his hands with a heartrending cry
of pain.

* Leave me ! leave me ! cousin Eugenie,' he entreated.
* Oh ! God forgive my father, for he must have been
terribly unhappy ! '

There was something in the sight of this young sorrow,
this utter abandonment of grief, that was horribly
engaging. It was a sorrow that shrank from the gaze
of others, and Charles's gesture of entreaty that they
should leave him to himself was understood by Eugenie
and her mother. They went silently downstairs again,
took their places by the great window, and sewed on for
nearly an hour without a word to each other.

Eugenie had looked round the room ; it was a stolen
glance. In one of those hasty surveys by which a girl
sees everything in a moment, she had noticed the pretty
trifles on the toilette-table — the scissors, the ra2wrs
mounted with gold. The gleams of splendour and

Eugenie Grandet p7

luxury, seen amidst all this misery, made Charles still
more interesting in her eyes, perhaps by the very force of
the contrast. Their life had been so lonely and so quiet \
such an event as this, with its painful interest, had never
broken the monotony of their lives, little had occurred to
stir their imaginations, and now this tragical drama was
being enacted under their eyes.

' Mamma,' said Eugenie, ' shall we wear mourn-
ing?'

' Your father will decide that,' replied Mme. Grandet,
and once more they sewed in silence. Eugenie's needle
moved with a mechanical regularity, which betrayed her
preoccupation of mind. The first wish of this adorable
girl was to share her cousin's mourning. About four
o'clock a sharp knock at the door sent a sudden thrill of
terror through Mme. Grandet.

' What can have brought your father back ? ' she said
to her daughter.

The vinegrower came in in high good-humour. He
rubbed his hands so energetically that nothing but a skin
like leather could have borne it, and indeed his hands were
tanned like Russia leather, though the fragrant pine-rosin
and incense had been omitted in the process. For a
time he walked up and down and looked at the weather,
but at last his secret escaped him.

' I have hooked them, wife,' he said, without stam-
mering ; ' I have them safe. Our wine is sold ! The
Dutchmen and Belgians were setting out this morning ;
I hung about in the market-place in front of their inn,
looking as simple as I could. What 's-his-name — you
know the man — came up to me. All the best growers
are hanging off and holding their vintages ; they wanted
to wait, and so they can, I have not hindered them. Our
Belgian was at his wits' end, I saw that. So the bargain
was struck ; he is taking the whole of our vintage at
two hundred francs the hogshead, half of it paid down at
once in gold, and I have promissory notes for the rest.

G

9$ Eugenie Grandet

There are six louis for you. In three months' time
prices will go down.'

The last words came out quietly enough, but there
was something so sardonic in the tone that if the Httle
knots of growers, then standing in the twilight in the
market-place of Saumur, in dismay at the news of
Grandet's sale, had heard him speak, they would have
shuddered ; there would have been a panic on the market
— wines would have fallen fifty per cent.

* You have a thousand hogsheads this year, father, have
you not ? ' asked Eugenie.

' Yes, little girl.'

These words indicated that the cooper's joy had indeed
reached high-water mark.

' That will mean two hundred thousand francs ? *

' Yes, Mademoiselle Grandet.'

' Well, then, father, you can easily help Charles.'

The surprise, the wrath and bewilderment with which
Belshazzar beheld Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin written
upon his palace wall were as nothing compared with
Grandet's cold fury ; he had forgotten all about Charles,
and now he found that all his daughter's inmost thoughts
were of his nephew, and that this arithmetic of hers
referred to him. It was exasperating.

' Look here ! ' he thundered ; ' ever since that scape-
grace set foot in my house everything has gone askew.
You take it upon yourselves to buy sugar-plums, and make
a great set-out for him. I will not have these doings.
I should think, at my age, I ought to know what is right
and proper to do. At any rate, I have no need to take
lessons from my daughter, nor from any one else. I shall
do for my nephew whatever it is right and proper for me to
do ; it is no business of yours, you need not meddle in it. —
And now, as for you, Eugenie,' he added, turning towards
her, ' if you say another word about it, I will send you
and Nanon off to the Abbey at Noyers, see if I don't.
Where is that boy ? has he come downstairs yet ? * \

Eugenie Grandet 99

* No, dear,* answered Mme. Grandet.

* Why, what is he doing then ? '

* He is crying for his father,* Eugenie said.
Grandet looked at his daughter, and found nothing to

say. There was some touch of the father even in him.
He took one or two turns up and down, and then went
straight to his strong-room to think over possible invest-
ments. He had thoughts of buying consols. Those
two thousand acres of woodland had brought him in six
hundred thousand francs ; then there was the money
from the sale of the poplars, there was last year's income
from various sources, and this year's savings, to say
nothing of the bargain which he had just concluded j so
that, leaving those two hundred thousand francs out of
the question, he possessed a lump sum of nine hundred
thousand livres. That twenty per cent., to be made in
so short a time upon his outlay, tempted him. Consols
stood at seventy. He jotted down his calculations on
the margin of the paper that had brought the news of his
brother's death ; the moans of his nephew sounded in his
ears the while, but he did not hear them ; he went on
with his work till Nanon thumped vigorously on the
thick wall to summon her master to dinner. On the
last step of the staircase beneath the archway, Grandet
paused and thought.

' There is the interest beside the eight per cent. — I will
do it. Fifteen hundred thousand francs in two years
time, in gold from Paris too, full weight. — Well, what
has become of my nephew ? *

* He said he did not want anything,' replied Nanon.
* He ought to eat, or he will fall ill.*

* It is so much saved,' was her master's comment.

* Lord ! yes,' she replied.

* Pooh ! he will not keep on crying for ever. Hunger
drives the wolf from the wood.'

'i Dinner was a strangely silent meal. When the cloth
/ had been removed, Mme. Grandet spoke to her husband.

lOO Eugenie Grandet

' We ought to go into mourning, dear.'

' Really, Mme. Grandet, you must be hard up for ways
of getting rid of money. Mourning is in the heart ; it is
not put on with clothes.*

* But for a brother mourning is indispensable, and the
Church bids us '

' Then buy mourning out of your six louis ; a band of
crape will do for me ; you can get me a band of crape.'

Eugenie said nothing, and raised her eyes to heaven.
Her generous instincts, so long repressed and dormant,
had been suddenly awakened, and every kindly thought
had been harshly checked as it had arisen. Outwardly this
evening passed just as thousands of others had passed in
their monotonous lives, but for the two women it was
the most painful that they had ever spent. Eugenie
sewed without raising her head ; she took no notice of
the workbox which Charles had looked at so scornfully
yesterday evening. Mme. Grandet knitted away at hei
cufFs. Grandet sat twirling his thumbs, absorbed in
schemes which should one day bring about results that
would startle Saumur. Four hours went by. Nobody
dropped in to see them. As a matter of fact, the whole
town was ringing with the news of Grandet's sharp
practice, following on the news of his brother's failure
and his nephew's arrival. So imperatively did Saumur
feel the need to thrash these matters thoroughly out,
that all the vinegrowers, great or small, were assembled
beneath the des Grassins' roof, and frightful were the
imprecations which were launched at the head of their
late Mayor.

Nanon was spinning ; the whirr of her wheel was the
only sound in the great room beneath the grey-painted
rafters.

'Our tongues don't go very fast,' she said, showing
her large teeth, white as blanched almonds.

*■ There is no call for them to go,' answered Grandet,
roused from his calculations.

Eugenie Grandet koi

He beheld a vision of the future — he saw eight millions
in three years time — he had set forth on a long voyage
upon a golden sea.

' Let us go to bed. I will go up and wish my nephew
a goodnight from you all, and see if he wants anything.'

Mme. Grandet stayed on the landing outside her room
door to hear what her worthy husband might say to
Charles. Eugenie, bolder than her mother, went a step
or two up the second flight.

' Well, nephew, you are feeling unhappy ? Yes, cry,
it is only natural, a father is a father. But we must bear
our troubles patiently. Whilst you have been crying, I
have been thinking for you ; I am a kind uncle, you see.
Come, don't lose heart. Will you take a little wine ?
Wine costs nothing at Saumur ; it is common here ; they
oiFer it as they might offer you a cup of tea in the Indies.
— But you are all in the dark,' Grandet went on. ' That 's
bad, that 's bad ; one ought to see what one is doing.'

Grandet went to the chimney-piece.

' What ! ' he cried, ' a wax candle ! Where the devil
have they fished that from ? I believe the wenches
would pull up the floor of my house to cook eggs for that
boy.'

Mother and daughter, hearing these words, fled to
their rooms, and crept into their beds like frightened
mice.

' Mme. Grandet, you have a lot of money somewhere,
it seems,' said the vinegrower, walking into his wife's
rooms.

' I am saying my prayers, dear ; wait a little,' faltered
the poor mother.

' The devil take your pious notions ! ' growled
Grandet.

Misers have no belief in a life to come, the present is
all in all to them. But if this thought gives an insight '
into the miser's springs of action, it possesses a wider
application, it throws a pitiless light upon our own era —

io2 ' ' '^^ ' * ' ' Eugenvc Grandet

for money is the one all-powerful force, ours is pre-
eminently the epoch when money is the lawgiver,
feocially and politically. Books and institutions, theories
and practice, all alike combine to weaken the belief in a
future life, the foundation on which the social edifice
has been slowly reared for eighteen hundred years. The
grave has almost lost its terrors for us. That Future
which awaited us beyond the Requiem has been trans-
ported into the present, and one hope and one ambition
possesses us all — to pass per fas et nefas into this earthly
paradise of luxury, vanity, and pleasure, to deaden the
soul and mortify the body for a brief possession of this
promised land, just as in other days men were found
willing to lay down their lives and to suffer martyrdom
for the hope ot eternal bliss. This thought can be read
at large ; it is stamped upon our age, which asks of the
voter — the man who makes the laws — not 'What do
you think ? ' but ' What can you pay ? ' — And what will
become of us when this doctrine has been handed down
from the bourgeoisie to the people ?

' Mme. Grandet, have you finished ? ' asked the
cooper.

' I am praying for you, dear.'

' Very well, good night. To-morrow morning I shall
have something to say to you.'

Poor woman ! she betook herself to sleep like a school-
boy who has not learned his lessons, and sees before him
the angry face of the master when he wakes. Sheer
terror led her to wrap the sheets about her head to shut
out all sounds, but just at that moment she felt a kiss on
her forehead ; it was Eugenie who had slipped into the
room in the darkness, and stood there barefooted in her
nightdress.

' Oh ! mother, my kind mother,' she said, ' I shall tell
him to-morrow morning that it was all my doing.'

' No, don't ; if you do, he will send you away to Noyers,
Let me manage it ; he will not eat me, after all.'

Eugenie Grander 103

* Oh ! mamma, do you hear ? '

' What ? '

' He is crying still.'

' Go back to bed, dear. The floor is damp, it will
strike cold to your feet.'

So ended the solemn day, which had brought for the
poor wealthy heiress a lifelong burden of sorrow ; never
again would Eugenie Grandet sleep as soundly or as
lightly as heretofore. It not seldom happens that at
some time in their lives this or that human being will ,
act literally 'unlike himself,' and yet in very truth in li
accordance with his nature. Is it not rather that we ' '
form our hasty conclusions of him without the aid of
such light as psychology affords, without attempting to
trace the mysterious birth and growth of the causes
which led to these unforeseen results ? And this passion,
which had its roots in the depths of Eugenie's nature,
should perhaps be studied as if it were the delicate fibre
of some living organism to discover the secret of its
growth. It was a passion that would influence her
whole life, so that one day it would be sneeringly called
a malady. Plenty of people would prefer to consider a
catastrophe improbable rather than undertake the task
of tracing the sequence of the events that led to it, to
discovering how the links of the chain were forged one
by one in the mind of the actor. In this case Eugenie's
past life will suffice to keen observers of human nature ;
her artless impulsiveness, her sudden outburst of tender-
ness will be no surprise to them. Womanly pity, that
treacherous feeling, had filled her soul but the more
completely because her life had been so uneventful that
it had never been so called forth before.

So the trouble and excitement of the day disturbed he»*
rest ; she woke again and again to listen for any sound
from her cousin's room, thinking that she still heard the
moans that all day long had vibrated through her heart.
Sometimes she seemed to see him lying up there, dying

104 Eugenie Grandet

of grief; sometimes she dreamed that he was being
[ starved to death. Towards morning she distinctly heard
I a terrible cry. She dressed herself at once, and in the
dim light of the dawn fled noiselessly up the stairs to hqr
cousin's room. The door stood open, the wax candle
had burned itself down to the socket. Nature had
asserted herself; Charles, still dressed, was sleeping in the
armchair, with his head fallen forward on the bed ; he
had been dreaming as famished people dream. Eugenie
admired the fair young face. It was flushed and tear-
stained ; the eyelids were swollen with weeping ; he
seemed to be still crying in his sleep, and Eugenie's own
tears fell fast. Some dim feeling that his cousin was
present awakened Charles ; he opened his eyes, and saw
her distress.

' Pardon me, cousin,' he said dreamily. Evidently
he had lost all reckoning of time, and did not know where
he was.

'There are hearts here that feel for you, cousin, and
we thought that you might perhaps want something. You
should go to bed ; you will tire yourself out if you sleep
like that.'

' Yes,' he said, ' that is true.'

' Goodbye,' she said, and fled, half in confusion, half
glad that she had come. Innocence alone dares to be
thus bold, and virtue armed with knowledge weighs its
' actions as carefully as vice.

Eugenie had not trembled in her cousin's presence,
but when she reached her own room again she could
scarcely stand. Her ignorant life had suddenly come to
an end ; she remonstrated with herself, and blamed
herself again and again. ' What will he think of me ?
He will believe that I love him.' Yet she knew that
this was exactly what she wished him to believe. Love
spoke plainly within her, knowing by instinct how love
calls forth love. The moment when she stole into her
cousin's room became a memorable event in the girl's

Eugenic Grandet 105

lonely life. Are there not thoughts and deeds which, in
love, are for some souls like a solemn betrothal ?

An hour later she went to her mother's room, to help
her to dress, as she always did. Then the two women
went downstairs and took their places by the window,
and waited for Grandet's coming in the anxiety which
freezes or burns. Some natures cower, and others grow
reckless, when a scene or painful agitation is in prospect ;
the feeling of dread is so widely felt that domestic
animals will cry out when the slightest pain is inflicted
on them as a punishment, while the same creature if
hurt inadvertently will not utter a sound.

The cooper came downstairs, spoke in an absent-
minded way to his wife, kissed Eugenie, and sat down
to table. He seemed to have forgotten last night's
threats.

* What has become of my nephew ? The child is not
much in the way.'

' He is asleep, sir,' said Nanon.

'So much the better, he won't want a wax candle for
that,' said Grandet facetiously.

His extraordinary mildness and satirical humour puzzled
Mme. Grandet ; she looked earnestly at her husband.
The goodman — here perhaps it may be observed that in
Touraine, Anjou, Poitou, and Brittany the designation
goodman [bonhomme)^ which has been so often applied to
Grandet, conveys no idea of merit ; it is allowed to
people of the worst temper as well as to good-natured
idiots, and is applied without distinction to any man of a
certain age — the goodman, therefore, took up his hat and
gloves with the remark —

' I am going to have a look round in the market-place ;
I want to meet the Cruchots.'

' Eugenie, your father certainly has something on
his mind.'

As a matter of fact, Grandet always slept but little, and
was wont to spend half the night in revolving and

io6 Eugenie Grandet

maturing schemes, a process by which his views, observa-
tions, and plans gained amazingly in clearness and pre-
cision ; indeed, this was the secret of that constant success
which was the admiration of Saumur. Time and
patience combined will effect most things, and the
man who accomplishes much is the man with the
\ strong will who can wait. The miser's life is a con-

stant exercise of every human faculty in the service of
a personality. He believes in self-love and interest,
and in no other motives of action, but interest is in some
> .. sort another form of self-love, to wit, a practical form
I dealing with the tangible and the concrete, and both
forms are comprised in one master-passion, for self-love
and interest are but two manifestations of egoism.
Hence perhaps the prodigious interest which a miser
excites when cleverly put upon the stage. What man
is utterly without ambition ? And what social ambition
can be obtained without money ? Every one has some-
thing in common with this being ; he is a personification
of humanity, and yet is revolting to all the feelings of
humanity.

Grandet really ' had something on his mind,' as his wife
used to say. In Grandet, as in every miser, there was
a keen relish for the game, a constant craving to play
men off one against another for his own benefit, to
mulct them of their crowns without breaking the law.
And did not every victim who fell into his clutches
renew his sense of power, his just contempt for the weak
of the earth who let themselves fall such an easy prey ?
Ah ! who has understood the meaning of the lamb that
lies in peace at the feet of God, that most touching
symbol of meek victims who are doomed to suffer here
below, and of the future that awaits them hereafter,
of weakness and suffering glorified at last ? But here on
earth it is quite otherwise j the lamb is the miser's
legitimate prey, and by him (when it is fat enough) it
is contemptuously penned, killed, cooked, and eaten.

Eugenie Grandet 107

On money and on this feeling of contemptuous superiority
the miser thrives.

During the night this excellent man's ideas had taken
an entirely new turn -, hence his unusual mildness. He
had been weaving a web to entangle them in Paris ; he
would envelop them in its toils, they should be as clay
in his hands ; they should hope and tremble, come and
go, toil and sweat, and all for his amusement, all for the
old cooper in the dingy room at the head of the worm-
eaten staircase in the old house at Saumur ; it tickled his
sense of humour.

He had been thinking about his nephew. He wanted
to save his dead brother's name from dishonour in a way
that should not cost a penny either to his nephew or to
himself He was about to invest his money for three
years, his mind was quite at Jeisure from his own affairs ;
he really needed some outlet for his malicious energy,
and here was an opportunity supplied by his brother's
failure. The claws were idle, he had nothing to squeeze
between them, so he would pound the Parisians for
Charles's benefit, and exhibit himself in the light of
an excellent brother at a very cheap rate. As a matter
of fact, the honour of the family name counted for very
little with him in this matter ; he looked at it from
the purely impersonal point of view of the gambler,
who likes to see a game well played although it is no
affair of his. The Cruchots were necessary to him, but
he did not mean to go in search of them ; they should
come to him. That very evening the comedy should
begin, the main outlines were decided upon already,
to-morrow he would be held up as an object of
admiration all over the town, and his generosity should
not cost him a farthing !

Eugenie, in her father's absence, was free to busy
herself openly for her cousin, to feel the pleasure of
pouring out for him in many ways the wealth of pity
that filled her heart ; for in pity alone women are

io8 Eugenie Grandet

content that we should feel their superiority, and the
sublimity of devotion is the one height which they can
pardon us for leaving to them.

Three or four times Eugenie went to listen to her
cousin's breathing, that she might know whether he was
awake or still sleeping ; and when she was sure that he
was rising, she turned her attention to his breakfast, and
cream, coffee, fruit, eggs, plates, and glasses were all in
turn the objects of her especial care. She softly climbed
the rickety stairs to listen again. Was he dressing ?
Was he still sobbing ? She went to the door at last and
spoke —

' Cousin ! '

' Yes, cousin.'

' Would you rather have breakfast downstairs or up
here in your room ? '

' Whichever you please.'

* How do you feel ? '

' I am ashamed to say that I am hungry.'

This talk through the closed door was like an episode
in a romance for Eugenie.

' Very well then, we will bring your breakfast up to
your room, so that my father may not be vexed about
it.'

She sprang downstairs, and ran into the kitchen with
the swiftness of a bird.

' Nanon, just go and set his room straight.'

The familiar staircase which she had gone up and
down so often, and which echoed with every sound,
seemed no longer old in Eugenie's eyes ; it was radiant
with light, it seemed to speak a language which she
understood, it was young again as she herself was, young
like the love in her heart. And the mother, the kind,
indulgent mother, was ready to lend herself to her
daughter's whims, and as soon as Charles's room was ready
they both went thither to sit with him. Does not
Christian charity bid us comfort the mourner ? Little

Eugenie Grandet 109

religious sophistries were not wanting by which the
women justified themselves.

Charles Grandet received the most tender and affec-
tionate care. Such delicate tact and sweet kindness
touched him very closely in his desolation ; and for
these two souls, they found a moment's freedom from
the restraint under which they lived ; they were at home
in an atmosphere of sorrow ; they could give him the
quick sympathy of fellowship in misfortune. Eugenie
could avail herself of the privilege of relationship to set
his linen in order, and to arrange the trifles that lay on the
dressing-tablei; she could admire the wonderful knick-
knacks at her leisure j all the paraphernalia of luxury,
the delicately-wrought gold and silver passed through her
hands, her fingers dwelt lingeringly on them under the
pretext of looking closely at the workmanship.

Charles was deeply touched by the generous interest
which his aunt and cousin took in him. He knew
Parisian life quite sufficiently to know that under these
circumstances his old acquaintances and friends would
have grown cold and distant at once. But his trouble
had brought out all the peculiar beauty of Eugenie's
character, and he began to admire the simplicity of
manner which had provoked his amusement but yester-
day. So when Eugenie waited on her cousin with such
frank goodwill, taking from Nanon the earthenware
bowl full of coffee and cream to set it before him herself,
the Parisian's eyes filled with tears ; and when he met
her kind glance, he took her hand in his and kissed it.

* Well, what is the matter now ? ' she asked.

' Oh ! they are tears of gratitude,' he answered.

Eugenie turned hastily away, took the candles from
the chimney-piece and held them out to Nanon.

' Here,' she said, * take these away.'

When she could look at her cousin again, the flush
was still on her face, but her eyes at least did not betray
her, and gave no sign of the excess of joy that flooded

I lo Eugenie Grandet

her heart ; yet the same thought was dawning in both
their souls, and could be read in the eyes of either, and
they knew that the future was theirs. This thrill of
happiness was all the sweeter to Charles in his great
sorrow, because it was so little expected.

There was a knock at the door, and both the women
hurried down to their places by the window. It was
lucky for them that their flight downstairs was suffi-
ciently precipitate, and that they were at their work
when Grandet came in, for if he had met them beneath
the archway, all his suspicions would be aroused at once.
After the mid-day meal, which he took standing, the
keeper, who had not yet received his promised reward,
appeared from Froidfond, bringing with him a hare,
some partridges shot in the park, a few eels, and a couple
of pike sent by him from the miller's.

' Aha ! so here is old Cornoiller ; you come just when
you are wanted, like salt fish in Lent. Is all that fit to
eat ? *

' Yes, sir ; all killed the day before yesterday.'

' Come, Nanon, look alive ! Just take this, it will do
for dinner to-day ; the two Cruchots are coming.'

Nanon opened her eyes with amazement, and stared
first at one and then at another.

' Oh ! indeed,' she said ; ' and where are the herbs and
the bacon to come from ? *

'Wife,' said Grandet, Met Nanon have six francs, and
remind me to go down into the cellar to look-out a bottle
of good wine.'

' Well, then, M. Grandet,' the gamekeeper began (he
wished to see the question of his salary properly settled,
and was duly primed with a speech), 'M. Grandet—- — '

'Tut, tut, tut,' said Grandet, 'I know what you are
going to say ; you are a good fellow, we will see about
that to-morrow, I am very busy to-day. Give him five
francs, wife,' he added, looking at Mme. Grandet, and
with that he beat a retreat. The poor woman was only

Eugenie Grandet iii

too happy to purchase peace at the price of eleven francs.
She knew by experience that Grandet usually kept quiet
for a fortnight after he had made her disburse coin by
coin the money which he had given her.

'There, Cornoiller,' she said, as she slipped ten francs
into his hand ; ' we will repay you for your services one
of these days.'

Cornoiller had no answer ready, so he went.

'Madame,' said Nanon, who had by this time put on
her black bonnet and had a basket on her arm, ' three
francs will be quite enough ; keep the rest. I shall
manage just as well with three.'

' Let us have a good dinner, Nanon ; my cousin is
coming downstairs,' said Eugenie.

' There is something very extraordinary going on, I am
sure,' said Mme. Grandet. ' This makes the third time
since we were married that your father has asked any one
here to dinner.'

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon ; Eugenic
and her mother had laid the cloth and set the table for
six persons, and the master of the house had brought up
two or three bottles of the exquisite wines, which are
jealously hoarded in the cellars of the vine-growing
district.

Charles came into the dining-room looking white and
sad ; there was a pathetic charm about his gestures, his
face, his looks, the tones of his voice ; his sorrow had
given him the interesting look that women like so well,
and Eugenie only loved him the more because his features
were worn with pain. Perhaps, too, this trouble had
brought them nearer in other ways. Charles was no
longer the rich and handsome young man who lived in a
sphere far beyond her ken ; he was a kinsman in deep
and terrible distress, and sorrow is a great leveller.
Woman has this in common with the angels — all suffer-
ing creatures are under her protection.

Charles and Eugenie understood each other without a

111 "" ' Eugenie Grandet

word being spoken on either side. The poor dandy
of yesterday, fallen from his high estate, to-day was an
orphan, who sat in a corner of the room, quiet, composed,
and proud ; but from time to time he met his cousin's
eyes, her kind and affectionate glance rested on him, and
compelled him to shake off his dark and sombre broodings,
and to look forward with her to a future full of hope, in
which she loved to think that she might share.

The news of Grandet's dinner-party caused even
greater excitement in Saumur than the sale of his vintage,
although this latter proceeding had been a crime of the
blackest dye, an act of high treason against the vine-
growing interest. If Grandet's banquet to the Cruchots
has been prompted by the same idea which on a memor-
able occasion cost Alcibiades' dog its tail, history might
perhaps have heard of the miser ; but he felt himself to
be above public opinion in this town which he exploited j
he held Saumur too cheap.

It was not long before the des Grassins heard of
Guillaume Grandet's violent end and impending bank-
ruptcy. They determined to pay a visit to their client
that evening, to condole with him in his affliction, and
to show a friendly interest ; while they endeavoured to
discover the motives which could have led Grandet to
invite the Cruchots to dinner at such a time.

Precisely at five o'clock President C. de Bonfons and
his uncle the notary arrived, dressed up to the nines this
time. The guests seated themselves at table, and began
by attacking their dinner with remarkably good appetites.
Grandet was solemn, Charles was silent, Eugenie was
dumb, and Mme. Grandet said no more than usual ; if it
had been a funeral repast, it could not well have been less
lively. When they rose from the table, Charles addressed
his aunt and uncle —

' Will you permit me to withdraw ? I have some long
and difficult letters to write,*

* By all means, nephew.*

Eugenie Grandet 113

Wherj Charles had left the room, and his amiable rela-
tive could fairly assume that he was out of earshot and
deep in his correspondence, Grandet gave his wife a
sinister glance.

' Mme. Grandet, what we are going to say will be
Greek to you ; it is half-past seven o'clock, you ought to
be off to bed by this time. Good night, my daughter.'
He kissed Eugenie, and mother and daughter left the room.

Then the drama began. Now, if ever in his life,
Grandet displayed all the shrewdness which he had
acquired in the course of his long experience of men and
business, and all the cunning which had gained him the
nickname of ' old fox * among those who had felt his
teeth a little too sharply. Had the ambition of the late
Mayor of Saumur soared a little higher ; if he had had the
luck to rise to a higher social sphere, and destiny had sent
him to mingle in some congress in which the fate of
nations is at stake, the genius which he was now devoting
to his own narrow ends would doubtless have done France
glorious service. And yet, after all, the probability is
that once away from Saumur the worthy cooper would
have cut but a poor figure, and that minds, like certain
plants and animals, are sterile when removed to a distant
climate and an alien soil.

' M-m-monsieur le P-p-president, you were s-s-saying
that b-b-bankruptcy '

Here the trick of stammering which it had pleased
the vinegrower to assume so long ago that every one
believed it to be natural to him (like the deafness of which
he was wont to complain in rainy weather), grew so
unbearably tedious for the Cruchot pair, that as they
strove to catch the syllables, they made unconscious
grimaces, moving their lips as if they would fain finish
the words in which the cooper entangled both himself
and them at his pleasure.

And here, perhaps, is the fitting place to record the
history of Grandet's deafness and the impediment in his

H

114 Eugenic Grandet

speech. No one in Anjou had better hearing or could
speak Angevin French more clearly and distinctly than
the wily vinegrower — when he chose. Once upon a
time, in spite of all his shrewdness, a Jew had got the
better of him. In the course of their discussion the
Israelite had applied his hand to his ear, in the manner
of an ear-trumpet, the better to catch what was said, and
had gibbered to such purpose in his search for a word,
that Grandet, a victim to his own humanity, felt con-
strained to suggest to that crafty Hebrew the words and
ideas of which the Israelite appeared to be in search, to
finish himself the reasonings of the said Hebrew, to say
for that accursed alien all that he ought to have said for
himself, till Grandet ended by fairly changing places
with the Jew.

From this curious contest of wits the vinegrower did
not emerge triumphant ; indeed, for the first and last
time in his business career he made a bad bargain. But
loser though he was from a money point of view, he had
received a great practical lesson, and later on he reaped
the fruits of it. Wherefore in the end he blessed the Jew
who had shown him how to wear out the patience of an
opponent, and to keep him so closely employed in express-
ing his adversary's ideas that he completely lost sight of
his own. The present business required more deafness,
more stammering, more of the mazy circumlocutions in
which Grandet was wont to involve himself, than any
previous transaction in his life ; for, in the first place, he
wished to throw the responsibility of his ideas on some
one else ; some one else was to suggest his own schemes
to him, while he was to keep himself to himself, and
leave every one in the dark as to his real intentions.

'Mon-sieur de B-B-Bonfons.' (This was the second time
in three years that he had called the younger Cruchot
'M. de Bonfons,' and the president might well consider
that this was almost tantamount to being acknowledged
as the crafty cooper's son-in-law.)

Eugenie Grandet 115

* You were s-s-s-saying that in certain cases, p-p-p-pro-
ceedings in b-b- bankruptcy might be s-s-s-stopped
b-b-by '

' At the instance of a Tribunal of Commerce. That
is done every day of the year,' said M. C. de Bonfons,
guessing, as he thought, at old Grandet's idea, and
running away with it. ' Listen ! ' he said, and in the
most amiable way he prepared to explain himself.

' 1 am 1-listening,' replied the older man meekly, and
his face assumed a demure expression ; he looked like
some small boy who is laughing in his sleeve at his
schoolmaster while appearing to pay the most respectful
attention to every word.

'When anybody who is in a large way of business
and is much looked up to, like your late brother in Paris,
for instance '

' My b-b-brother, yes.'

'When any one in that position is likely to find
himself insolvent '

' Ins-s-solvent, do they call it ? '

'Yes. When his failure is imminent, the Tribunal
of Commerce, to which he is amenable (do you follow
me ?) has power by a judgment to appoint liquidators
to wind up the business. Liquidation is not bankruptcy,
do you understand ? It is a disgraceful thing to be a
bankrupt, but a liquidation reflects no discredit on a
man.'

' It is quite a d-d-d-difFerent thing, if only it d-d-does
not cost any more,' said Grandet.

' Yes. But a liquidation can be privately arranged
without having recourse to the Tribunal of Commerce,'
said the president as he took a pinch of snufF. ' How is
a man declared bankrupt ? '

'Yes, how ? ' inquired Grandet. ' I have n-n-never
thought about it.'

' In the first place, he may himself file a petition and
leave his schedule with the clerk of the court, the debtor

1 1 6 Eugenie Grandet

himself draws it up or authorises some one else to do so,
and it is duly registered. Or, in the second place, his
creditors may make him a bankrupt. But supposing
the debtor does not file a petition, and none of his
creditors make application to the court for a judgment
declaring him bankrupt ; now let us see what happens then ! '

' Yes, let us s-s-see.'

'In that case, the family of the deceased, or his
representatives, or his residuary legatee, or the man
himself (if he is not dead)^ or his friends for him (if
he has absconded), liquidate his affairs. Now, possibly,
you may intend to do this in your brother's case \ '
inquired the president.

' Oh ! Grandet,' exclaimed the notary, ' that would
be acting very handsomely. We in the provinces have
our notions of honour. If you saved your name from
dishonour, for it is your name, you would be '

'Sublime ! ' cried the president, interrupting his uncle.

' Of course, my b-b-brother's n-n-name was Grandet,
th-that is certain sure, I d-d-don't deny it, and anyhow
this 1-1-1-1-liquidation would be a very g-good thing for
my n-n-nephew in every way, and I am very f-f-fond of
him. But we shall see. I know n-n-nothing of those
sharpers in P-Paris, and their t-tricks. And here am I
at S'Saumur, you see ! There are my vine-cuttings,
m-my d-d-draining ; in sh-sh-short, there are my own
af-f-fairs, to s-s-see after. / have n-n-never accepted
a bill. What is a bill ? I have t-t-taken many a one,
b-b-but I have n-n-never put my n-n-name to a piece of
p-paper. You t-t-take 'em and you can d-d-d-discount
'em, and that is all I know. I have heard s-s-say that
you can b-b-b-buy them '

' Yes,' assented the president. ' You can buy bills on
the market, less so much per cent. Do you under-
stand ? '

Grandet held his hand to his ear, and the president
repeated his remark.

Eugenie Grandet 117

*But it s-s-seems there are t-t-two s-sides to all this ? '
replied the vinegrower. 'At my age, I know n-n-n-
nothing about this s-s-s-sort of thing. I must st-top
here to l-look after the g-g-grapes, the vines d-d-don't
stand still, and the g-g-grapes have to p-pay for every-
thing. The vintage m-must be 1-1-looked after before
anything else. Then I have a g-great d-d-deal on
my hands at Froidfond that I can't p-p-possibly 1-1-1-leave
to any one else. I don't underst-t-tand a word of all
this ; it is a p-p-pretty kettle of fish, confound it ; 1 can't
1-1-leave home to s-see after it. You s-s-s-say that to
bring about a 1-1-liquidation 1 ought to be in Paris.
Now you can't be in t-t-two p-places at once unless
you are a b-b-bird.'

' / see what you mean,' cried the notary. ' Well, my
old friend, you have friends, friends of long standing
ready to do a great deal for you.'

' Come, now ! ' said the vinegrower to himself, ' so
you are making up your minds, are you ? '

' And if some one were to go to Paris, and find up
your brother Guillaume's largest creditor, and say to
him '

' Here, just 1-1-listen to me a moment,' the cooper

struck in. ' Say to him what ? S-s-something like

this : " M. Grandet of Saumur th-this, M. Grandet of
Saumur th-th-that. He 1-1-loves his brother, he has a r-r-re-
gard for hisn-nephew ; Grandet thinks a 1-1-lot of his f- family,
he means to d-do well by them. He has just s-s-sold his
vintage uncommonly well. Don't drive the thing into
b-b-b-bankruptcy, call a meeting of the creditors, and
ap-p-point 1-1-liquidators. Then s-see what Grandet
will do. You will do a great d-deal b-b-better for your-
selves by coming to an arrangement than by 1-1-letting
the 1-1-1-lawyers poke their noses into it." That is how
it is, eh ? '

' Quite so ! ' said the president.

' Because, look you here, Monsieur de Bon-Bon-Bon-

ii8 Eugenie Grandet

fons, you must 1-1-look before you 1-1-1-leap. And yon
can't d-do more than you can. A big af-f-fair like this
wants 1-1-1-looking into, or you may ru-ru-ruin yourself.
That is so, isn't it ? eh ? '

'Certainly,' said the president. *I myself am of the
opinion that in a few months time you could buy up the
debts for a fixed sum and pay by instalments. Aha !
you can trail a dog a long way with a bit of bacon.
When a man has not been declared bankrupt, as soon
as the bills are in your hands, you will be as white as
snow.'

* As s-s-s-snow ? ' said Grandet, holding his hand to
to his ear. ' S-s-s-snow ? I don't underst-t-tand.'

' Why, then, just listen to me ! ' cried the president.

' I am 1-1-listening '

' A bill of exchange is a commodity subject to
fluctuations in value. This is a deduction from Jeremy
Bentham's theory of interest. He was a publicist who
showed conclusively that the prejudices entertained
against money-lenders were irrational.'

' Bless me ! ' put in Grandet.

' And seeing that, according to Bentham, money it-
self is a commodity, and that that which money repre-
sents is no less a commodity,' the president went on ;
* and since it is obvious that the commodity called
a bill of exchange is subject to the same laws of
supply and demand that control production of all kinds,
a bill of exchange bearing this or that signature, like
this or that article of commerce, is scarce or plenti-
ful in the market, commands a high premium or is
worth nothing at all. Wherefore the decision of this

Court There ! how stupid I am, I beg your

pardon ; I mean I am of the opinion that you could
easily buy up your brother's debts for twenty-five per
cent, of their value.'

' You m-m-m-mentioned Je-je-je-jeremy Ben '

' Bentham, an Englishman.'

Eugenie Grandet 119

* That is a Jeremiah who will save us many lamenta-
tions in business matters,' said the notary, laughing.

'The English s-s-sometimes have s-s-s-sensible notions,'
said Grandet. 'Then, according to B-Bentham, how
if my b-b-brother's b-bills are worth n-n-n-nothing ? If
I am right, it looks to me as if . . , the creditors would
. . . n-no, they wouldn't. ... I underst-t-tand.'

'Let me explain all this to you,' said the president.
' In law, if you hold all the outstanding bills of the firm
of Grandet, your brother, his heirs and assigns, would
owe no one a penny. So far, so good.*

' Good,' echoed Grandet.

' And in equity ; suppose that your brother's bills were
negotiated upon the market (negotiated, do you under-
stand the meaning of that term ?) at a loss of so much per
cent. ; and suppose one of your friends happened to be pass-
ing, and bought up the bills ; there would have been no
physical force brought to bear upon the creditors, they gave
them up of their own free-will, and the estate of the late
Grandet of Paris would be clear in the eye of the law.'

' True,' Ltuttered the cooper, ' b-b-business is business.
So that is s-s-s-settled. But, for all that, you underst-
tand that it is a d-d-difficult matter. I have not the
m-m-money, nor have I the t-t-t-time, nor '

' Yes, yes ; you cannot be at the trouble. Well, now,
I will go to Paris for you if you like (you must stand
the expenses of the journey, that is a mere trifle). I
will see the creditors, and talk to them, and put them ofF;
it can all be arranged ; you will be prepared to add some-
thing to the amount realised by the liquidation so as to
get the bills into your hands.'

' We shall s-see about that ; I cannot and will not
under-t-t-take anything unless I know. . . . You can't
d-d-do more than you can, you know.'

' Quite so, quite so.'

'And 1 am quite bewildered with all these head-
splitting ideas that you have sp-prung upon me. Th-

I20 Eugenie Grandet

this is the f-f-f- first t-time in my 1-1-life that I have had
to th-th-think about such th '

* Yes, yes, you are not a consulting barrister.'

' I am a p-p-poor vineg rower, and I know n-n-nothing
about what you have just t-t-t-told me j I m-m-must
th-think it all out.'

' Well ! then,' began the president, as if he meant to
reopen the discussion.

' Nephew ! ' interrupted the notary reproachfully.

' Well, uncle ? ' answered the president.

' Let M. Grandet explain what he means to do. It
is a very important question, and you are to receive
his instructions. Our dear friend might now very
pertinently state '

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the
des Grassins ; their coming and exchange of greetings
prevented Cruchot senior from finishing his sentence.
Nor was he ill-pleased with this diversion ; Grandet was
looking askance at him already, and there was that about
the wen on the cooper's face which indicated that a
storm was brewing withm. And on sober reflection it
seemed to the cautious notary that a president of a court
of first instance was not exactly the person to dispatch
to Paris, there to open negotiations with creditors, and to
lend himself to a more than dubious transaction which,
however you looked at it, hardly squared with notions of
strict honesty ; and not only so, but he had particularly
noticed that goodman Grandet had shown not the
slightest inclination to disburse anything whatever, and
he trembled instinctively at the thought of his nephew
becoming involved in such a business. He took advantage
of the entrance of the des Grassins, took his nephew by
the arm, and drew him into the embrasure of the window.

' You have gone quite as far as there is any need,'
he said, 'that is quite enough of such zeal ; you are over-
reaching yourself in your eagerness to marry the girl.
The devil ! You should not rush into a thing open-

Eugenie Grandet I2i

mouthed, like a crow at a walnut. Leave the steering
of the ship to me for a bit, and just shift your sails
according to the wind. Now, is it a part you ought to
play, compromising your dignity as magistrate in such
a '

He broke ofF suddenly, for he heard M. des Grassins
saying to the old cooper, as he held out his hand —

' Grandet, we have heard of the dreadful misfortunes
which have befallen your family — the ruin of the firm
of Guillaume Grandet and your brother's death ; we
have come to express our sympathy with you in this sad
calamity.'

' There is only one misfortune,' the notary interrupted
at this point — 'the death of the younger M. Grandet;
and if he had thought to ask his brother for assistance,
he would not have taken his own life. Our old friend
here, who is a man of honour to his finger tips, is
prepared to discharge the debts contracted by the firm
of Grandet in Paris. In order to spare our friend the
worry of what is, after all, a piece of lawyer's business,
my nephew the president offers to start immediately
for Paris, so as to arrange with the creditors, and duly
satisfy their claims.'

The three des Grassins were thoroughly taken aback
by these words ; Grandet appeared to acquiesce in what
had been said, for he was pensively stroking his chin.
On their way to the house the family had commented
very freely upon Grandet's niggardliness, and indeed had
almost gone so far as to accuse him of fratricide.

'Ah' just what I expected!' cried the banker,
looking at his wife. ' What was I saying to you
only just now as we came along, Mme. des Grassins ?
Grandet, I said, is a man who will never swerve a hair's-
breadth from the strict course of honour -, he will not
endure the thought of the slightest spot on his name !
Money without honour is a disease. Oh ! we have a
keen sense of honour in the provinces! This is noble

122 Eugenie Grandet

— really noble of you, Grandet. I am an old soldier,
and I do not mince matters, I say what I think straight
out ; and mille tonnerres! this is sublime ! '

' Then the s-s-sub-sublime costs a great d-d- deal,'
stuttered the cooper, as the banker shook him warmly by
the hand.

' But this, my good Grandet (no offence to you, M.
le President), is simply a matter of business,' des Grassins
went on, ' and requires an experienced man of business
to deal with it. There will have to be accounts kept of
sales and outgoing expenses ; you ought to have tables of
interest at your finger ends. I must go to Paris on
business of my own, and I could undertake '

' Then we must s-s-see about it, and t-t-t-try to
arrange between us to p-p-provide for anything that
m-may t-t-turn up, but I d-d-don't want to be d-d-drawn
into anything that I would rather not d-d-d-do,' con-
tinued Grandet, * because, you see, M. le President
naturally wants me to pay his expenses.' The good
man did not stammer over these last words.

* Eh ? ' said Mme. des Grassins. ' Why, it is a pleasure
to stay in Paris ! For my part, I should be glad to go
there at my own expense.'

She made a sign to her husband, urging him to seize
this opportunity of discomfiting their enemies and cheat
them of their mission. Then she flung a withering
glance at the now crestfallen and miserable Cruchots.
Grandet seized the banker by the buttonhole and drew
him aside.

' I should feel far more confidence in you than in the
president,' he remarked ; 'and besides that,"* he added
(and the wen twitched a little), ' there are other fish
to fry. I want to make an investment. I have several
thousand francs to put into consols, and I don't mean
to pay more than eighty for them. Now, from all I
can hear, that machine always runs down at the end of
the month. You know all about these things, I expect ? '

Eugenie Grandet 123

* Tardieu ! I should think I did. Well, then, I shall
have to buy several thousand livres worth of consols for
you ? '

'Just by way of a beginning. But mum, I want to
play at this game without letting any one know about
it. You will buy them for me at the end of the month,
and say nothing to the Cruchots ; it would only annoy
them. Since you are going to Paris, we might as well
see at the same time what trumps are for my poor
nephew's sake.'

'That is an understood thing. I shall travel post
to Paris to-morrow,' said des Grassins aloud, 'and I will
come round to take your final instructions at — when
shall we say ? '

' At five o'clock, before dinner,' said the vinegrower,
rubbing his hands.

The two factions for a little while remained facing
each other. Des Grassins broke the silence again, clapping
Grandet on the shoulder, and saying —

' It is a fine thing to have a good uncle like '

' Yes, yes,' returned Grandet, falling into the stammer
again, 'without m-making any p-p-parade about it ; I am a
good uncle ; 1 1-1-loved my brother ; I will give p-p-p-proof
of it, if-if-if it d-doesn't cost '

Luckily the banker interrupted him at this point.

'We must go, Grandet. If I am to set out sooner
than I intended, 1 shall have to see after some business
at once before I go.'

' Right, quite right. I myself, in connection with
you know what, must p-p-put on my cons-s-sidering cap,
as P-President Cruchot s-s-says.'

' Plague take it ! I am no longer M. de Bonfons,'
thought the magistrate moodily, and his face fell; he
looked like a judge who is bored by the cause before
him.

The heads of the rival clans went out together. Both
had completely forgotten Grandet's treacherous crime

124 Eugenie Grandet

of that morning ; his disloyal behaviour had faded from
their minds. They sounded each other, but to no
purpose, as to the goodman*s real intentions (if inten-
tions he had) in this new turn that matters had taken.

' Are you coming with us to Mme. Dorsonval's ? *
des Grassins asked the notary.

' We are going there later on,* replied the president.
'With my uncle's permission, we will go first to see
Mile, de Gribeaucourt j I promised just to look in on her
to say good-night.'

'We shall meet again, then,' smiled Mme. des Grassins.

But when the des Grassins were at some distance from
the two Cruchots, Adolphe said to his father, ' They are
in a pretty stew, eh ? '

' Hush ! ' returned his mother, ' they can very likely
hear what we are saying, and besides, that remark of
yours was not in good taste ; it sounds Hke one of your
law school phrases.'

' Well, uncle ! ' cried the magistrate, when he saw
the des Grassins were out of earshot, ' I began by
being President de Bonfons, and ended as plain Cruchot.'

' I saw myself that you were rather put out about it ;
and the des Grassins took the wind out of our sails.
How stupid you are, for all your sharpness! Let them set
sail, on the strength of a " We shall see " from Grandet ;
be easy, my boy, Eugenie shall marry you for all that.'

A few moments later, and the news of Grandet's
magnanimity was set circulating in three houses at once;
the whole town talked of nothing but Grandet's devotion
to his brother. The sale of his vintage in utter disregard
of the agreement made among the vinegrowers was
forgotten ; every one fell to praising his scrupulous in-
tegrity, and to lauding his generosity, a quality which no
one had suspected him of possessing. There is that in
the French character which is readily excited to fury or to
passionate enthusiasm by any meteor that appears above

Eugenie Grandet 125

their horizon, that is captivated by the bravery of a
blatant fact. Can it be that collectively men have no
memories ?

As soon as Grandet had bolted the house door he
called to Nanon.

' Don't go to bed,* he said, ' and don't unchain the
dog ; there is something to be done, and we must do it
together. Cornoiller will be round with the carriage
from Froidfond at eleven o'clock. You must sit up
for him, and let him in quietly ; don't let him rap at
the door, and tell him not to make a noise. You get
into trouble with the poHceif you raise a racket at night.
And besides, there is no need to let all the quarter know
that I am going out.'

Having thus delivered himself, Grandet went up to his
laboratory, and Nanon heard him stirring about, rummag-
ing, going, and coming, all with great caution. Clearly
he had no wish to waken his wife or daughter, and above
all things he desired in nowise to excite any suspicion in
the mind of his nephew ; he had seen that a light was
burning in the young man's room, and had cursed his
relative forthwith.

In the middle of the night Eugenie heard a sound like
the groan of a dying man j her cousin was always in her
thoughts, and for her the dying man was Charles. How
white and despairing he had looked when he wished her
good-night ; perhaps he had killed himself. She hastily
wrapped herself in her capuchine, a sort of long cloak
with a hood to it, and determined to go to see for her-
self. Some rays of bright light streaming through the
cracks of her door frightened her not a little at first,
perhaps the house was on fire ; but she was soon
reassured. She could hear Nanon's heavy footsteps
outside, and the sounds of the old servant's voice mingled
with the neighing of several horses.

' Can my father be taking Charles away ? ' she asked
herself, as she set her door ajar, cautiously for fear the

126 Eugenie Grandet

hinges should creak, so that she could watch all that was
going on in the corridor.

All at once her eyes met those of her father, and,
absent and indifferent as they looked, a cold shudder ran
through her. The cooper and Nanon were coming along
carrying something which hung by a chain from a stout
cudgel, one end of which rested on the right shoulder of
either ; the something was a little barrel such as Grandet
sometimes amused himself by making in the bakehouse,
when he had nothing better to do.

' Holy Virgin ! how heavy it is, sir ! * said Nanon in a
whisper.

' What a pity it is only full of pence ! ' replied the cooper.
' Look out ! or you will knock down the candlestick.'

The scene was lighted by a single candle set between
two balusters.

' Cornoiller,' said Grandet to his gamekeeper in
partibus^ ' have you your pistols with you ? '

* No, sir. Lord, love you ! What can there be to
fear for a keg of coppers ? '

' Oh! nothing, nothing,* said Goodman Grandet.

'Besides, we shall get over the ground quickly,* the
keeper went on ; ' your tenants have picked out their best
horses for you.'

' Well, well. You did not let them know where I
was going ? '

' I did not know that myself.'

* Right. Is the carriage strongly built ? ' ,.

* That's all right, mister. Why, what is the weight
of a few paltry barrels like those of yours ? It would
carry two or three thousand of the like of them.'

* Well,' said Nanon, ' I know there's pretty well
eighteen hundred weight there^ that there is ! '

* Will you hold your tongue, Nanon ! You tell my
wife that I have gone into the country, and that I shall
be back to dinner. — Hurry up, Cornoiller j we must be in
Angers before nine o'clock.'

Eugenie Grandet 127

The carriage started. Nanon bolted the gateway,
let the dog loose, and lay down and slept in spite of her
bruised shoulder ; and no one in the quarter had any
suspicion of Grandet's journey orof its object. The worthy
man was a miracle of circumspection. Nobody ever
saw a penny lying about in that house full of gold. He
had learned that morning from the gossip on the quay
that some vessels were being fitted out at Nantes, and
that in consequence gold was so scarce there that it was
worth double its ordinary value, and speculators were
buying it in Angers. The old cooper, by the simple
device of borrowing his tenants' horses, was prepared to
sell his gold at Angers, receiving in return an order
upon the Treasury from the Receiver-General for
the sum destined for the purchase of his consols,
and an addition in the shape of the premium paid on
his gold.

'My father is going out,* said Eugenie to herself.
She had heard all that had passed from the head of the
staircase.

Silence reigned once more in the house. The rattle of
the wheels in the streets of sleeping Saumur grew more
and more distant, and at last died away. Then A was that a
sound seemed to reach Eugenie's heart before it fell on
her ears, a wailing sound that rang through the thin walls
above — it came from her cousin's room. There was a
thin line of light, scarcely wider than a knife edge,
beneath his door; the rays slanted through the darkness
and left a bright gleaming bar along the balusters of the
crazy staircase.

' He is unhappy,' she said, as she went up a little
further.

A second moan brought her to the landing above.
The door stood ajar ; she thrust it open. Charles was
sleeping in the rickety old armchair, his head drooped
over to one side, his hand hung down and nearly touched
the floor, the pen that he had let fall lay beneath his

128 Eugenie Grandet

fingers. Lying in this position, his breath came in
quick, sharp jerks that startled Eugenie, She entered
hastily.

* He must be very tired,' she said to herself, as she saw
a dozen sealed letters lying on the table. She read the
addresses — MM. Farry^ Breilman and Co.y carriage
builders , M. Buisson^ tailor ; and so forth.

' Of course, he has been settling his affairs, so that he
may leave France as soon as possible,' she thought.

Her eyes fell upon two unsealed letters. One of them
began — ' My dear Annette . . .' she felt dazed, and could
see nothing more for a moment. Her heart beat fast, her
feet seemed glued to the floor.

' His dear Annette ! He loves, he is beloved ! . .
Then there is no more hope ! . . . What does he say
to her ? ' These thoughts flashed through her heart and
brain. She read the words everywhere : on the walls, on
the very floor, in letters of fire.

' Must I give him up already ? No, I will not read
the letter. I ought not to stay. , , . And yet, even if 1
did read it ? '

She looked at Charles, gently took his head in her
hands, and propped it against the back of the chair. He
submitted like a child, who even while he is sleeping
knows that it is his mother who is bending over him, and,
without waking, feels his mother's kisses. Like a mother,
Eugenie raised the drooping hand, and, like a mother,
■" laid a soft kiss on his hair. ' Dear Annette / ' A mocking
voice shrieked the words in her ear.

' I know that perhaps I may be doing wrong, but I will
read that letter,' she said.

Eugenie turned her eyes away ; her high sense of
honour reproached her. For the first time in her life
there was a struggle between good and evil in her soul.
y Hitherto she had never done anything for which she
needed to blush. Love and curiosity silenced her scruples.
Her heart swelled higher with every phrase as she read ;

Eugenie Grandet 129

her quickened pulses seemed to send a sharp, tingling
glow through her veins, and to heighten the vivid
emotions of her first love.

*My dear Annette, — Nothing should have power
to separate us save this overwhelming calamity that has
befallen me, a calamity that no human foresight could
have predicted. My father has died by his own hand ;
his fortune and mine are both irretrievably lost. I am
left an orphan at an age when, with the kind of educa-
tion I have received, I am almost a child ; and, never-
theless, I must now endeavour to show myself a man, and
to rise from the dark depths into which I have been
hurled. I have been spending part of my time to-night
in revolving plans for my future. If I am to leave
France as an honest man, as of course I mean to do, I
have not a hundred francs that I can call my own with
which to tempt fate in the Indies or in America. Yes, my
poor Anna, I am going in quest of fortune to the most
deadly foreign climes. Beneath such skies, they say, fortunes
are rapidly and surely made. As for living on in Paris,
I could not bring myself to do it. I could not face the
coldness, the contempt, and the affronts that a ruined
man, the son of a bankrupt, is sure to receive. Great
heaven ! to owe two millions ! . . . I should fall in a
duel before a week had passed. So I shall not return to
Paris. Your love — the tenderest, the most devoted love
that ever ennobled the heart of man — would not seek to
draw me back. Alas ! my darling, I have not money
enough to take me to you, that I might give and receive
one last kiss, a kiss that should put strength into me for
the task that lies before me. . . .*

'Poor Charles, I did well to read this. I have money,
and he shall have it,' said Eugenie. She went on with
the letter when she could see for her tears.

* I have not even begun to think of the hardships of

I

130 Eugenie Grandet

poverty. Supposing that I find I have the hundred louis
to pay for my passage out, I have not a sou to lay
out on a trading venture. Yet, no ; I shall not have a
hundred louis, nor yet a hundred sous ; I have no idea
whether anything will be left when I have settled all my
debts in Paris. If there is nothing, I shall simply go to
Nantes and work my passage out. I will begin at the
bottom of the ladder, like many another man of energy
who has gone out to the Indies as a penniless youth, to
return thence a rich man. This morning I began to
look my future steadily in the face. It is far harder for
me than for others ; I have been the petted child of a
mother who idolised me, indulged by the best and kindest
of fathers ; and at my very entrance into the world I met
with the love of an Anna ! As yet I have only known
the primrose paths of life ; such happiness could not last.
Yet, dear Annette, I have more fortitude than could be
looked for from a thoughtless youth ; above all, from a
young man thus lapped round in happiness from the
cradle, spoiled and flattered by the most delightful
woman in Paris, the darling of Fortune, whose wishes
were as law to a father who ... Oh ! my father !
He is dead, Annette ! . . . Well, I have thought
seriously over my position, and I have likewise thought
over yours. I have grown much older in the last
twenty-four hours. Dear Anna, even if, to keep me
beside you, you were to give up all the luxuries that
you enjoy, your box at the opera, and your toilette,
we should not have nearly sufficient for the necessary
expenses of the extravagant life that I am accustomed
to; and besides, I could not think of allowing you to
make such sacrifices for me. To-day, therefore, we part
for ever.'

* Then this is to take leave of her ! Sainte V'terge I
what happiness ! '

Eugenie started and trembled for joy. Charles stirred

Eugenie Grandet 131

in his chair, and Eugenie felt a chill of dread. Luckily,
however, he did not wake. She went on reading.

' When shall I come back ? I cannot tell. Europeans
grow old before their time in those tropical countries,
especially Europeans who work hard. Let us look forward
and try to see ourselves in ten years time. In ten years
from now your little girl will be eighteen years old ; she
will be your constant companion ; that is, she will be a
spy upon you. If the world will judge you very harshly,
your daughter will probably judge more harshly still ;
such ingratitude on a young girl's part is common
enough, and we know how the world regards these
things. Let us take warning and be wise. Only, keep
the memory of those four years of happiness in the depths
of your soul, as I shall keep them buried in mine ; and be
faithful, if you can, to your poor friend. I shall not be
too exacting, dear Annette ; for, as you can see, I must
submit to my altered lot ; I am compelled to look at life
in a business-like way, and to base my calculations on
dull, prosaic fact. So I ought to think of marriage as a
necessary step in my new existence ; and I will confess
to you that here, in my uncle's house in Saumur, there is
a cousin whose manners, face, character, and heart you
would approve ; and who, moreover, has, it appears '

' How tired he must have been to break off like this
when he was writing to her ! * said Eugenie to herself, as
the letter ended abruptly in the middle of a sentence.
She was ready with excuses for him.

How was it possible that an inexperienced girl should
discover the coldness and selfishness of this letter ? For
young girls, religiously brought up as she had been, are
innocent and unsuspecting, and can see nothing but love
when they have set foot in love's enchanted kingdom.
It is as if a light from heaven shone in their own souls,
shedding its beams upon their path ; their lover shines

132 Eugenie Grandet

transfigured before them in reflected glory, radiant with
fair colours from love's magic fires, and endowed with

' noble thoughts which perhaps in truth are none of his.
\A Women's errors spring, for the most part, from a belief in

1 goodness, and a confidence in truth. In Eugenie's heart
the words, ' My dear Annette — my beloved,' echoed like
the fairest language of love ; they stirred her soul like
organ music — like the divine notes of the Venite adoremus
falling upon her ears in childhood.

Surely the tears, not dry even yet upon her cousin's
eyelids, betokened the innate nobility of nature that never
fails to attract a young girl. How could she know that
Charles's love and grief for his father, albeit genuine, was
due rather to the fact that his father had loved him than
to a deeply-rooted affection on his own part for his
father ? M. and Mme. Guillaume Grandet had indulged
their son's every whim ; every pleasure that wealth could
bestow had been his ; and thus it followed that he had
never been tempted to make the hideous calculations that
are only too common among the younger members of a
family in Paris, when they see around them all the de-
lights of Parisian life, and reflect with disgust that, so
long as their parents are alive, all these enjoyments are
not for them. The strange result of the father's lavish

\ kindness had been a strong affection on the part of his
son, an affection unalloyed by any after thought. But,
for all that, Charles was a thorough child of Paris, with
the Parisian's habit of mind ; Annette herself had impressed
upon him the importance of thinking out all the con-
sequences of every step ; he was not youthful, despite the
mask of youth.

He had received the detestable education of a world in
which more crimes (in thought and word at least) are
committed in one evening than come before a court of
justice in the course of a whole session ; a world in which
great ideas perish, done to death by a witticism, and
where it is reckoned a weakness not to see things as they

Eugenie Grandet 133

are. To see things as they are — that means, believe in
nothing, put faith in nothing and in no man, for there is
no such thing as sincerity in opinion or affection ; mis-
trust events, for even events at times have been known
to be manufactured. To see things as they are you must
weigh your friend's purse morning by morning; you must
know bv instinct the right moment to interfere for your
own profit in every matter that turns up ; you must keep
your judgment rigorously suspended, be in no hurry to
admire a work of art or a noble deed, and give every
one credit for interested motives on every possible
occasion.

After many follies, the great lady, the fair Annette,
compelled Charles to think seriously ; she talked to him
of his future, passing a fragrant hand through his hair,
and imparted counsel to him on the art of getting on in
the world, while she twisted a stray curl about her fingers.
She had made him effeminate, and now she set herself to
makeamateriahstof him, a twofold work of demoralisation,
a corruption none the less deadly because it never offended
against the canons of good society, good manners, and
good taste.

' You are a simpleton, Charles,' she would say ; 'I see
that it will be no easy task to teach you the ways of the
world. You were very naughty about M. des Lupeaulx.
Oh ! he is not over-fastidious, I grant you, but you
should wait until he falls from power, and then you may
despise him as much as you like. Do you know what
Mme. Campan used to say to us ? " %b/ children, so
long as a man is a Minister, adore him ; if he falls, help
to drag him to the shambles. He is a kind of deity so
long as he is in power, but after he is fallen and ruined
he is viler than Marat himself, for he is still alive, while
Marat is dead and out of sight. Life is nothing but a
series of combinations, which must be studied and
followed very carefully if a good position is to be success-
fully maintained."'

134 Eugenie Grandet

Charles had no very exalted aims ; he was too much
of a worldling ; he had been too much spoiled by his
father and mother, too much flattered by the society in
which he moved, to be stirred by any lofty enthusiasm.
In the clay of his nature there was a grain of gold, due to
his mother's teaching ; but it had been passed through the
Parisian draw-plate, and beaten out into a thin surface
gilding which must soon be worn away by contact with
the world.

At this time Charles, however, was only one-and-
twenty, and it is taken for granted that freshness of heart
accompanies the freshness of youth ; it seems so unlikely
that the mind within should be at variance with the
young face, and the young voice, and the candid glance.
Even the hardest judge, the most sceptical attorney, the
flintiest-hearted money-lender will hesitate to believe that
a wizened heart and a warped and corrupted nature can
dwell beneath a young exterior, when the forehead is
smooth and tears come so readily to the eyes. Hitherto
Charles had never had occasion to put his Parisian
maxims in practice ; his character had not been tried,
and consequently had not been found wanting ; but, all
unknown to him, egoism had taken deep root in his
nature. The seeds of this baneful political economy had
been sown in his heart ; it was only a question of time,
they would spring up and flower so soon as the soil was
stirred, as soon as he ceased to be an idle spectator and
became an actor in the drama of real Hfe.

A young girl is nearly always ready to believe un-
questioningly in the promise of a fair exterior ; but even
if Eugenie had been as keenly observant and as cautious
as girls in the provinces sometimes are, how could she
have brought herself to mistrust her cousin, when all he
did and said, and everything about him, seemed to be the
spontaneous outcome of a noble nature ? This was the
last outburst of real feeling, the last reproachful sigh of
conscience in Charles's life ; fate had thrown them

Eugenie Grandet 135

together at that moment, and, unfortunately for her, all
her sympathies had been aroused for him.

So she laid down the letter that seemed to her so full
of love, and gave herself up to the pleasure of watching
her sleeping cousin ; the dreams and hopes of youth
seemed to hover over his face, and then and there she
vowed to herself that she would love him always. She
glanced over the other letter j there could be no harm in
reading it, she thought ; she should only receive fresh
proofs of the noble qualities with which, womanlike, she
had invested the man whom she had idealised.

' My dear Alphonse,' so it began, ' by the time this
letter is in your hands I shall have no friends left ; but I
will confess that though I put no faith in the worldly-
minded people who use the word so freely, I have no
doubts of your friendship for me. So I am commission-
ing you to settle some matters of business. I look to
you to do the best you can for me in this, for all I have
in the world is involved in it. By this time you must
know how I am situated. I have nothing, and have
made up my mind to go out to the Indies. I have just
written to all the people to whom any money is owing,
and the enclosed Hst is as accurate as I can make it
from memory. I think the sale of my books, furniture,
carriages, horses, and so forth ought to bring in sufficient
to pay my debts. I only mean to keep back a few
trinkets of little value, which will go some way towards
a trading venture. I will send you a power of attorney
in due form for this sale, my dear Alphonse, in case
any difficulty should arise. You might send my guns
and everything of that sort to me here. And you must
take " Briton " ; no one would ever give me anything
like as much as the splendid animal is worth ; I would
rather give him to you, you must regard him as the
mourning ring which a dying man leaves in his will to
his executor. Farry, Breilman and Co. have been

136 "" ' Eugenie Grandet

building a very comfortable travelling carriage for me,
but they have not sent it home yet ; get them to keep it
if you can, and if they decline to have it left on their
hands, make the best arrangement you can for me, and
do all you can to save my honour in the position in which
I am placed. I lost six louis at play to that fellow from
the British Isles, mind that he is . . .*

* Dear cousin,' murmured Eugenie, letting the sheet
fall, and, seizing one of the lighted candles, she hastened
on tiptoe to her own room.

Once there, it was not without a keen feeling of
pleasure that she opened one of the drawers in an old oak
chest — a most beautiful specimen of the skill of the crafts-
men of the Renaissance, you could still make out the
half-effaced royal salamander upon it. From this drawer
she took a large red velvet money-bag, with gold tassels,
and the remains of a golden fringe about it, a bit of faded
splendour that had belonged to her grandmother. In the
pride of her heart she felt its weight, and joyously set to work
to reckon up the value of her little hoard, sorting out the
different coins. Imprimis^ twenty Portuguese moidores
as new and fresh as when they were struck in 1725, in
the reign of John v. ; each was nominally worth five
lisbonines, or a hundred and sixty-five francs, but actually
they were worth a hundred and eighty francs (so her
father used to tell her), a fancy value on account of the
rarity and beauty of the aforesaid coins, which shone like
the sun. Item^ five genovines, rare Genoese coins of a
hundred livres each, their current value was perhaps about
eighty francs, but collectors would give a hundred for
them. These had come to her from old M. de la
Bertelliere. Item^ three Spanish quadruples of the time
of Philip v., bearing the date 1729. Mme. Gentillet had
given them to her, one by one, always with the same
little speech : ' There 's a little yellow bird, there 's a
buttercup for you, worth ninety-eight livres ! Take

Eugenie Grandct 137

great care of it, darling ; it will be the flower of your
flock.' Item (and those were the coins that her father
thought most of, for the gold was a fraction over the
twenty-three carats), a hundred Dutch ducats, struck
at the Hague in 1756, and each worth about thirteen
francs. Item^ a great curiosity ! . . . a few coins dear
to a miser's heart, three rupees bearing the sign of the
Balance, and five with the sign of the Virgin stamped
upon them, all pure gold of twenty-four carats — the
magnificent coins of the Great Mogul. The weight oi
metal in them alone was worth thirty-seven francs forty
centimes, but amateurs who love to finger gold would
give fifty francs for such coins as those. Item^ the double
napoleon that had been given to her the day before, and
which she had carelessly slipped into the red velvet bag.

There were new gold pieces fresh from the mint among
her treasures, real works of art, which old Grandet liked
to look at from time to time, so that he might count them
over and tell his daughter of their intrinsic value,
expatiating also upon the beauty of the bordering, the
sparkling field, the ornate lettering with its sharp, clean,
flawless outlines. But now she gave not a thought to
their beauty and rarity ; her father's mania, and the risks
she ran by despoiling herself of a hoard so precious in his
eyes, were all forgotten. She thought of nothing but her
cousin, and managed at last to discover, after many
mistakes in calculation, that she was the owner of
eighteen hundred francs all told, or of nearly two
thousand francs if the coins were sold for their actual
value as curiosities.

She clapped her hands in exultation at the sight of her
riches, like a child who is compelled to find some outlet
for his overflowing glee and dances for joy. Father
and daughter had both counted their wealth that night ;
he in order to sell his gold, she that she might cast it
abroad on the waters of love. She put the money back into
the old purse, took it up, and went upstairs with it without

V

138 Eugenie Grandet

a moment's hesitation. Her cousin's distress was the one
thought in her mind ; she did not even remember that it
was night, conventionalities were utterly forgotten ; her
conscience did not reproach her, she was strong in her
happiness and her love.

As she stood upon the threshold with the candle in
one hand and the velvet bag in the other, Charles awoke,
saw his cousin, and was struck dumb with astonishment.
Eugenie came forward, set the light on the table, and
said with an unsteady voice —

' Cousin Charles, I have to ask your forgiveness for
something I have done ; it was very wrong, but if you
will overlook it, God will forgive me.'

' What can it be ? ' asked Charles, rubbing his eyes.

' I have been reading those two letters.'

Charles reddened.

' Do you ask how I came to do it ? ' she went on, ' and
why I came up here ? Indeed, I do not know now ; and
I am almost tempted to feel glad that I read the letters,
for through reading them 1 have come to know your
heart, your soul, and . . .'

' And what ? ' asked Charles.

' And your plans — the difficulty that you are in for
want of money-

' My dear cousin-

' Hush I hush ! do not speak so loud, do not let us
wake anybody. Here are the savings of a poor girl who
has no wants,' she went on, opening the purse. ' You
must take them, Charles. This morning I did not know
what money was; you have taught me that it is simply a
means to an end, that is all. A cousin is almost 3
brother ; surely you may borrow from your sister.'

Eugenie, almost as much a woman as a girl, had not
foreseen a refusal, but her cousin was silent.

' Why, are you going to refuse me ? ' asked Eugenie.
The silence was so deep that the beating of her heart
was audible. Her pride was wounded by her cousin's

Eugenie Grandet 139

hesitation, but the thought of his dire need came vividly
before her, and she fell on her knees.

' I will not rise,' she said, ' until you have taken that
money. Oh ! cousin, say something, for pity's sake ! . . .
so that I may knovi^ that you respect me, that you are
generous, that . . .'

This cry, wrung from her by a noble despair, brought
tears to Charles's eyes ; he would not let her kneel, she
felt his hot tears on her hands, and sprang to her purse,
which she emptied out upon the table.

' Well, then, it is " Yes," is it not ? ' she said, crying
for joy. ' Do not scruple to take it, cousin ; you will be
quite rich. That gold will bring you luck, you know.
Some day you shall pay it back to me, or, if you like, we
will be partners ; I will submit to any conditions that
you may impose. But you ought not to make so much
of this gift.'

Charles found words at last.

' Yes, Eugenie, I should have a little soul indeed if I
would not take it. But nothing for nothing, confidence
for confidence.'

' What do you mean ? ' she asked, startled.

' Listen, dear cousin, I have there '

He interrupted himself for a moment to show her a
square box in a leather case, which stood on the chest of
drawers.

' There is something there that is dearer to me than
life. That box was a present from my mother. Since
this morning I have thought that if she could rise from her
tomb she herself would sell the gold that in her tender-
ness she lavished on this dressing-case, but I cannot do
it — it would seem like sacrilege.'

Eugenie grasped her cousin's hand tightly in hers at
these last words.

' No,' he went on after a brief pause, during which
they looked each at each with tearful eyes, ' I do not
want to pull it to pieces, nor to risk taking it with me

I40 Eugenie Grandct

on my wanderings. I will leave it in your keeping, dear
Eugenie, Never did one friend confide a more sacred
trust to another ; but you shall judge for yourself.

He drew the box from its leather case, opened it, and
displayed before his cousin's astonished eyes a dressing-
case resplendent with gold — the curious skill of the
craftsman had only added to the value of the metal.

' All that you are admiring is nothing,' he said, press-
ing the spring of a secret drawer. ' There is something
which is worth more than all the world to me,' he added
sadly.

He took out two portraits, two of Mme. de Mirbel's
masterpieces, handsomely set in pearls.

' How lovely she is ! Is not this the lady to whom you
were writing ? '

* No,' he said, with a little smile ; ' that is my mother,
and this is my father — your aunt and uncle. Eugenie, I
could beg and pray of you on my knees to keep this
treasure safe for me. If I should die, and lose your little
fortune, the gold will make good your loss ; and to you
alone can I leave those two portraits, for you alone are
worthy to take charge of them, but do not let them pass
into any other hands, rather destroy them . . .*

Eugenie was silent.

* Well, " it is 3^<?j, is it not ? " ' he said, and there was
a winning charm in his manner.

As the last words were spoken, she gave him for the
first time such a glance as a loving woman can, a bright
glance that reveals a depth of feeling within her. He
took her hand and kissed it.

' Angel of purity ! what is money henceforward between
us two ? It is nothing, is it not ? but the feeling, which
alone gave it worth, will be everything.'

' You are like your mother. Was her voice as musical
as yours, I wonder ? *

' Oh ! far more sweet . . .*

' Yes, for you,' she said, lowering her eyelids. * Come,

Eugenie Grandet 141

Charles, you must go to bed ; I wish it. You are very
tired. Good-night.'

Her cousin had caught her hand in both of his ; she
drew it gently away, and went down to her room, her
cousin lighting the way. In the doorway of her room
they both paused.

* Oh ! why am I a ruined man ? ' he said.

* Pshaw ! my father is rich, I believe,' she returned.

' My poor child,' said Charles, as he set one foot in her
room, and propped himself against the wall by the door-
way, ' if your father had been rich, he would not have
let my father die, and you would not be lodged in such a
poor place as this ; he would live altogether in quite a
different style.'

' But he has Froidfond.'

' And what may Froidfond be worth ? '

* I do not know ; but there is Noyers too.'
' Some miserable farmhouse ! '

' He has vineyards and meadows '

' They are not worth talking about,' said Charles scorn-
fully. ' If your father had even twenty-four thousand
livres a year, do you suppose that you would sleep in a
bare, cold room like this ? ' he added, as he made a step
forward with his left foot. ' That is where my treasures
will be,' he went on, nodding towards the old chest, a
device by which he tried to conceal his thoughts from her.

' Go,' she said, ' and try to sleep,' and she barred his
entrance into an untidy room. Charles drew back ; and
the cousins bade each other a smiling good-night.

They fell asleep, to dream the same dream ; and from
that time forward Charles found that there were still
roses to be gathered in the world in spite of his mourn-
ing. The next morning Mme. Grandet saw her daughter
walking with Charles before breakfast. He was still sad
and subdued ; how, indeed, should he be otherwise than
sad ? He had been brought very low in his distress ; he
was gradually finding out how deep the abyss was into

142 Eugenie Grandet

which he had fallen, and the thought of the future
weighed heavily upon him.

' My father will not be back before dinner,' said
Eugenie, in reply to an anxious look in her mother's eyes.

The tones of Eugenie's voice had grown strangely
sweet y it was easy to see from her face and manner that
the cousins had some thought in common. Their souls
had rushed together, while perhaps as yet they scarcely
knew the power or the nature of this force which was
binding them each to each.

Charles sat in the dining-room ; no one intruded upon
his sorrow. Indeed, the three women had plenty to do.
Grandet had gone without any warning, and his work-
people were at a standstill. The slater came, the
plumber, the bricklayer, and the carpenter followed ; so
did labourers, tenants, and vinedressers, some came to
pay their dues, and others to receive them, and yet others
to make bargains for the repairs which were being done.
Mme. Grandet and Eugenie, therefore, were continually
coming and going ; they had to listen to interminable
histories from labourers and country people.

Everything that came into the house Nanon promptly
and securely stowed away in her kitchen. She always
waited for her master's instructions as to what should be
kept, and what should be sold in the market. The
worthy cooper, like many little country squires, was
wont to drink his worst wine, and to reserve his spoiled
or wind-fallen orchard fruit for home consumption.

Towards five o'clock that evening Grandet came
back from Angers. He had made fourteen thousand
francs on his gold, and carried a Government certificate
bearing interest until the day when it should be trans-
ferred into rentes. He had left Cornoiller also in
Angers to look after the horses, which had been nearly
foundered by the night journey, and had given instruc-
tions to bring them back leisurely after they had had a
thorough rest.

Eugenie Grandet 143

* I have been to Angers, wife,' he said j * and I am
hungry.'

' Have you had nothing to eat since yesterday ? ' called
Nanon from her kitchen.

' Nothing whatever,' said the worthy man.

Nanon brought in the soup. Des Grassins came to
take his client's instructions just as the family were
sitting down to dinner. Grandet had not so much as
seen his nephew all this time.

' Go on with your dinner, Grandet,' said the banker.
' We can have a little chat. Have you heard what gold
is fetching in Angers, and that people from Nantes are
buying it there ? I am going to send some over.'

' You need not trouble yourself,' answered his worthy
client ; ' they have quite enough there by this time. I
don't like you to lose your labour when I can prevent it ;
we are too good friends for that.'

'But gold is at thirteen francs fifty centimes premium *

' Say was at a premium.'

' How the deuce did you get to know that ? *

* I went over to Angers myself last night,' Grandet
told him in a low voice.

The banker started, and a whispered conversation
followed ; both des Grassins and Grandet looked at
Charles from time to time, and once more a gesture ot
surprise escaped the banker, doubtless at the point when
the old cooper commissioned him to purchase rentes to
bring in a hundred thousand livres.

' M. Grandet,' said des Grassins, addressing Charles,
* I am going to Paris, and if there is anything I can do
for you '

' Thank you, sir, there is nothing,' Charles replied.

' You must thank him more heartily than that,
nephew. This gentleman is going to wind up your
father's business and settle with his creditors.'

* Then is there any hope of coming to an arrangement V
asked Charles.

144 ^ '^ Eugenie Grandet

' Why, are you not my nephew ? ' cried the cooper,
with a fine assumption of pride. ' Our honour is involved ;
is not your name Grandet ? '

Charles rose from his chair, impulsively flung his arms
about his uncle, turned pale, and left the room. Eugenie
looked at her father with affection and pride in her
eyes.

' Well, let us say good-bye, my good friend,' said
Grandet. ' I am very much at your service. Try to
get round those fellows over yonder.*

The two diplomatists shook hands, and the cooper
went to the door with his neighbour ; he came back to
the room again when he had closed the door on des
Grassins, flung himself down in his easy-chair, and said
to Nanon : ' Bring me some cordial.'

But he was too much excited to keep still ; he rose and
looked at old M. de la Bertelliere's portrait, and began to
' dance a jig,' in Nanon's phrase, singing to himself —

' Once in the Gardes francaises
I had a grandpapa . . .'

Nanon, Mme. Grandet, and Eugenie all looked at each
other in silent dismay. The vinegrower's ecstasies never
boded any good.

The evening was soon over. Old Grandet went off^
early to bed, and no one was allowed to stay up after
that ; when he slept, every one else must likewise sleep,
much as in Poland, in the days of Augustus the Strong,
whenever the king drank all his subjects were loyally
tipsy. Wherefore, Nanon, Charles, and Eugenie were
no less tired than the master of the house ; and as for
Mme. Grandet, she slept or woke, ate or drank, as her
husband bade her. Yet during the two hours allotted to
the digestion of his dinner the cooper was more facetious
than he had ever been in his life before, and uttered not a
few of his favourite aphorisms ; one example will serve to
plumb the depths of the cooper's mind. When he had

Eugenic Grandet 145

finished his cordial, he looked pensively at the glass, and
thus delivered himself —

' You have no sooner set your lips to a glass than it is
empty ! Such is life. You cannot have your cake and
eat it too, and you can't turn over your money and keep
it in your purse j if you could only do that, life would be
too glorious.'

He w^as not only jocose, he was good-natured, so
that when Nanon came in with her spinning-wheel
— ' You must be tired,' he said j ' let the hemp
alone.'

' And if I did,' the servant answered, ' ^uien^ I should
have to sit with my hands before me.'

' Poor Nanon ! would you like some cordial ? '

' Cordial ? Oh ! I don't say no. Madame makes it
much better than the apothecaries do. The stuff they
sell is like physic'

' They spoil the flavour with putting too much sugar
in it,' said the goodman.

The next morning, at the eight o'clock breakfast, the
party seemed, for the first time, almost like one family.
Mme. Grandet, Eugenie, and Charles had been drawn
together by these troubles, and Nanon herself uncon-
sciously felt with them. As for the old vinegrower, he
scarcely noticed his nephew's presence in the house, his
greed of gold had been satisfied, and he was very shortly
to be quit of this young sprig by the cheap and easy
expedient of paying his nephew's travelling expenses as far
as Nantes.

Charles and Eugenie meanwhile were free to do what
seemed to them good. They were under Mme. Grandet's
eyes, and Grandet reposed complete faith in his wife in
all matters of conduct and religion. Moreover, he had
other things to think ofj his meadows were to be
drained, and a row of poplars was to be planted along the
Loire, and there was all the ordinary winter work at

K

146 Eugenie Grandet

Froidfond and elsewhere ; in fact, he was exceedingly
busy.

And now began the springtime of love for Eugenie.
Since that hour in the night when she had given her gold
to her cousin, her heart had follpwed the gift. They
shared a secret between them ; they were conscious of
this understanding whenever they looked at each other ;
and this knowledge, that brought them more and more
closely together, drew them in a manner out of the
current of everyday Hfe. And did not relationship justify
a certain tenderness in the voice and kindness in the eyes ?
Eugenie therefore set herself to make her cousin forget
his grief in the childish joys of growing love.

For the beginnings of love and the beginnings of Hfe
are not unlike. Is not the child soothed by smiles and
cradle-songs, and fairy tales of a golden future that lies
before him ? Above him, too, the bright wings of hope
are always spread, and does he not shed tears of joy or of
sorrow, wax petulant over trifles and quarrelsome over
the pebbles with which he builds a tottering palace, or
the flowers that are no sooner gathered than forgotten ?
Is he not also eager to outstrip Time, and to live in the
future ? Love is the soul's second transformation.

Love and childhood were almost the same thing for
Charles and Eugenie ; the dawn of love and its childish
beginnings were all the sweeter because their hearts were
full of gloom ; and this love, that from its birth had been
enveloped in crape, was in keeping with their homely
surroundings in the melancholy old house. As the
cousins interchanged a few words by the well in the
silent courtyard, or sat out in the little garden towards
sunset time, wholly absorbed by the momentous nothings
that each said to each, or wrapped in the stillness that
always brooded over the space between the ramparts and
the house, Charles learned to think of love as something
sacred. Hitherto, with his great lady, his *dear Annette,*
he had experienced little but its perils and storms ; but

Eugenie Grandet 147

that episode in Paris was over, with its coquetry and
passion, its vanity and emptiness, and he turned to this
love in its purity and truth.

He came to feel a certain fondness for the old house,
and their way of life no longer seemed absurd to him.
He would come downstairs early in the morning so as to
snatch a few words with Eugenie before her father gave
out the stores ; and when the sound of Grandet's heavy
footstep echoed on the staircase, he fled into the garden.
Even Eugenie's mother did not know of this morning
tryst of theirs, and Nanon made as though she did not
see it ; it was a small piece of audacity that gave the
keen relish of a stolen pleasure to their innocent love.
Then when breakfast was over, and Goodman Grandet
had gone to see after his business and his improvements,
Charles sat in the grey parlour between the mother and
daughter, finding a pleasure unknown before in holding
skeins of thread for them to wind, in listening to their
talk, and watching them sew. There was something that
appealed to him strongly in the almost monastic simplicity
of the life, which had led him to discover the nobleness of
the natures of these two unworldly women. He had not
believed that such lives as these were possible in France ;
in Germany he admitted that old-world manners lingered
still, but in France they were only to be found in fiction
and in Auguste Lafontaine's novels. It was not long
before Eugenie became an embodiment of his ideal,
Goethe's Marguerite without her error.

Day after day, in short, the poor girl hung on his
words and looks, and drifted further along the stream of
love. She snatched at every happiness as some swimmer
might catch at an overhanging willow branch, that so
he might reach the bank and rest there for a little
while.

Was not the time of parting very near now ? The
shadow of that parting seemed to fall across the brightest
hours of those days that fled so fast ; and not one of them

148 Eugenie Grandet

went by but something happened to remind her how
sOon it would be upon them.

For instance, three days after des Grassins had started
for Paris, Grandet had taken Charles before a magistrate ]
with the funereal solemnity with which such acts arc
performed by provincials, and in the presence of that
functionary the young man had had to sign a declaration
that he renounced all claim to his father's property.
Dreadful repudiation ! An impiety amounting to
apostasy ! He went to M. Cruchot to procure two
powers of attorney, one for des Grassins, the other for
the friend who was commissioned to sell his own per-
sonal effects. There were also some necessary formali-
ties in connection with his passport ; and finally, on the
arrival of the plain suit of mourning which Charles had
ordered from Paris, he sent for a clothier in Saumur,
and disposed of his now useless wardrobe. This transac-
tion was peculiarly pleasing to old Grandet.

' Ah ! Now you look like a man who is ready to set
out, and means to make his way in the world,' he said,
as he saw his nephew in a plain, black overcoat of rough
cloth. ' Good, very good ! '

'I beg you to believe, sir,' Charles replied, 'that I
shall face my position with proper spirit.'

' What does this mean ? ' asked his worthy relative ;
there was an eager look in the goodman's eyes at the
sight of a handful of gold which Charles held out to
him.

'I have gathered together my studs and rings and
everything of any value that I have ; I am not likely to
want them now ; but I know of nobody in Saumur, and
this morning I thought I would ask you '

' To buy it ? ' Grandet broke in upon him.

' No, uncle, to give me the name of some honest man
who *

* Give it to mc, nephew ; I will take it upstairs and
find out what it is worth, and let you know the value to

Eugenie Grandet 149

a centime. Jeweller's gold,' he commented, after an
examination of a long chain, 'jeweller's gold, eighteen
to nineteen carats, I should say.'

The worthy soul held out his huge hand for it, and
carried ofF the whole collection.

' Cousin Eugenie,' said Charles, ' permit me to offer
you these two clasps ; you might use them to fasten
ribbons round your wrists, that sort of bracelet is all the
rage just now.'

' I do not hesitate to take it, cousin,' she said, with a
look of intelligence.

' And, aunt, this is my mother's thimble ; I have
treasured it up till now in my dressing-case,' and he gave
a pretty gold thimble to Mme. Grandet, who for the past
ten years had longed for one.

' It is impossible to thank you in words, dear nephew,'
said the old mother, as her eyes filled with tears. 'But
morning and evening I shall repeat the prayer for
travellers, and pray most fervently for you. If anything
should happen to me, Eugenie shall take care of it for
you.'

' It is worth nine hundred and eighty-nine francs
seventy-five centimes, nephew,' said Grandet, as he came
in at the door. 'But to save you the trouble of selling
it, I will let you have the money in Hvres.'

This expression ' in livres ' means, in the districts along
the Loire, that a crown of six livres is to be considered
worth six francs, without deduction.

' I did not venture to suggest such a thing,' Charles
answered, ' but I shrank from hawking my trinkets
about in the town where you are living. Dirty linen
ought not to be washed in public, as Napoleon used to
say. Thank you for obliging me.'

Grandet scratched his ear, and there was a moment's
silence in the room.

' And, dear uncle,' Charles went on, somewhat
nervously, and as though he feared to wound his uncle's

150 Eugenie Grandet

susceptibilities, 'my cousin and aunt have consented to
receive trifling mementoes from me ; w^ill you not in
your turn accept these sleeve-links, v^^hich are useless to
me now ; they may perhaps recall to your memory a
poor boy, in a far-off country, whose thought will
certainly often turn to those who are all that remain to
him now of his family.'

'Oh ! my boy, my boy, you must not strip yourself
like that for us — — '

' What have you there, wife ? ' said the cooper, turning
eagerly towards her. ' Ah ! a gold thimble ? And you,
little girl ? Diamond clasps ; what next ! Come, I will
accept your studs, my boy,' he continued, squeezing
Charles's hand. * But . . . you must let me pay . . .
your . . . yes, your passage out to the Indies. Yes, I
mean to pay your passage. Besides, my boy, when I
estimated your jewellery I only took it at its value as
metal, you see, without reckoning the workmanship, and
it may be worth a trifle more on that account. So that
is settled. 1 will pay you fifteen hundred francs ... in
livres ; Cruchot will lend it me, for I have not a brass
farthing in the house ; unless Perrotet, who is getting
behindhand with his dues, will pay me in coin. There !
there ! I will go and see about it,' and he took up his hat,
put on his gloves, and went forthwith.

'Then you are going ? ' said Eugenie, with sad, admir-
ing eyes.

* I cannot help myself,' he answered, with his head
bent down.

For several days Charles looked, spoke, and behaved
like a man who is in deep trouble, but who feels the
weight of such heavy obligations, that his misfortunes
only brace him for greater effort. He had ceased to pity
himself; he had become a man. Never had Eugenie
augured better of her cousin's character than she did on
the day when she watched him come downstairs in his
plain, black mourning suit, which set off his pale^ sad face

Eugenie Grandet 151

to such advantage. The two women had also gone into
mourning, and went with Charles to the Reqnie?n mass
celebrated in the parish church for the soul of the late
Guillaume Grandet.

Charles received letters from Paris as they took the
mid-day meal ; he opened and read them.

'Well, cousin,' said Eugenie, in a low voice, 'are
your affairs going on satisfactorily ? '

' Never put questions of that sort, my girl,' remarked
Grandet. ' I never talk to you about my affairs, and
why the devil should you meddle in your cousin's ?
Just let the boy alone.'

' Oh ! I have no secrets of any sort,' said Charles.

'Tut, tut, tut. You will find out that you must
bridle your tongue in business, nephew.'

When the two lovers were alone in the garden, Charles
drew Eugenie to the old bench under the walnut tree
where they so often sat of late.

'I felt sure of Alphonse, and I was right,' he said ; 'he
has done wonders, and has settled my affairs prudently
and loyally. All my debts in Paris are paid, my furni-
ture sold well, and he tells me that he has acted on the
advice of an old sea captain who had made the voyage
to the Indies, and has invested the surplus money in
ornaments and odds and ends for which there is a great
demand out there. He has sent my packages to Nantes,
where an East Indiaman is taking freight for Java, and
so, Eugenie, in five days we must bid each other fare-
well, for a long while at any rate, and perhaps for ever.
My trading venture and the ten thousand francs which
two of my friends have sent me, are a very poor start ; I
cannot expect to return for many years. Dear cousin,
let us not consider ourselves bound in any way ; I may
die, and very likely some good opportunity for settling
yourself '

* You love me ? , . . ' she asked.

' Oh ! yes, indeed,' he repHed, with an earnestness of

152 Eugenie Grandet

manner that betokened a like earnestness in his feel
ings. *

' Then I will wait for you, Charles. T)ieu ! my
father is looking out of his window,' she exclaimed,
evading her cousin, who had drawn closer to embrace
her.

She fled to the archway ; and seeing that Charles
followed her thither, she retreated further, flung back the
folding door at the foot of the staircase, and with no very
clear idea, save that of flight, she rushed towards the
darkest corner of the passage, outside Nanon's sleeping
hole ; and there Charles, who was close beside her,
grasped both hands in his and pressed her to his heart;
his arms went round her waist, Eugenie resisted no
longer, and leaning against her lover she received and
gave the purest, sweetest, and most perfect of all
kisses.

' Dear Eugenie, a cousin is better than a brother ; he
can marry you,' said Charles.

' Amen, so be it ! ' cried Nanon, opening the door
behind them, and emerging from her den. Her voice
startled the two lovers, who fled into the dining-room,
where Eugenie took up her sewing, and Charles seized on
Mme. Grandet's prayer book, opened it at the litanies of
the Virgin, and began to read industriously.

'.^«/V«/' said Nanon, 'so we are all saying our
prayers ! '

As soon as Charles fixed the day for his departure,
Grandet bustled about and affected to take the greatest
interest in the whole matter. He was liberal with advice,
and with anything else that cost him nothing, first
seeking out a packer for Charles, and then, saying that
the man wanted too much for his cases, setting to work
with all his might to make them himself, using odd
planks for the purpose. He was up betimes every
morning planing, fitting, nailing deal boards together,

Eugenie Grandet 153

squaring and shaping ; and, in fact, he made some strong
cases, packed all Charles's property in them, and undertook
to send them by steamer down the Loire to Nantes in
time to go by the merchant ship, and to insure them
during the voyage.

Since that kiss given and taken in the passage, the
hours sped with terrible rapidity for Eugenie. At times
she thought of following her cousin ; for of all ties that
bind one human being to another, this passion of love is
the closest and strongest, and those who know this, and
know how every day shortens love's allotted span, and
how not time alone but age and mortal sickness and all
the untoward accidents of life combine to menace it, —
these will know the agony that Eugenie suffered. She
shed many tears as she walked up and down the little
garden ; it had grown so narrow for her now ; the court-
yard, the old house, and the town had all grown narrow,
and her thoughts fared forth already across vast spaces
of sea.

It was the day before the day of departure. That
morning, while Grandet and Nanon were out of the
house, the precious casket that held the two portraits
was solemnly deposited in Eugenie's chest, beside the
now empty velvet bag in the only drawer that could be
locked, an installation which was not effected without
many tears and kisses. When Eugenie locked the drawer
and hid the key in her bosom, she had not the courage
to forbid the kiss by which Charles sealed the act.

' The key shall always stay there, dear.'

' Ah ! well, my heart will always be there with it
too.'

' Oh ! Charles, you should not say that,' she said a
little reproachfully.

*Are we not married?' he replied. 'I have your
word ; take mine.'

' Thine for ever ! ' they said together, and repeated it a
second time. No holier vow was ever made on earth ;

154 Eugenie Grandet

for Charles's love had received a moment's consecration
in the presence of Eugenie's simple sincerity.

It w^as a melancholy group round the breakfast-table
next morning. Even Nanon herself, in spite of Charles's
gift of a new^ gown and a gilt cross, had a tear in her
eye ; but she was free to express her feelings, and did so.

* Oh ! that poor, delicate young gentleman who is
going to sea,' was the burden of her discourse.

At half-past ten the whole family left the house to see
Charles start for Nantes in the diligence. Nanon had
let the dog loose, and locked the door, and meant to
carry Charles's handbag. Every shopkeeper in the ancient
street was in the doorway to watch the little procession
pass. M. Cruchot joined them in the market-place.

' Eugenie,' whispered her mother, * mind you do not
cry ! '

They reached the gateway of the inn, and there
Grandet kissed Charles on both cheeks. ' Well !
nephew,' he said, ' set out poor and come back rich ; you
leave your father's honour in safe keeping. I — Grandet —
will answer to you for that ; you will only have to do
your part '

' Oh ! uncle, this sweetens the bitterness of parting.
Is not this the greatest gift you could possibly give me ? '

Charles had broken in upon the old cooper's remarks
before he quite understood their drift ; he put his arms
round his uncle's neck, and let fall tears of gratitude on
the vinegrower's sunburned cheeks j Eugenie clasped her
cousin's hand in one of hers, and her father's in the other,
and held them tightly. Only the notaiy smiled to
himself; he alone understood the worthy man, and he
could not help admiring his astute cunning. The four
Saumurois and a little group of onlookers hung about the
diligence till the last moment ; and looked after it until
it disappeared across the bridge, and the sound of the
wheels grew faint and distant.

* A good riddance ! ' said the cooper.

Eugenie Grandct 155

Luckily, no one but M. Cruchot heard this ejaculation;
Eugenie and her mother had walked along the quay to a
point of view whence they could still see the diligence,
and stood there waving their handkerchiefs and watching
Charles's answering signal till he was out of sight ; then
Eugenie turned.

' Oh ! mother, mother, if I had God's power for one
moment,' she said.

To save further interruption to the course of the story,
it is necessary to glance a little ahead, and give a brief
account of the course of events in Paris, of Grandet's
calculations, and the action taken by his worthy lieutenant
the banker in the matter of Guillaume Grandet's affairs.
A month after des Grassins had gone, Grandet received a
certificate for a hundred thousand livres per annum of
rentes J purchased at eighty francs. No information was ever
forthcoming as to how and when the actual coin had been
paid, or the receipt taken, which in due course had been
exchanged for the certificate. The inventory and state-
ment of his affairs which the miser left at his death threw
no light upon the mystery, and Cruchot fancied that in some
way or other Nanon must have been the unconscious
instrument employed ; for about that time the faithful
serving-maid was away from home for four or five days,
ostensibly to see after matters at Froidfond, as if its
worthy owner were likely to forget anything there that
required looking after ! As for Guillaume Grandet's
creditors, everything had happened as the cooper had
intended and foreseen.

At the Bank of France (as everybody knows) they
keep accurate lists of all the great fortunes in Paris or
in the departments. The names of des Grassins and of
Felix Grandet of Saumur were duly to be found inscribed
therein ; indeed, they shone conspicuous there as well-
known names in the business world, as men who were
not only financially sound, but owners of broad acres
unencumbered by mortgages. And now it was said that

1^6 Eugenie Grandet

des Grassins of Saumur had come to Paris with intent tc
call a meeting of the creditors of the firm of Guillaume
Grandet ; the shade of the wine merchant was to be
spared the disgrace of protested bills. The seals were
broken in the presence of the creditors, and the family
notary proceeded to make out an inventory in due
form.

Before very long, in fact, des Grassins called a meeting
of the creditors, who with one voice appointed the banker
of Saumur as trustee conjointly with Francois Keller, the
head of a large business house, and one of the principal
creditors, empowering them to take such measures as they
thought fit, in order to save the family name (and the
bills) from being dishonoured. The fact that des Grassins
was acting as his agent produced a hopeful tone in the
meeting, and things went smoothly from the first ; the
banker did not find a single dissentient voice. No one
thought of passing his bill to his profit and loss account,
and each one said to himself —

' Grandet of Saumur is going to pay ! '

Six months went by. The Parisian merchants had
withdrawn the bills from circulation, and had consigned
them to the depths of their portfolios. The cooper had
gained his first point. Nine months after the first
meeting the two trustees paid the creditors a dividend of
forty-seven per cent. This sum had been raised by the
sale of the late Guillaume Grandet's property, goods,
chattels and general effects ; the most scrupulous in-
tegrity characterised these proceedings ; indeed, the whole
affair was conducted with the most conscientious honesty,
and the delighted creditors fell to admiring Grandet's
wonderful, indubitable and high-minded probity. When
these praises had duly circulated for a sufficient length of
time, the creditors began to ask themselves when the
remainder of their money would be forthcoming, and be-
thought them of collectively writing a letter to Grandet.

' Here we are ! ' was the old cooper's comment, as he

Eugenie Grandet 157

flung the letter in the fire. ' Patience, patience, my
dear friends.'

By way of a reply to the propositions contained in the
letter, Grandet of Saumur required them to deposit with
a notary all the bills and claims against the estate of his
deceased brother, accompanying each with receipts for
the payments already made. The accounts were to be
audited, and the exact condition of affairs was to be
ascertained. Innumerable difficulties were cleared away
by this notion of the deposit.

A creditor, generally speaking, is a sort of maniac ;
there is no saying what a creditor will do. One day he
is in a hurry to bring the thing to an end, the next he is
all for fire and sword, a little later and he is sweetness
and benignity itself. To-day, very probably, his wife
is in a good humour, his youngest hope has just cut a
tooth, everything is going on comfortably at home, he
has no mind to abate his claims one jot 3 but to-morrow
comes, and it rains, and he cannot go out ; he feels low
in his mind, and agrees hastily to anything and every-
thing that is likely to settle the affair ; the next morning
brings counsel ; he requires a guarantee, and by the end of
the month he talks about an execution, the inhuman,
bloodthirsty wretch ! The creditor is not unlike that
common or house sparrow on whose tail small children are
encouraged to try to put a grain of salt — a pleasing simile
which the creditor may twist to his own uses, and apply
to his bills, from which he fondly hopes to derive some
benefit at last. Grandet had observed these atmospheric
variations among creditors ; and his forecasts in the
present case were correct, his brother's creditors were
behaving in every respect exactly as he wished. Some
waxed wroth, and flatly declined to have anything to do
with the deposit, or to give up the vouchers.

' Good ! ' said Grandet ; ' that is all right ! ' He
rubbed his hands as he read the letters which des Grassins
wrote to him on the subject.

158 Eugenie Grandet

Yet others refused to consent to the aforesaid deposit
unless their position was clearly defined in the first place ;i
it was to be made without prejudice, and they reserved
the right to declare the estate bankrupt should they
deem it advisable. This opened a fresh correspondence,
and occasioned a further delay, after which Grandet
finally agreed to all the conditions, and as a consequence
the more tractable creditors brought the recalcitrant to
hear reason, and the deposit was made, not, however,
without some grumbling.

' That old fellow is laughing in his sleeve at you and at
us too,* said they to des Grassins.

Twenty-three months after Guillaume Grandet's
death, many of the merchants had forgotten all about
their claims in the course of events in a business life in
Paris, or they only thought of them to say to themselves—

* It begins to look as though the forty-seven per cent,
is about all I shall get out of that business.*

The cooper had reckoned on the aid of Time, who, so
he was wont to say, is a good fellow. By the end of
the third year, des Grassins wrote to Grandet saying
that he had induced most of the creditors to give up
their bills, and that the amount now owing was only
about ten per cent, of the outstanding two million four
hundred thousand francs. Grandet rephed that there yet
remained the notary and the stockbroker, whose failures
had been the death of his brother ; they were still alive.
They might be solvent again by this time, and proceed-
ings ought to be taken against them ; something m.ight
be recovered in this way which would still further reduce
the sum-total of the deficit.

When the fourth year drew to a close the deficit had
been duly brought down to the sum of twelve hundred
thousand francs ; the limit appeared to have been reached.
Six months were further spent in parleyings between the
trustees and the creditors, and between Grandet and the
trustees. In short, strong pressure being brought to

Eugenie Grandet 159

bear upon Grandet of Saumur, he announced, somewhere
about the ninth month of the same year, that his nephew,
who had made a fortune in the East Indies, had signified
his intention of settling in full all claims on his father's
estate ; and that meantime he could not take it upon
himself to act, nor to defraud the creditors by winding
up the affair before he had consulted his nephew ; he
added that he had written to him, and was now awaiting
an answer.

The middle of the fifth year had been reached, and
still the creditors were held in check by the magic words
in full ^ let fall judiciously from time to time by the sub-
lime cooper, who was laughing at them in his sleeve ;
'those Parisians,' he would sav to himself, with a mild
oath, and a cunning smile would steal across his features.

In fact, a martyrdom unknown to the calendars of
commerce was in store for the creditors. When next
they appear in the course of this story, they will be
found in exactly the same position that they were in
now when Grandet had done with them. Consols
went up to a hundred and fifteen, old Grandet sold out,
and received from Paris about two million four hundred
thousand francs in gold, which went into his wooden
kegs to keep company with the six hundred thousand
francs of interest which his investment had brought in.

Des Grassins stayed on in Paris, and for the following
reasons. In the first place, he had been appointed a
deputy ; and in the second, he, the father of a family,
bored by the exceeding dulness of existence in Saumur,
was smitten with the charms of Mile. Florine, one of the
prettiest actresses of the Theatre de Madame, and there
was a recrudescence of the quarter-master in the banker.
It is useless to discuss his conduct ; at Saumur it was
pronounced to be profoundly immoral. It was very
lucky for his wife that she had brains enough to
carry on the concern at Saumur in her own name,
and could extricate the remains of her fortune, which had

i6o Eugenie Grandet

suffered not a little from M. des Grassins' extravagance
and folly. But the quasi-widow was in a false position,
and the Cruchotins did all that in them lay to make
matters worse ; she had to give up all hope of a match
between her son and Eugenie Grandet, and married her
daughter very badly. Adolphe des Grassins went to join
his father in Paris, and there acquired, so it was said, an
unenviable reputation. The triumph of the Cruchotins
was complete.

' Your husband has taken leave of his senses,' Grandet
took occasion to remark as he accommodated Mme. des
Grassins with a loan (on good security). ' I am very
sorry for you ; you are a nice little woman.*

' Ah ! ' sighed the poor lady, ' who could have believed
that day when he set out for Paris to see after that
business of yours that he was hurrying to his own ruin ? '

'Heaven is my witness, madame, that to the very last
I did all I could to prevent him, and M. le President was
dying to go ; but we know now why your husband was
so set upon it.'

Clearly, therefore, Grandet lay under no obligation to
des Grassins.

In every situation a woman is bound to suffer in many
ways that a man does not, and to feel her troubles more
acutely than he can ; for a man's vigour and energy is
constantly brought into play ; he acts and thinks, comes
and goes, busies himself in the present, and looks to the
future for consolation. This was what Charles was
doing. But a woman cannot help herself — hers is a
passive part ; she is left face to face with her trouble,
and has nothing to divert her mind from it ; she sounds
the depths of the abyss of sorrow, and its dark places
are filled with her prayers and tears. So it was with

y,_ Eugenie. She was beginning to understand that the
I web of a woman's Hfe will always be woven of love and

'm^ sorrow and hope and fear and self-sacrifice j hers was to be

Eugenic Grandet i6i r \^^\

a woman's lot in all things without a woman's consola-
tions and her moments of happiness (to make use of
Bossuet's wonderful illustration) were to be like the
scattered nails driven into the wall, when all collected
together they scarcely filled the hollow of the hand.
Troubles seldom keep us waiting for them, and for
Eugenie they were gathering thick and fast.

The day after Charles had gone, the Grandet house-
hold fell back into the old ways of life ; there was no
difference for any one but Eugenie — for her the house
had grown very empty all on a sudden. Charles's room
should remain just as he had left it j Mme. Grandet and
Nanon lent themselves to this whim of hers, willingly
maintained the statu quo, and said nothing to her father.

* Who knows ? ' Eugenie said. ' He may come back
to us sooner than we think.'

' Ah ! I wish I could see him here again,' replied
Nanon. ' I could get on with him well enough ! He
was very nice, and an excellent gentleman ; and he was
pretty-like, his hair curled over his head just like a
girl's.'

Eugenie gazed at Nanon.

' Holy Virgin ! mademoiselle, with such eyes, you are
like to lose your soul. You shouldn't look at people in
that way.'

From that day Mile. Grandet's beauty took a new
character. The grave thoughts of love that slowly
enveloped her soul, the dignity of a woman who is
beloved, gave to her face the sort of radiance that early
painters expressed by the aureole. Before her cousin
came into her life, Eugenie might have been compared
to the Virgin as yet unconscious of her destiny ; and
now that he had passed out of it, she seemed like the
Virgin Mother ; she, too, bore love in her heart. Spanish
art has depicted these two Marys, so different each from
each — Christianity, with its many symbols, knows no
more glorious types than these.

L

1 62 Eugenic Grandet

The day after Charles had left them, Eugenie went to
mass (as she had resolved to do daily), and on her way
back bought a map of the world from the only bookseller
in the town. This she pinned to the wall beside her glass,
so that she might follow the course of her cousin's
voyage to the Indies ; and night and morning might be
beside him for a little while on that far-off vessel, and see
him and ask all the endless questions she longed to ask.

*Are you well ? Are you not sad? Am I in your
thoughts when you see the star that you told me about ?
You made me see how beautiful it was.*

In the morning she used to sit like one in a dream
under the great walnut tree, on the old grey, lichen-
covered, worm-eaten bench where they had talked so
kindly and so foolishly, where they had built such fair
castles in the air in which to live. She thought of the
future as she watched the little strip of sky shut in by
the high walls on every side, then her eyes wandered
over the old buttressed wall and the roof — Charles's room
lay beneath it. In short, this solitary persistent love
mingling with all her thoughts became the substance,
or, as our forefathers would have said, the 'stuff' of her life.

If Grandet's self-styled friends came in of an evening,
she would seem to be in high spirits, but the liveliness
was only assumed ; she used to talk about Charles with
her mother and Nanon the whole morning through, and
Nanon — who was of the opinion that without faltering
in her duty to her master she might yet feel for her
young mistress's troubles — Nanon spoke on this wise —

' If I had had a sweetheart, I would have . • . I would
have gone with him to hell. I would have . . . well, then,
I would just have laid down my life for him, but . . .
no such chance ! I shall die without knowing what it
is to hve. Would you believe it, mam'selle, there is that
old Cornoiller, who is a good man all the same, dangling
about after my savings, just like the others who come
here paying court to you and sniffing after the master's

Eugenic Grandet 163

money. I see through it ; I may be as big as a hay stack,
but 1 am as sharp as a needle yet. Well ! and yet do
you know, mam'selle, it may not be love, but I rather
like it.'

In this way two months went by. The secret that
Dound the three women so closely together had brought
a new interest into the household life hitherto so
monotonous. For them Charles still dwelt in the house,
and came and went beneath the old grey rafters of the
parlour. Every morning and evening Eugenie opened
the dressing-case and looked at her aunt's portrait. Her
mother, suddenly coming into her room one Sunday
morning, found her absorbed in tracing out a likeness to
Charles in the lady of the miniature, and Mme. Grandet
learned for the first time a terrible secret, how that
Eugenie had parted with her treasures and had taken the
case in exchange.

'You have let him have it all!' cried the terrified
mother. ' What will you say to your father on New
Year's Day when he asks to see your gold ? '

Eugenie's eyes were set in a fixed stare ; the horror of
this thought so filled the women that half the morning
went by, and they were distressed to find themselves
too late for high mass, and were only in time for the
military mass. The year 18 19 was almost overj there
were only three more days left. In three days a terrible
drama would begin, a drama undignified by poison,
dagger, or bloodshed, but fate dealt scarcely more cruelly
with the princely house of Atreus than with the actors
in this bourgeois tragedy.

*■ What is to become of us ? ' said Mme. Grandet,
laying down her knitting on her knee.

Poor mother ! all the events of the past two months
had sadly hindered the knitting, the woollen cufFs for
winter wear were not finished yet, a homely and
apparently insignificant feet which was to work trouble
enough for her. For want of the warm cuiFs she caught

164 Eugenie Grandet

a chill after a violent perspiration brought on by one of
her husband's fearful outbursts of rage.

' My poor child, I have been thinking that if you had
only told me about this, w^e should have had time to
write to M. des Grassins in Paris. He might have
managed to send us some gold pieces like those of yours ;
and although Grandet knows the look of them so well,
still perhaps . . .'

* But where could we have found so much money ? '

'I would have raised it on my property. Besides,
M. des Grassins would have befriended us . . .'

' There is not time enough now,' faltered Eugenie in
a smothered voice. ' To-morrow morning we shall have
to go to his room to wish him a happy New Year, shall
we not ? *

' Oh ! Eugenie, why not go and see the Cruchots
about it ? '

' No, no, that would be putting ourselves in their
power J I should be entirely in their hands then. Besides,
I have made up my mind. I have acted quite rightly, and
I repent of nothing ; God will protect me. May His holy
will be done ! Ah ! if you had read that letter, mother,
you would have thought of nothing but him.'

The next morning, January i, 1820, the mother and
daughter were in an agony of distress that they could not
hide ; sheer terror suggested the simple expedient of
omitting the solemn visit to Grandet's room. The
bitter weather served as an excuse ; the winter of
1819-20 was the coldest that had been known for years,
and snow lay deep on the roofs.

Mme. Grandet called to her husband as soon as she
heard him stirring, ' Grandet, just let Nanon light a bit
of fire in here for me, the air is so sharp that I am shiver-
ing under the bedclothes, and at my time of life I must
take care of myself. And then,' she went on after a
little pause, ' Eugenie shall come in here to dress. The

Eugenie Grandet 165

poor girl may do herself a mischief if she dresses in her own
room in such cold. We will come downstairs into the sitting-
room and wish you a happy New Year there by the fire.'

' Tut, tut, tut, what a tongue ! What a way to
begin the year, Mme. Grandet ! You have never said
so much in your life before. You have not had a sop of
bread in wine, I suppose ? '

There was a moment's pause. Doubtless his wife's
proposal suited his notions, for he said, ' Very well, I
will do as you wish, Mme. Grandet. You really are a
good sort of woman, it would be a pity for you to expire
before you are due, though, as a rule, the La Bertellieres
make old bones, don't they, hey ? ' he cried, after a
pause. ' Well, their money has fallen in at last ; I forgive
them,' and he coughed.

* You are in spirits this morning,' said the poor wife.

* I always am in spirits.'

Hey ! hey ! cooper gay,

Mend your tub and take your pay.

He had quite finished dressing, and came into his wife's
room. ' Yes, nom (Tun petit bonhomme ! it is a mighty
hard frost, all the same. We shall have a good breakfast
to-day, wife. Des Grassins has sent me a pate de foies
gras, truffled ! I am going round to the coach office to
see after it. He should have sent a double napoleon for
Eugenie along with it,' said the cooper, coming closer,
and lowering his voice. 'I have no gold, I certainly
had a few old coins still left, I may tell you that in
confidence, but I had to let them go in the course of
business,' and by way of celebrating the first day of the
year he kissed his wife on the forehead.

' Eugenie,' cried the kind mother, as soon as Grandet
had gone, 'I don't know which side of the bed your
father got out on, but he is in a good humour this
morning. Pshaw ! we shall pull through.'

' What can have come over the master ? ' cried Nanon
as she came into the room to light the fire. ' First of

1 66 Eugenie Grandet

all, he says, ** Good morning, great stupid, a happy New
Year ! Go upstairs and light a fire in my wife's room ;
she is feeling cold." I thought I must be ofF my head
when I saw him holding out his hand with a six-franc
piece in it that hadn't been clipped a bit ! There !
madame, only look at it ! Oh ! he is a worthy man,
all the same — he is a good man, he is. There are some
as get harder-hearted the older they grow ; but he turns
sweeter, like your cordial that improves with keeping.
He is a very good and a very excellent man . . . '

Grandet's speculation had been completely successful ;
this was the cause of his high spirits. M. des Grassins —
after deducting various amounts which the cooper owed
him, partly for discounting Dutch bills to the amount of
a hundred and fifty thousand francs, and partly for
advances of money for the purchase of a hundred
thousand livres worth of consols — M. des Grassins was
sending him, by diligence, thirty thousand francs in
crowns, the remainder (after the aforesaid deductions
had been made) of the cooper's half-yearly dividends,
and informed Grandet that consols were steadily rising.
They stood at eighty-nine at the present moment, and
well-known capitalists were buying for the next account
at the end of January at ninety-two. In two months
Grandet had made twelve per cent, on his capital ; he had
straightened his accounts ; and henceforward he would
receive fifty thousand francs every half year, clear of
taxes or any outgoing expenses. In short, he had
grasped the theory of consols (a class of investment of
which the provincial mind is exceedingly shy), and
looking ahead, he beheld himself the master of six
millions of francs in five years time — six miUions, which
would go on accumulating with scarcely any trouble
on his part — six millions of francs ! And there was the
value of his landed property to add to this ; he saw him-
self in a fair way to build up a colossal fortune. The
six francs given to Nanon were perhaps in reality the

Eugenie Grandet 167

payment for an immense service which the girl had
unwittingly done her master.

* Oho ! what can Goodman Grandet be after ? He
is running as if there were a fire somewhere,' the shop-
keepers said to each other as they took down their
shutters that New Year's morning.

A httle later when they saw him coming back from
the quay followed by a porter from the coach office, who
was wheeling a barrow piled up with little bags full of
something

' Ah ! * said they, ' water always makes for the river,
the old boy was hurrying after his crowns.'

' They flow in on him from Paris, and Froidfond, and
Holland,' said one.

' He will buy Saumur before he has done,' cried
another.

' He does not care a rap for the cold ; he is always
looking after his business,' said a woman to her husband.

' Hi ! M. Grandet ! if you have more of that than
you know what to do with, I can help you to get rid of
some of it.'

' Eh ! they are only coppers,* said the vinegrower.

'Silver, he means,"* said the porter in a low voice.

' Keep a still tongue in your head, if you want me to
bear you in mind,' said the goodman as he opened the
door.

' Oh ! the old fox, I thought he was deaf,' said the
porter to himself, ' but it looks as though he could hear
well enough in cold weather.'

' Here is a franc for a New Year's gift, and keep quiet
about this. Off with you ! Nanon will bring back the
barrow. Nanon ! ' cried Grandet, ' are the women-folk
gone to mass ? *

« Yes, sir.'

' Come, look sharp and lend a hand here, then,' he
cried, and loaded her with the bags. In another minute

1 68 Eugenie Grandet

the crowns were safely transferred to his room, where he
locked himself in.

' Thump on the wall when breakfast is ready,* he called
through the door, ' and take the wheelbarrow back to the
coach office.'

It was ten o'clock before the family breakfasted.

' Your father will not ask to see your gold now,' said
Mmc. Grandet as they came back from mass ; ' and if he
does, you can shiver and say it is too cold to go upstairs for
it. We shall have time to make up the money again
before your birthday . . . '

Grandet came down the stairs with his head full of
schemes for transforming the five-franc pieces just re-
ceived from Paris into gold coin, which should be neither
clipped nor light weight. He thought of his admirably
timed investment in Government stock, and made up
his mind that he would continue to put his money into
consols until they rose to a hundred francs. Such medita-
tions as these boded ill for Eugenie. As soon as he
came in the two women wished him a prosperous New
Year, each in her own way ; Mme. Grandet was grave
and ceremonious, but his daughter put her arms round
his neck and kissed him. ' Aha ! child,' he said, kissing
heron both cheeks, ' I am thinking and working for you,
you see ! . . . I want you to be happy and if you are
to be happy, you must have money ; for you won't get
anything without it. Look ! here is a brand new
napoleon, I sent to Paris on purpose for it. ISlom d'un
petit honhomme ! there is not a speck of gold in the house,
except yours, you are the one who has the gold. Let
me see your gold, little girl.'

'Bah ! it is too cold, let us have breakfast,' Eugenie
answered.

'Well, then, after breakfast we will have a look at it,
eh ? It will be good for our digestions. That great des
Grassins sent us this, all the same,' he went on, ' so get
your breakfasts, children, for it costs us nothing. Des

Eugenie Grandet i6q

Grassins is going on nicely ; I am pleased with him ; the
old fish is doing Charles a service, and all free gratis.
Really, he is managing poor dear Grandct's affairs very
cleverly. Ououh ! ououh ! ' he cried, with his mouth
full, ' this is good ! Eat away, wife } there is enough
here to last us for two days at least.*

' I am not hungry. I am very poorly, you know that
very well.'

' Oh ! Ah ! but you have a sound constitution ; you
are a La Bertelliere, and you can put away a great deal
without any fear of damaging yourself. You may be a
trifle sallow, but I have a liking for yellow myself,'

The prisoner shrinking from a public and ignominious
death could not well await his doom with a more sicken-
ing dread than Mme. Grandet and Eugenie felt as they
foresaw the end of breakfast and the inevitable sequel.
The more boisterously the cooper talked and ate, the
lower sank their spirits ; but to the girl, in this crisis,
a certain support was not lacking, love was strong within
her. 'I would die a thousand deaths,' she thought, ' for
him, for him ! '

She looked at her mother, and courage and defiance
shone in her eyes.

By eleven o'clock they had finished breakfast. ' Clear
everything away,' Grandet told Nanon, 'but leave us the
table. We can look over your little treasure more com-
fortably so,' he said with his eyes on Eugenie. ' Little^
said I ? 'Tis not so small, though, upon my word.
Your coins altogether are actually worth five thousand
nine hundred and fifty-nine francs, then with forty more
this morning, that makes six thousand francs all but one.
Well, I will give you another franc to make up the sum,
because, you see, little girL . . . Well ! now, why are
you listening to us ? Just take yourself off, Nanon, and
set about your work ! '

Nanon vanished.

' Listen, Eugenie, you must let me have your gold.

H

\

170 Eugenie Grandet

You will not refuse to let your papa have it ? Eh, little
daughter ? '

Neither of the women spoke.

* 1 myself have no gold left. I had some once, but I
have none now. I will give you six thousand francs
in silver for it, and you shall invest it ; I will show you
how. There is really no need to think of a dozen.
When you are married (which will be before very long)
I will find a husband for you who will give you the
handsomest dozen that has ever been heard of hereabouts.
There is a splendid opportunity just now; you can invest
your six thousand francs in Government stock, and every
six months, when dividends are due, you will have about
two hundred francs coming in, all clear of taxes, and no
repairs to pay for, and no frosts nor hail nor bad seasons,
none of all the tiresome drawbacks you have to lay your
account with if you put your money into land. You
don't like to part with your gold, eh ? Is that it, little
girl ? Never mind, let me have it all the same. I will
look out for gold coins for you, ducats from Holland,
and genovines and Portuguese moidores and rupees,
the Mogul's rupees ; and what with the coins I shall
give you on your birthday and so forth, you will have
half your little hoard again in three years time,
beside the six thousand francs in the funds. What do
you say, little girl ? Look up, child ! There ! there !
bring it here, my pet. You owe me a good kiss
for telling you business secrets and mysteries of
the life and death of five-franc pieces. Five-franc
pieces ! Yes, indeed, the coins live and gad about
just like men do ; they go and come and sweat and
multiply.'

Eugenie rose and made a few steps towards the door ;
then she turned abruptly, looked her father full in the
face, and said —

' All my gold is gone ; I have none left.*

* All your gold is gone ! ' echoed Grandet, starting

Eugenie Grandet 171

up, as a horse might rear when the cannon thunders not
ten paces from him.

' Yes, it is all gone.'

* Eugenie ! you are dreaming ! '

*No.'

' By my father's pruning-hook ! ' Whenever the
cooper swore in this fashion, the floors and ceilings
trembled.

' Lord have mercy ! ' cried Nanon ; ' how white the
mistress is ! '

' Grandet ! you will kill me with your angry fits,' said
the poor wife.

' Tut, tut, tut ; none of your family ever die. Now,
Eugenie ! what have you done with your money ? ' he
burst out as he turned upon her.

The girl was on her knees beside Mme. Grandet.

*Look! sir,' she said, 'my mother is very ill . . . do not
kill her.'

Grandet was alarmed ; his wife's dark, sallow com-
plexion had grown so white.

' Nanon, come and help me up to bed,* she said in a
feeble voice. 'This is killing me . . .'

Nanon gave an arm to her mistress, and Eugenie sup-
ported her on the other side ; but it was only with the
greatest difficulty that they reached her room, for the
poor mother's strength completely failed her, and she
stumbled at every step. Grandet was left alone in the
parlour. After a while, however, he came part of the
way upstairs, and called out —

' Eugenie ! Come down again as soon as your mother
is in bed.'

'Yes, father.'

In no long time she returned to him, after comforting
her mother as best she could.

' Now, my daughter,' Grandet addressed her, ' you will
tell me where your money is.'

' If I am not perfectly free to do as I like with your

172 Eugenie Grandet

presents, father, please take them back again,' said Eugenie
coldly. She went to the chimney-piece for the napoleon,
and gave it to her father.

Grandet pounced upon it, and slipped it into his waist-
coat pocket.

'I will never give you anything again, I know,' he
said, biting his thumb at her. ' You look down on your
father, do you ? You have no confidence in him ? Do
you know what a father is ? If he is not everything to
you, he is nothing. Now ; where is your gold ? *

' I do respect you and love you, father, in spite of your
anger 5 but I would very humbly point out to you that
I am twenty-two years old. You have told me that I
am of age often enough for me to know it. I have done
as I liked with my money, and rest assured that it is in
good hands '

'Whose?*

' That is an inviolable secret,* she said. ' Have you
not your secrets ? '

' Am I not the head of my family ? May I not be
allowed to have my own business affairs ? '

' This is my own affair.'

' It must be something very unsatisfactory. Mile.
Grandet, if you cannot tell your own father about it.'

' It is perfectly satisfactory, and I cannot tell my father
about it.'

'Tell me, at any rate, when you parted with your
gold.'

Eugenie shook her head.

'You still had it on your birthday, hadn't you ? Eh ?'

But if greed had made her father crafty, love had
taught Eugenie to be wary ; she shook her head again.

' Did any one ever hear of such obstinacy, or of such a
robbery ? ' cried Grandet, in a voice which gradually rose
till it rang through the house. ' What ! here^ in my
house, in my own house, some one has taken your gold !
Taken all the gold that there was in the place ! And

Eugenie Grandet 173

I am not to know who it was ? Gold is a precious thing.
The best of girls go wrong and throw themselves away
one way or another ; that happens among great folk, and
even among decent citizens ; but think of throwing gold
away ! For you gave it to somebody, I suppose, eh ? *

Eugenie gave no sign.

' Did any one ever see such a daughter ! Can you be
a child of mine ? If you have parted with your money,
you must have a receipt for it '

' Was I free to do as I wished with it — Yes or No ?
Was it mine ? '

* Why, you are a child.'

* I am of age.'

At first Grandet was struck dumb by his daughter
daring to argue with him, and in this way ! He turned
pale, stamped, swore, and finding words at last, he
shouted —

' Accursed serpent ! Miserable girl ! Oh ! you know
well that I love you, and you take advantage of it ! You
ungrateful child ! She would rob and murder her own
father ! Pard'teu ! you would have thrown all we have
at the feet of that vagabond with the morocco boots.
By my father's pruning-hook, I cannot disinherit you,
but nom d'un tonneau^ I can curse you ; you and your
cousin and your children. Nothing good can come out
of this ; do you hear ? If it was to Charles that . . .
But, no, that is impossible. What if that miserable
puppy should have robbed me ? '

He glared at his daughter, who was still silent and
unmoved.

' She does not stir ! She does not flinch ! She is
more of a Grandet than I am. You did not give your
gold away for nothing, anyhow. Come, now j tell me
about it ? '

Eugenie looked up at her father ; her satirical glance
exasperated him.

' Eugenie, this is my house j so long as you are under

174 Eugenie Grandet

your father's roof you must do as your father bids you.
The priests command you to obey me,'

Eugenie bent ler head again.

'You are wounding all my tenderest feelings,' he
went on. ' Get out of my sight until you are ready to
obey me. Go to your room and stay there until I give
you leave to come out of it. Nanon will bring you
bread and water. Do you hear what I say ? Go ! '

Eugenie burst into tears, and fled away to her mother.
Grandet took several turns in his garden without heeding
the snow or the cold ; then, suspecting that his
daughter would be in his wife's room, and delighted with
the idea of catching them in flagrant disobedience to
orders, he climbed the stairs as stealthily as a cat, and
suddenly appeared in Mme. Grandet's room. He was
right ; she was stroking Eugenie's hair, and the girl lay
with her face hidden in her mother's breast.

' Poor child ! Never mind, your father will relent.'

' She has no longer a father ! ' said the cooper. ' Is it
really possible, Mme. Grandet, that we have brought such
a disobedient daughter into the world ? A pretty
bringing up ; and pious, too, above all things ! Well !
how is it you are not in your room ? Come, off to prison
with you; to prison, miss.'

' Do you mean to take my daughter away from me,
sir ? * said Mme. Grandet, as she raised a flushed face
and bright, feverish eyes.

'If you want to keep her, take her along with you,
and the house will be rid of you both at once. . . .
Tonnerre ! Where is the gold ? What has become of
the gold ? '

Eugenie rose to her feet, looked proudly at her father,
and went into her room j the good man turned the key
in the door.

' Nanon ! ' he shouted, ' you can rake out the fire in
the parlour ^ then he came back and sat down in an

Eugenic Grandet 175

easy-chair that stood between the fire and his wife's bed-
side, saying as he did so, ' Of course she gave her gold to
that miserable seducer Charles, who only cared for our
money.'

Mme. Grandet's love for her daughter gave her
courage in the face of this danger ; to all appearance she
was deaf, dumb, and blind to all that was implied by this
speech. She turned on her bed so as to avoid the angry
glitter of her husband's eyes.

' I knew nothing about all this,' she said. * Your
anger makes me so ill, that if my forebodings come
true I shall only leave this room when they carry me
out feet foremost. I think you might have spared me
this scene, sir. I, at all events, have never caused you
any vexation. Your daughter loves you, and I am sure
she is as innocent as a new-born babe ; so do not make
her miserable, and take back your word. This cold is
terribly sharp ; it might make her seriously ill.*

' I shall neither see her nor speak to her. She shall
stop in her room on bread and water until she has done
as her father bids her. What the devil ! the head of a
family ought to know when gold goes out of his house,
and where it goes. She had the only rupees that there are
in France, for aught I know ; then there were genovines
besides, and Dutch ducats-" '

' Eugenie is our only child, and even if she had flung
them into the water '

' Into the water ! ' shouted the worthy cooper. * Into the
water ! Mme. Grandet, you are raving ! When I say
a thing I mean it, as you know. If you want to have
peace in the house, get her to confess to you, and worm
this secret out of her. Women understand each other,
and are cleverer at this sort of thing than we are.
Whatever she may have done, I certainly shall not eat
her. Is she afraid of me ? If she had covered her cousin
with gold from head to foot, he is safe on the high seas
by this time, hein ? We cannot run after him '

176 Eugenie Grandet

'Really, sir . . .' his wife began.

But Mme. Grandet's nature had developed during hei
daughter's trouble ; she felt more keenly, and perhaps
her thoughts moved more quickly, or it may be that
excitement and the strain upon her over-wrought nerves
had sharpened her mental faculties. She saw the wen on
her husband's face twitch ominously even as she began
to speak, and changed her purpose without changing her
voice.

* Really, sir, have I any more authority over her than
you have ? She has never said a word about it to me.
She takes after you.'

' Goodness ! your tongue is hung in the middle this
morning ! Tut, tut, tut ; you are going to fly in my
face, I suppose ? Perhaps you and she are both in it.'

He glared at his wife.

' Really, M. Grandet, if you want to kill me, you have
only to keep on as you are doing. I tell you, sir, and ii
it were to cost me my life, I would say it again — you are
too hard on your daughter ; she is a great deal more
sensible than you are. The money belonged to her ; she
could only have made a good use of it, and our good
works ought to be known to God alone. Sir, I implore
you, take Eugenie back into favour. It will lessen the
effect of the shock your anger gave me, and perhaps will
save my life. My daughter, sir ; give me back my
daughter ! '

* I am off,' he said. ' It is unbearable here in my
house, when a mother and daughter talk and argue as
if . . , Brooouh ! Pouah ! You have given me bitter |
New Year's gifts, Eugenie!' he called. 'Yes, yes, cry ^
away ! You shall repent it, do you hear ? What is the
good of taking the sacrament six times a quarter if you
give your father's gold away on the sly to an idle rascal
who will break your heart when you have nothing else
left to give him ? You will find out what he is, that
Charles of yours, with his morocco boots and his stand-off

Eugenie Grandct 177

airs. He can have no heart and no conscience either,
when he dares to carry ofF a poor girl's money without
the consent of her parents.'

As soon as the street-door was shut, Eugenie stole out
of her room and came to her mother's bedside.

' You were very brave for your daughter's sake,' she said.

* You see where crooked ways lead us, child ! . . ,
You have made me tell a lie.'

' Oh ! mother, 1 will pray to God to let all the punish-
ment fall on me.'

' Is it true ? ' asked Nanon, coming upstairs in dismay,
' that mademoiselle here is to be put on bread and water
for the rest of her life ? '

' What does it matter, Nanon ?' asked Eugenie calmly.

* Why, before I would eat " kitchen " while the
daughter of the house is eating dry bread, I would . , .
no, no, it won't do.'

' Don't say a word about it, Nanon,' Eugenie warned
her.

' It would stick in my throat ; but you shall see.'

Grandet dined alone, for the first time in twenty-four
years.

' So you are a widower, sir,' said Nanon. ' It is a very
dismal thing to be a widower when you have a wife and
daughter in the house.'

' I did not speak to you, did I ? Keep a still tongue
in your head, or you will have to go. What have you in
that saucepan that I can hear boiling away on the stove ? '

' Some dripping that I am melting down '

* There will be some people here this evening j light
the fire.'

The Cruchots and their friends, Mme. des Grassins
and her son, all came in about eight o'clock, and to their
amazement saw neither Mme. Grandet nor her daughter.

' My wife is not very well to-day, and Eugenie is up-
stairs with her,' replied the old cooper, without a trace of
perturbation on his face.

M

178 Eugenie Grande t

After an hour spent, in more or less trivial talk, Mme
des Grassins, who had gone upstairs to see Mme. Grandet,
came down again to the dining-room, and was met with
a general inquiry of ' How is Mme. Grandet ? *

' She is very far from well,* the lady said gravely.
' Her health seems to me to be in a very precarious state.
At her time of life you ought to take great care of her,
papa Grandet.'

' We shall see,* said the vinegrower abstractedly, and
the whole party took leave of him. As soon as the
Cruchots were out in the street and the door was shut
behind them, Mme. des Grassins turned to them and
said, ' Something has happened among the Grandets.
The mother is very ill ; she herself has no idea how ill
she is, and the girl's eyes are red, as if she had been crying
for a long while. Are they wanting to marry her against
her will?'

That night, when the cooper had gone to bed, Nanon,
in list slippers, stole up to Eugenie's room, and displayed
a raised pie, which she had managed to bake in a saucepan.

* Here, mademoiselle,' said the kind soul, ' Cornoiller
brought a hare for me. You eat so little that the pie
will last you for quite a week, and there is no fear of
its spoiling in this frost. You shall not live on dry bread,
at any rate j it is not at all good for you.'

' Poor Nanon ! ' said Eugenie, as she pressed the girl's
hand.

' I have made it very dainty and nice, and he never
found out about it. I paid for the lard and the bay-leaves
out of my six francs ; I can surely do as I like with my
own money,' and the old servant fled, thinking that she
heard Grandet stirring.

Several months went by. The cooper went to see his
wife at various times in the day, and never mentioned his
daughter's name — never saw her, nor made the slightest
allusion to her. Mme. Grandet's health srew worse and

Eugenie Grandet 179

worse; she had not once left her room since that terrible
January morning. But nothing shook the old cooper's
determination ; he was hard, cold, and unyielding as a
block of granite. He came and went, his manner of life
was in nowise altered ; but he did not stammer now, and
he talked less ; perhaps, too, in matters of business, people
found him harder than before, but errors crept into his
book-keeping.

Something had certainly happened in the Grandet
family, both Cruchotins and Grassinistes were agreed on
that head ; and ' What can be the matter with the
Grandets ? * became a stock question which people asked
each other at every social gathering in Saumur.

Eugenie went regularly to church, escorted by Nanon.
If Mme. des Grassins spoke to her in the porch as she
came out, the girl would answer evasively, and the lady''s
curiosity remained ungratified. But after two months
spent in this fashion it was almost impossible to hide
the real state of affairs from Mme. des Grassins or from
the Cruchots ; a time came when all pretexts were
exhausted, and Eugenie's constant absence still demanded
an explanation. A little later, though no one could say
how or when the secret leaked out, it became common
property, and the whole town knew that ever since New
Year's Day Mile. Grandet had been locked up in her
room by her father's orders, and that there she lived on
bread and water in solitary confinement, and without a
fire. Nanon, it was reported, cooked dainties for her, and
brought food secretly to her room at night. Further
particulars were known. It was even said that only
w!ien Grandet was out of the house could the young
girl nurse her mother, or indeed see her at all.

People blamed Grandet severely. He was regarded as
an outlaw, as it were, by the whole town ; all his hard-
ness, his bad faith was remembered against him, and
every one shunned him. They whispered and pointed
at him as he went by ; and as his daughter passed along

i8o Eugenie Grandet

the crooked street on her way to mass or to vespers, with
Nanon at her side, people would hurry to their windows
and look curiously at the wealthy heiress's face — a face so
sad and so divinely sweet.

The town gossip reached her ears as slowly as it
reached her father's. Her imprisonment and her father's
displeasure was as nothing to her ; had she not her map
of the world ? And from her window could she not see
the little bench, the old wall, and the garden walks ?
Was not the sweetness of those past kisses still upon her
lips ? So, sustained by love and by the consciousness of
her innocence in the sight of God, she could patiently
endure her solitary life and her father's anger ; but there
was another sorrow, so deep and so overwhelming that
Eugenie could not find a refuge from it. The gentle,
patient mother was gradually passing away ; it seemed as
if the beauty of her soul shone out more and more
brightly in those dark days as she drew nearer to the
tomb. Eugenie often bitterly blamed herself for this
illness, telling herself that she had been the innocent
cause of the painful malady that was slowly consuming
her mother's life ; and, in spite of all her mother said to
comfort her, this remorseful feeling made her cHng more
closely to the love she was to lose so soon. Every
morning, as soon as her father had left the house, she
went to sit at her mother's bedside. Nanon used to
bring her breakfast to her there. But for poor Eugenie
in her sadness, this suff^ering was almost more than she
could bear j she looked at her mother's face, and then at
Nanon, with tears in her eyes, and was dumb ^ she
did not dare to speak of her cousin now. It was always
Mme. Grandet who began to talk of him ; it was she
who was forced to say, ' Where is he ? Why does he
not write ? '

Neither mother nor daughter had any idea of the
distance,

* Let us think of him without talking about him,

Eugenie Grandet i8i

mother,' Eugenie would answer. ' You are suffering ;
you come before every one ; ' and when she said, ' every
one,' Eugenie meant ' him.''

' I have no wish to live any longer, children,* Mme.
Grandet used to say. ' God in His protecting care has
led me to look forward joyfully to death as the end of
my sorrows.'

Everything that she said was full of Christian piety.
For the first few months of the year her husband break-
fasted in her room, and always, as he walked restlessly
about, he heard the same words from her, uttered with
angelic gentleness, but with firmness ; the near approach
of death had given her the courage which she had lacked
all her life.

' Thank you, sir, for the interest which you take
in my health,' she said in response to the merest formality
of an inquiry j ' but if you really wish to sweeten the
bitterness of my last moments, and to alleviate my
sufferings, forgive our daughter, and act like a Christian,
a husband, and father.'

At these words Grandet would come and sit down by
the bed, much as a man who is threatened by a shower
betakes himself resignedly to the nearest sheltering arch-
way. He would say nothing, and his wife might say
what she liked. To the most pathetic, loving, and
fervent prayers, he would reply, ' My poor wife, you are
looking a bit pale to-day.'

His daughter seemed to have passed entirely out of his
mind ; the mention of her name brought no change over
his stony face and hard-set mouth. He always gave the
same vague answers to her pleadings, couched in almost
the same words, and did not heed his wife's white face,
nor the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

' May God forgive you, as I do, sir,' she said. ' You
will have need of mercy some day.'

Since his wife's illness had began he had not ventured
to make use of his formidable ' Tut, tut, tut,' but his

%

1 82 Eugenie Grandct

tyranny was not relaxed one whit by his wife's angelic
gentleness.

Her plain face was growing almost beautiful now as a
beautiful nature showed itself more and more, and her
soul grew absolute. It seemed as if the spirit of prayer
had purified and refined the homely features — as if they
were lit up by some inner light. Which of us has not
known such faces as this, and seen their final trans-
figuration—the triumph of a soul that has dwelt for so
long among pure and lofty thoughts that they set their
seal unmistakably upon the roughest lineaments at last ?
The sight of this transformation wrought by the physical
suffering which stripped the soul of the rags of humanity
that hid it, had a certain eff*ect, however feeble, upon that
man of bronze — the old cooper. A stubborn habit of
silence had succeeded to his old contemptuous ways, a
wish to keep up his dignity as a father of a family was
apparently the motive for this course.

The faithful Nanon no sooner showed herself in the
market place than people began to rail at her master and
to make jokes at his expense ; but however loudly public
opinion condemned old Grandet, the maid-servant,
jealous for the honour of the family, stoutly defended
him.

' Well, now,' she would say to those who spoke ill of
her master, ' don't we all grow harder as we grow older ?
And would you have him different from other people ?
Just hold your lying tongues. Mademoiselle lives like a
queen. She is all by herself no doubt, but she likes it ;
and my master and mistress have their very good reasons
for what they do.'

At last, one evening towards the end of spring, Mme.
Grandet, feeling that this trouble, even more than her
illness, was shortening her days, and that any further
attempt on her part to obtain forgiveness for Eugenie
was hopeless, confided her troubles to the Cruchots.

' To put a girl of twenty-three on a diet of bread and

Eugenie Grandet 183

water ! . . , * cried the President de Bonfons, * and
without just and sufficient cause ! Why, that con-
stitutes legal cruelty ; she might lodge a complaint ; in
as much as '

' Come, nephew,' said the notary, ' that is enough of
your law court jargon. Be easy, madame ; I will bring
this imprisonment to an end to-morrow.'

Eugenie heard, and came out of her room.

' Gentlemen,' she said, impelled by a certain pride,
* do nothing in this matter, I beg of you. My father is
master in his own house, and so long as I live under his
roof I ought to obey him. No one has any right to
criticise his conduct ; he is answerable to God, and to
God alone. If you have any friendly feeling for me, I
entreat you to say nothing whatever about this. If you
expose my father to censure, you would lower us all in
the eyes o( the world. I am very thankful to you,
gentlemen, for the interest you have taken in me, and
you will oblige me still further if you will put a stop to
the gossip that is going on in the town. 1 only heard
of it by accident.'

' She is right,' said Mme. Grandet.

' Mademoiselle, the best possible way to stop people's
talk would be to set you at liberty,' said the old notary
respectfully ; he was struck with the beauty which
solitude and love and sadness had brought into Eugenie's
face.

'Well, Eugenie, leave it in M. Cruchot's hands, as
he seems to think success is certain. He knows
your father, and he knows, too, how to put the matter
before him. You and your father must be reconciled at
all costs, if you want me to be happy during the little
time I have yet to live.'

The next morning Grandet went out to take a certain
number of turns round the little garden, a habit that he
had fallen into during Eugenie's incarceration. He chose
to take the air while Eugenie was dressing ; and when he

184 Eugenie Grandct

had reached the great walnut tree, he stood behind it
for a few moments and looked at her window. He
watched her as she brushed her long hair, and there was
a sharp struggle doubtless, between his natural stubborn
will and a longing to take his daughter in his arms and
kiss her.

He would often go to sit on the little worm-eaten bench
where Charles and Eugenie had vowed to love each
other for ever ; and she, his daughter, also watched her
father furtively, or looked into her glass and saw him
reflected there, and the garden and the bench. If he
rose and began to walk again, she went to sit in the
window. It was pleasant to her to be there. She
studied the bit of old wall, the delicate sprays of wild
flowers that grew in its crevices, the maidenhair fern,
the morning glories, and a little plant with thick leaves
and white or yellow flowers, a sort of stone-crop that
grows everywhere among the vines at Saumur and
Tours.

Old M. Cruchot came early on a bright June morning
and found the vinegrower sitting on the little bench
with his back against the wall, absorbed in watching his
daughter.

' What can I do for you, M. Cruchot ? ' he asked, as
he became aware of the notary's presence.

' I have come about a matter of business.*

' Aha ! Have you some gold to exchange for .crowns ? '

' No, no. It is not a question of money this time,
but of your daughter Eugenie. Everybody is talking
about you and her.'

' What business is it of theirs ? A man's house is his
castle.'

' Just so ; and a man can kill himself if he has a mind,
or he can do worse, he can throw his money out of the
windows.'

'What?'

* Eh ! but your wife is very ill, my friend. You

Eugenie Grandet 185

ought even to call in M. Bergerin, her life is in danger.
If she were to die for want of proper care, you would
hear of it, I am sure.'

'Tut, tut, tut ! you know what is the matter with
her, and when once one of these doctors sets foot in
your house, they will come five or six times a day.*

'After all, Grandet, you will do as you think best.
We are old friends ; there is no one in all Saumur who
has your interests more at heart than I, so it was only my
duty to let you know this. Whatever happens, you are
responsible, and you understand your own business, so
there it is. Besides, that was not what I came to speak
about. There is something else more serious for you,
perhaps ; for, after all, you do not wish to kill your wife,
she is too useful to you. Just think what your position
would be if anything happened to Mme. Grandet ; you
would have your daughter to face. You would have to
give an account to Eugenie of her mother's share of your
joint estate ; and if she chose, your daughter might demand
her mother's fortune, for she, and not you, will succeed
to it ; and in that case, you might have to sell Froid-
fond.'

Cruchot's words were like a bolt from the blue ; for
much as the worthy cooper knew about business, he
knew very little law. The idea of a forced sale had
never occurred to him.

' So I should strongly recommend you to treat her
kindly,' the notary concluded.

' But do you know what she has done, Cruchot ? '

' No. What was it ? ' asked the notary j he felt curious
to know the reason of the quarrel, and a confidence from
old Grandet was an interesting novelty.

' She has given away her gold.'

' Oh ! well, it belonged to her, didn't it ? '

' That is what they all say ! ' said the goodman, letting
his arms fall with a tragic gesture.

* And for a trifle like that you would shut yourself out

1 86 Eugenie Grandet

from all hope of any concessions which you will want her
to make if her mother dies ? '

' Ah ! do you call six thousand francs in gold a
trifle ? '

' Eh ! my old friend, have you any idea what it will
cost you to have your property valued and divided if
Eugenie should compel you to do so ? '

*■ What would it cost ? '

*Two, three, or even four thousand francs. How
could you know what it is worth unless you put it up to
public auction ? While if you come to an under-
standing '

* By my father's pruning hook ! * cried the vinegrower,
sinking back, and turning quite pale. ' We will see
about this, Cruchot.'

After a moment of agony or of dumb bewilderment,
the worthy man spoke, with his eyes fixed on his neigh-
bour's face. ' Life is very hard ! ' he said. * It is full of
troubles. Cruchot,' he went on, earnestly, 'you are
incapable of deceiving me ; give me your word of
honour that this ditty of yours has a solid foundation.
Let me look at the Code j I want to see the Code ! '

' My poor friend,' said the notary, ' I ought to under-
stand my own profession.'

' Then it is really true ? I shall be plundered, cheated,
robbed, and murdered by my own daughter I '

' She is her mother's heiress.'

' Then what is the good of having children ? Oh !
my wife, I love my wife ; luckily she has a sound con-
stitution ; she is a La Bertelliere.'

' She has not a month to live.*

The cooper struck his forehead, took a few paces, and
then came back again.

' What is to be done ? ' he demanded of Cruchot, with
a tragic expression on his face.

'Well, perhaps Eugenie might simply give up her
claims to her mother's property. You do not mean to

Eugenic Grandet 187

disinherit her, do you ? But do not treat her harshly if
you want her to make a concession of that kind. I am
speaking against my own interests, my friend. How do
I make a living but by drawing up inventories and convey-
ances and deeds of arrangement and by winding up
estates ? '

' We shall see, we shall see. Let us say no more
about this now, Cruchot. You have wrung my very
soul. Have you taken any gold lately ? '

' No J but I have some old louis, nine or ten perhaps,
which you can have. Look here, my good friend, make
it up with Eugenie; all Saumur is pointing a finger at you.'

' The rogues ! *

' Well, consols have risen to ninety-nine, so you should
be satisfied for once in your life.'

' At ninety-nine, Cruchot ? '

« Yes.'

' Hey ! hey ! ninety-nine ! ' the old man said, as he
went with the notary to the street door. He felt too
much agitated by what he had just heard to stay
quietly at home ; so he went up to his wife's room.

' Come, mother, you may spend the day with your
daughter, I am going to Froidfond. Be good, both of
you, while I am away. This is our wedding day, dear
wife. — Stay ! here are ten crowns for you, for the Fete-
Dieu procession ; you have wanted to give it for long
enough. Take a holiday ! have some fun, keep up your
spirits and get well. Vive la joie I '

He threw down ten crov/ns of six francs each upon
the bed, took her face in his hands, and kissed her on the
forehead.

' You are feeling better, dear wife, are you not ? '

' But how can you think of receiving God, who forgives,
into your house, when you have shut your heart against
your daughter ? ' she said, with deep feeling in her voice.

' Tut, tut, tut ! ' said the father soothingly ; ' we will
see about that.'

1 88 Eugenie Grandet

' Merciful heaven ! Eugenie ! ' called the mother,
her face flushed with joy ; ' Eugenie, come and give your
father a kiss, you are forgiven ! * But her worthy father
had vanished. He fled with all his might in the direction
of his vineyards, where he set himself to the task of con-
structing his new world out of this chaos of strange
ideas.

Grandet had just entered upon his sixty-seventh year.
Avarice had gained a stronger hold upon him during the
past two years of his life ; indeed, all lasting passions
grow with man's growth ; and it had come to pass with
him, as with all men whose lives are ruled by one master-
i idea, that he clung with all the force of his imagination
\ to the symbol which represented that idea for him.
; Gold — to have gold, that he might see and touch it, had
become with him a perfect monomania. His disposition
to tyrannise had also grown with his love of money, and
it seemed to him to be moristrous that he should be called
upon to give up the least portion of his property on the
death of his wife. Was he to render an account of
her fortune, and to have an inventory drawn up of every-
thing he possessed — personalty and real estate, and put
it all up to auction ?

* That would be stark ruin,' he said aloud to himself,
as he stood among his vines and examined their stems.

He made up his mind at last, and came back to
Saumur at dinner time fully determined on his course.
He would humour Eugenie, and coax and cajole her so
that he might die royally, keeping the control of his
millions in his hands until his latest sigh. It happened
that he let himself in with his master key ; he crept
noiselessly as a wolf up the stairs to his wife's room,
which he entered just as Eugenie was setting the dress-
ing-case, in all its golden glory, upon her mother's bed.
The two women had stolen a pleasure in Grandet's
absence ; they were looking at the portraits and tracing
out Charles's features in his mother's likeness.

Eugenic Grandet 189

* It is just his forehead and his mouth ! * Eugenie was
saying, as the vinegrower opened the door.

Mme. Grandet saw how her husband's eyes darted
upon the gold. ' Oh ! God have pity upon us ! ' she
cried.

The vinegrower seized upon the dressing-case as a
tiger might spring upon a sleeping child.

' What may this be ? * he said, carrying off the
treasure to the window, where he ensconced himself
with it. 'Gold! solid gold!' he cried, 'and plenty
of it too ; there is a couple of pounds' weight here. Aha I
so this was what Charles gave you in exchange for your
pretty gold pieces ! Why did you not tell me ? It was
a good stroke of business, little girl. You are your
father's own daughter, I see. (Eugenie trembled from
head to foot.) This belongs to Charles, doesn't it ? '
the good man went on.

' Yes, father j it is not mine. That case is a sacred
trust.'

' Tut, tut, tut ! he has gone off with your money ;
you ought to make good the loss of your little treasure.'

' Oh ! father ! . . .'

The old man had taken out his pocket-knife, with a
view to wrenching away a plate of the precious metal,
and for the moment had been obliged to lay the case on
a chair beside him. Eugenie sprang forward to secure
her treasure j but the cooper, who had kept an eye upon
his daughter as well as upon the casket, put out his arm
to prevent this, and thrust her back so roughly that she
fell on to the bed.

'Sir ! sir ! ' cried the mother, rising and sitting upright.

Grandet had drawn out his knife, and was about to
i insert the blade beneath the plate.

' Father ! ' cried Eugenie, going down on her knees
and dragging herself nearer to him as she knelt ; ' father,
in the name of all the saints, and the Holy Virgin, for
the sake of Christ who died on the cross, for your own

190 Eugenie Grandet

soul's salvation, father, if you have any regard for my life,
do not touch it ! The case is not yours, and it is not
mine. It belongs to an unhappy kinsman, who gave it
into my keeping, and I ought to give it back to him
untouched.'

* What do you look at it for if it is a deposit ? Look-
ing at it is worse than touching it.*

' Do not pull it to pieces, father ! You will bring dis-
honour upon me. Father ! do you hear me ? '
' For pity's sake, sir ! ' intreated the mother.

* Father!'

The shrill cry rang through the house and brought
the frightened Nanon upstairs. Eugenie caught up a
knife that lay within her reach.

' Well ? ' said Grandet, calmly, with a cold smile on
his lips.

*Sir ! you are killing me ! ' said the mother.

* Father, if you cut away a single scrap of gold, I shall
stab myself with this knife. It is your doing that my
mother is dying, and now my death will also be laid at
your door. It shall be wound for wound.'

Grandet held his knife suspended above the case, looked
at his daughter, and hesitated.

* Would you really do it, Eugenie ? * he asked.

* Yes, sir ! ' said the mother.

'She would do as she says,' cried Nanon. 'Do be
sensible, sir, for once in your life.'

The cooper wavered for a moment, looking first at the
gold, and then at his daughter.

Mme. Grandet fainted.

' There ! sir, you see, the mistress is dying,' cried
Nanon.

< There ! there ! child, do not let us fall out about a
box. Just take it back ! ' cried the cooper hastily, throw-
ing the case on to the bed. 'And, Nanon, go for
M. Bergerin. Come ! come ! mother,' he said, and he
kissed his wife's hand -, ' never mind, there ! there ! we

Eugenie Grandet 191

have made it up, haven't we, little girl ? No more dry
bread ; you shall eat whatever you like . . . Ah ! she is
opening her eyes. Well, now, little mother, dear little
mother, don't take on so ! Look ! I am going to kiss
Eugenie ! She loves her cousin, does she ? She shall
marry him if she likes ; she shall keep his little case for
him. But you must live for a long while yet, my poor
wife ! Come ! turn your head a little. Listen ! you
shall have the finest altar at the Fete-Dieu that has ever
been seen in Saumur,'

' Oh ! mon Dieu ! how can you treat your wife and
daughter in this way ! ' moaned Mme. Grandet.

' I will never do so again, never again I ' cried the
cooper. ' You shall see, my poor wife.'

He went to his strong room and returned with a hand-
ful of louis d'or, which he scattered on the coverlet.

'There ! Eugenie, there ! wife, those are for you,' he
said, fingering the gold coins as they lay. 'Come!
cheer up, and get well, you shall want for nothing,
neither you nor Eugenie. There are a hundred louis for
her. You will not give them away, will you, eh,
Eugenie ? '

Mme. Grandet and her daughter gazed at each other
in amazement.

'Take back the money, father; we want nothing,
nothing but your love.'

' Oh ! well, just as you like,' he said, as he pocketed
the louis, 'let us live together like good friends. Let us
all go down to the dining-room and have dinner,
and play loto every evening, and put our two sous
into the pool, and be as merry as the maids. Eh ! my
wife?'

' Alas ! how I wish that I could, if you would like it,*
said the dying woman, ' but I am not strong enough to
get up.'

' Poor mother ! ' said the cooper, ' you do not know
how much I love you ; and you too, child ! '

192 Eugenie Grandet

He drew his daughter to him and embraced her with
fervour.

' Oh ! how pleasant it is to kiss one's daughter after
a squabble, my little girl ! There ! mother, do you
see ? We are quite at one again now. Just go and
lock that away,' he said to Eugenie, as he pointed to
the case. ' There ! there ! don't be frightened ; I will
never say another word to you about it.'

M. Bergerin, who was regarded as the cleverest doctor
in Saumur, came before very long. He told Grandet
plainly after the interview that the patient was very
seriously ill ; that any excitement might be fatal to her ;
that with a light diet, perfect tranquillity, and the most
constant care, her life might possibly be prolonged until
the end of the autumn.

' Will it be an expensive illness ? ' asked the worthy
householder. 'Will she want a lot of physic ? '

' Not much physic, but very careful nursing,' answered
the doctor, who could not help smiling.

'After all, M. Bergerin, you are a man of honour,'
said Grandet uneasily. ' I can depend upon you, can I
not ? Come and see my wife whenever, and as often as
you think it really necessary. Preserve her life. My
good wife — I am very fond of her, you see, though I
may not show it ; it is all shut up inside me, and I
am one that takes things terribly to heart ; I am in
trouble too. It all began with my brother's death j I am
spending, oh ! — heaps of money in Paris for him, — the
very eyes out of my head in fact, and it seems as if there
were no end to it. Good day, sir. If you can save my
wife, save her, even if it takes a hundred, or two hundred
francs.'

In spite of Grandet's fervent wishes that his wife
might be restored to health, for this question of the
inheritance was like a foretaste of death for him ; in
spite of his readiness to fulfil the least wishes of the
astonished mother and daughter in every possible way;

Eugenie Grandet 193

in spite of Eugenie's tenderest and most devoted care,
it was evident that Mme. Grandet's life was rapidly
drawing to a close. Day by day she grew weaker, and,
as often happens at her time of life, she had no strength
to resist the disease that was wasting her away. She
seemed to have no more vitality than the autumn leaves ;
and as the sunlight shining through the leaves turns
them to gold, so she seemed to be transformed by the
light of heaven. Her death was a fitting close to her
life, a death wholly Christian ; is not that saying that it
was sublime ? Her love for her daughter, her meek
virtues, her angelic patience, had never shone more
brightly than in that month of October 1822, when she
passed away. All through her illness she had never
uttered the slightest complaint, and her spotless soul left
earth for heaven with but one regret — for the daughter
whose sweet companionship had been the solace of her
dreary life, and for whom her dying eyes foresaw troubles
and sorrows manifold. She trembled at the thought of
this lamb, spotless as she herself was, left alone in the
world among selfish beings who sought to despoil her of
her fleece, her treasure. \ j- .

'There is no happiness save in heaven,' she said just \ y
before she died j 'you will know that one day, my Ws

child.'

On the morrow after her mother's death, it seemed to
Eugenie that she had yet one more reason for clinging

' fondly to the old house where she had been born, and
where she had found Hfe so hard of late — it became for
her the place where her mother had died. She could

I not see the old chair set on little blocks of wood, the

[ place by the window where her mother used to sit, with-
out shedding tears. Her father showed her such tender-
ness, and took such care of her, that she began to think
that she had never understood his nature ; he used to
come to her room and take her down to breakfast on his

; arm, and sit looking at her for whole hours with some-

N

194 Eugenie Grandet

thing almost like kindness in his eyes, with the same
brooding look that he gave his gold. Indeed, the old
cooper almost trembled before his daughter, and was I
altogether so unlike himself, that Nanon and the
Cruchotins wondered at these signs of weakness, and set
it down to his advanced age ; they began to fear that
the old man's mind was giving way. But when the
day came on which the family began to wear their
mourning, M. Cruchot, who alone was in his client's
confidence, was invited to dinner, and these mysteries
were explained. Grandet waited till the table had been
cleared, and the doors carefully shut.

Then he began. 'My dear child, you are your
mother's heiress, and there are some little matters of
business that we must settle between us. Is not that
so, eh, Cruchot .? '

' Yes.'

* Is it really pressing ; must it be settled to-day,
father ? '

' Yes, yes, little girl. I could not endure this sus-
pense any longer, and I am sure that you would not
make things hard for me.'

' Oh ! father '

' Well, then, everything must be decided to-night.*

* Then what do you want me to do ? '
' Why, little girl, it is not for me to tell you. You

tell her, Cruchot.' -l

' Mademoiselle, your father wants neither to divide
nor to sell his property, nor to pay a heavy succession
duty upon the ready money he may happen to have
just now. So if these complications are to be avoided,
there must be no inventory made out, and all the

property must remain undivided for the present '

' Cruchot, are you quite sure of what you are saying
that you talk in this way before a child ? '
' Let me say what I have to say, Grandet.'
' Yes, yes, my friend. Neither you nor my daughter

Eugenie Grandet 195

would plunder me. You would not plunder me, would
you, little girl?

' But what am I to do, M. Cruchot ? * asked Eugenie,
losing patience.

' Well,' said the notary, ' you must sign this deed, by
which you renounce your claims to vour mother's
property ; the property would be secured to you, but
your father would have the use of it for his life, and there
would be no need to make a division now.'

' I understand nothing of all this that you are saying,'
Eugenie answered j ' give me the deed, and show me
I where I am to sign my name.'

I Grandet looked from the document to his daughter,
' and again from his daughter to the document. His
agitation was so great that he actually wiped several
drops of perspiration from his forehead.

' I would much rather you simply waived all claim to
your poor dear mother's property, little girl,' he broke
in, 'instead of signing that deed. It will cost a lot to
register it. I would rather you renounced your claims
and trusted to me for the future. I would allow you a
good round sum, say a hundred francs every month.
You could pay for masses then, you see j you could have
masses said for any one that , • . Eh ? A hundred francs
(in livres) every month ? '

'I will do just as you like, father.'

' Mademoiselle,' said the notary, ' it is my duty to point out
to you that youarerobbingyourself withoutguarantee '

' Eh ! mon Dieu ! ' she answered. ' What does that
matter to me ? '

' Do be quiet, Cruchot. So it is settled, quite settled ! '
cried Grandet, taking his daughter's hand and striking his
own into it. 'You will not go back from your word,
Eugenie ? You are a good girl, hein ! *

'Oh! father '

In his joy he embraced his daughter, almost* suffocating
her as he did so.

154 Eugenie Grandet

for Charles's love had received a moment's consecration
in the presence of Eugenie's simple sincerity.

It was a melancholy group round the breakfast-table
next morning. Even Nanon herself, in spite of Charles's
gift of a new^ gov^^n and a gilt cross, had a tear in her
eye ; but she was free to express her feelings, and did so.

^ Oh ! that poor, delicate young gentleman who is
going to sea,' was the burden of her discourse.

At half-past ten the whole family left the house to see
Charles start for Nantes in the diligence. Nanon had
let the dog loose, and locked the door, and meant to
carry Charles's handbag. Every shopkeeper in the ancient
street was in the doorway to watch the little procession
pass. M. Cruchot joined them in the market-place.

' Eugenie,' whispered her mother, ' mind you do not
cry ! '

They reached the gateway of the inn, and there
Grandet kissed Charles on both cheeks. ' Well !
nephew,' he said, ' set out poor and come back rich ; you
leave your father's honour in safe keeping. I — Grandet —
will answer to you for that ; you will only have to do
your part '

' Oh ! uncle, this sweetens the bitterness of parting.
Is not this the greatest gift you could possibly give me ? '

Charles had broken in upon the old cooper's remarks
before he quite understood their drift ; he put his arms
round his uncle's neck, and let fall tears of gratitude on
the vinegrower's sunburned cheeks ; Eugenie clasped her
cousin's hand in one of hers, and her father's in the other,
and held them tightly. Only the notary smiled to
himself; he alone understood the worthy man, and he
could not help admiring his astute cunning.- The four
Saumurois and a little group of onlookers hung about the
diligence till the last moment ; and looked after it until
it disappeared across the bridge, and the sound of the
wheels grew faint and distant.

* A good riddance ! ' said the cooper.

i

Eugenie Grandct 155

Luckily, no one but M. Cruchot heard this ejaculation ;
Eugenie and her mother had walked along the quay to a
point of view whence they could still see the diligence,
and stood there waving their handkerchiefs and watching
Charles's answering signal till he was out of sight j then
Eugenie turned.

'Oh ! mother, mother, if I had God's power for one
moment,' she said.

To save further interruption to the course of the story,
it is necessary to glance a little ahead, and give a brief
account of the course of events in Paris, of Grandet's
calculations, and the action taken by his worthy lieutenant
the banker in the matter of Guillaume Grandet's affairs.
A month after des Grassins had gone, Grandet received a
certificate for a hundred thousand livres per annum of
rentes J purchased at eighty francs. No information was ever
forthcoming as to how and when the actual coin had been
paid, or the receipt taken, which in due course had been
exchanged for the certificate. The inventory and state-
ment of his affairs which the miser left at his death threw
no light upon the mystery, and Cruchot fancied that in some
way or other Nanon must have been the unconscious
instrument employed ; for about that time the faithful
serving-maid was away from home for four or five days,
ostensibly to see after matters at Froidfond, as if its
worthy owner were likely to forget anything there that
required looking after ! As for Guillaume Grandet's
creditors, everything had happened as the cooper had
intended and foreseen.

At the Bank of France (as everybody knows) they
keep accurate lists of all the great fortunes in Paris or
in the departments. The names of des Grassins and of
Felix Grandet of Saumur were duly to be found inscribed
therein 5 indeed, they shone conspicuous there as well-
known names in the business world, as men who were
not only financially sound, but owners of broad acres
unencumbered by mortgages. And now it was said that

196 Eugenie Grandct

'There! child, you have given fresh life to your
father ; but you are only giving him what he gave you,
so we are quits. This is how business ought to be con-
ducted, and life is a business transaction. Bless you f
You are a good girl, and one that really loves her old
father. You can do as you like now. Then good-bye
till to-morrow, Cruchot,' he added, turning to the horrified
notary. ' You will see that the deed of renunciation is
properly drawn up for the clerk of the court.'

By noon next day the declaration was drawn up, and
Eugenie herself signed away all her rights to her heritage.
Yet a year slipped by, and the cooper had not kept his
promise, and Eugenie had not received a sou of the
monthly income which was to have been hers ; when
Eugenie spoke to him about it, half laughingly, he could
not help blushing ; he hurried up to his room, and when
he came down again he handed her about a third of the
jewellery which he had purchased of his nephew.

' There ! child,' he said, with a certain sarcastic ring in
his voice ; ' will you take these for your twelve hundred
francs ? '

' Oh ! father, really ? Will you really give them to
me?'

' You shall have as much next year again,' said he,
flinging it into her lap ; ' and so, before very long, you
will have all his trinkets,' he added, rubbing his hands.
He had made a very good bargain, thanks to his daughter's
sentiment about the jewellery, and was in high good-
humour.

Yet, although the old man was still hale and vigorous,
he began to see that he must take his daughter into his
confidence, and that she must learn to manage his con-
cerns. So with this end in view he required her to be
present while he gave out the daily stores, and for two
years he made her receive the portion of the rent which
was paid in kind. Gradually she came to know the
names of the vineyards and farms j he took her with him

I

Eugenie Grandet 197

when he visited his tenants. By the end of the third
year he considered the initiation was complete ; and, in
truth, she had fallen into his ways unquestioningly, till
it had become a matter of habit with her to do as her
father had done before her. He had no further doubts,
gave over the keys of the storeroom into her keeping, and
installed her as mistress of the house.

Five years went by in this way, and no event disturbed
their monotonous existence. Eugenie and her father
lived a life of methodical routine with the same regularity
of movement that characterised the old clock; doing the-^V
same things at the same hour day after day, year after '
year. Every one knew that there had been a profound
sorrow in Mile. Grandet's life ; every circle in Saumur
had its theories of this secret trouble, and its suspicions
as to the state of the heiress's heart, but she never let
fall a word that could enlighten any one on either
point.

She saw no one but the three Cruchots and a few of
their friends, who had gradually been admitted as visitors
to the house. Under their instruction she had mastered
the game of whist, and they dropped in nearly every
evening for a rubber. In the year 1827 her father began
to feel the infirmities of age, and was obliged to take her
still further into his confidence 3 she learned the full
extent of his landed possessions, and was recommended
in all cases of difficulty to refer to the notary Cruchot,
whose integrity could be depended upon. Grandet had
reached the age of eighty-two, and towards the end of
the year had a paralytic seizure, from which he never
rallied. M. Bergerin gave him up, and Eugenie realised
that very shortly she would be quite alone in the world ;
the thought drew her more closely to her father ; she
clung to this last link of affection that bound her to
another soul. Love was all the world for her, as it is
for all women who love ; and Charles had gone out of >-
her world. She nursed her father with sublime devotion ;

^98 Eugenie Grandet

the old man's intellect had grown feeble, but the greed
of gold had become an instinct which survived his
faculties.

Grandet died as he had lived. Every morning during
that slow death he had himself wheeled across his room
to a place beside the fire, whence he could keep the door
of his cabinet in view ; on the other side of the door, no
doubt, lay his hoarded treasures of gold. He sat there,
passive and motionless; but if any one entered the room,
he would glance uneasily at the nevv-comer, and then at
the door with its sheathing of iron plates. He would ask
the meaning of every sound, however faint, and, to the
notary's amazement, the old man heard the dog bark in
the yard at the back of the house. He roused from this
apparent stupor at the proper hour on the days for receiv-
ing his rents and dues, for settling accounts with his
vine-dressers, and giving receipts. Then he shifted his
armchair round on its castors, until he faced the door of his
cabinet, and his daughter was called upon to open it, and
to put away the little bags of money in neat piles, one
upon the other. He would watch her until it was all
over and the door was locked again ; and as soon as she
had returned the precious key to him, he would turn
round noiselessly and take up his old position, putting
the key in his waistcoat pocket, where he felt for it from
time to time.

His old friend the notary felt sure that it was only a
question of time, and that Eugenie must of necessity
marry his nephew the magistrate, unless, indeed, Charles
Grandet returned ; so he redoubled his attentions. He
came every day to take Grandet's instructions, went at
his bidding to Froidfond, to farm and meadow and vine-
yard ; sold vintages, and exchanged all moneys received
for gold, which was secretly sent to join the piles of bags
stored up in the cabinet.

Then death came up close at last, and the vinegrower's
strong frame wrestled with the Destroyer. Even in

1

Eugenie Grandet 199

those days he would sit as usual by the fire, facing the
door of his cabinet. He used to drag ofF the blankets
that they wrapped round him, and try to fold them, and
say to Nanon, ' Lock that up ; lock that up, or they will
rob me.'

So long as he could open his eyes, where the last
sparks of life seemed to linger, they used to turn at once
to the door of the room where all his treasures lay, and
he would say to his daughter, in tones that seemed to
thrill with a panic of fear —

' Are they there still ? ' -;

' Yes, father.'

' Keep watch over the gold ! . . . Let me see the
gold.'

Then Eugenie used to spread out the louis on a table
before him, and he would sit for whole hours with his
eyes fixed on the louis in an unseeing stare, like that of
a child who begins to see for the first time ; and some-
times a weak infantine smile, painful to see, would steal
across his features.

' That warms me ! ' he muttered more than once, and
his face expressed a perfect content.

When the cure came to administer the sacrament, all
the life seemed to have died out of the miser's eyes, but
they lit up for the first time for many hours at the sight
of the silver crucifix, the candlesticks, and holy water
vessel, all of silver ; he fixed his gaze on the precious
metal, and the wen twitched for the last time.

As the priest held the gilded crucifix above him that
the image of Christ might be laid to his lips, he made a
frightful effort to clutch it — a last effort which cost him
his life. He called to Eugenie, who saw nothing; she
was kneeling beside him, bathing in tears the hand that
was growing cold already. 'Give me your blessing,
father,' she entreated. ' Be very careful I ' the last words
came from him ; ' one day you will render an account to j
me of everything here below.' Which utterance clearly /

200 Eugenie Grandct

shows that a miser should adopt Christianity as his
reHgion.

So Eugenie Grandet was alone in the world, and her
house was left to her desolate. There was no one but
Nanon with whom she could talk over her troubles ; she
could look into no other eyes and find a response in
them ; big Nanon was the only human being who loved
her for herself. For Eugenie, Nanon was a providence j
she was no longer a servant, she was a humble friend.

M. Cruchot informed Eugenie that she had three
hundred thousand livres a year, derived from landed
property in and around Saumur, besides six millions in
the three per cents, (invested when the funds were at
sixty francs, whereas they now stood at seventy-seven),
and in ready money two millions in gold, and a hundred
thousand francs in silver, without counting any arrears
that were due. Altogether her property amounted to
about seventeen million francs.

' Where can my cousin be ? ' she said to herself.

On the day when M. Cruchot laid these facts before
his new client, together with the information that the
estate was now clear and free from all outstanding
liabihties, Eugenie and Nanon sat on either side of the
hearth, in the parlour, now so empty and so full of memories ;
everything recalled past days, from her mother's chair set
on its wooden blocks to the glass tumbler out of which
her cousin once drank.

' Nanon, we are alone, you and I.'

'Yes, mam'selle^ if I only knew where he was, the
charming young gentleman, 1 would set oft on foot to
find him.* **

' The sea lies between us,' said Eugenie.

While the poor lonely heiress, with her faithful old
servant for company, was shedding tears in the cold,
dark house, which was all the world she knew, men

Eugenie Grandet 201

talked from Orleans to Nantes of nothing but Mile.
Grandet and her seventeen millions. One of her first
acts was to settle a pension of twelve hundred francs on
Nanon, who, possessing already an income of six hundred
francs of her own, at once became a great match. In
less than a month she exchanged her condition of spinster
for that of wife, at the instance and through the persua-
sion of Antoine Cornoiller, who was promoted to the
position of bailiff and keeper to Mile. Grandet. Mme.
Cornoiller had an immense advantage over her contem-
poraries ; her large features had stood the test of time
better than those of many a comelier woman. She might
be fifty-nine years of age, but she did not look more than
forty ; thanks to an almost monastic regimen, she
possessed rude health and a high colour, time seemed to
have no efi^ect on her, and perhaps she had never looked
so well in her life as she did on her wedding day. She
had the compensating qualities of her style of ugHness ;
she was tall, stout, and strong ; her face wore an inde-
structible expression of good humour, and Cornoiller*s
lot seemed an enviable one to many beholders.

' Fast colour,' said the draper.

' She might have a family yet,' said the drysalter ;
' she is as well preserved as if she had been kept in brine,
asking your pardon.'

' She is rich ; that fellow Cornoiller has done a good
day's work,' said another neighbour.

When Nanon left the old house and went down the
crooked street on her way to the parish church, she met
with nothing but congratulations and good wishes. Nanon
ivas very popular with her neighbours. Eugenie gave
her three dozen spoons and forks as a wedding present.
Cornoiller, quite overcome with such munificence, spoke
of his mistress with tears in his eyesj he would have let
himself be cut in pieces for her. Mme. Cornoiller
became Eugenie's confidential servant ; she was not only
married, and had a husband of her own, her dignity was

r

202 Eugenie Grandet

yet further increased, her happiness was doubled. She
had at last a storeroom and a bunch of keys ; she too
gave out provisions just as her late master used to do.
Then she had two subordinates — a cook and a waiting-
woman, who took charge of the house linen and made
Mile. Grandet's dresses. As for Cornoiller, he combined
the functions of forester and steward. It is needless to
say that the cook and waiting-woman of Nanon's
choosing were real domestic treasures. The tenants
scarcely noticed the death of their late landlord ; they were
thoroughly broken in to a severe discipline, and M. and
Mme. Cornoiller's reign was no whit less rigorous than
that of the old regime.

{ Eugenie was a woman of thirty, and as yet had known
none of the happiness of life. All through her joyless,
•V monotonous childhood she had had but one companion,
the broken-spirited mother, whose sensitive nature had
found little but suffering in a hard life. That mother
had joyfully taken leave of existence, pitying the daughter
who must still live on in the world. Eugenie would
never lose the sense of her loss, but little of the bitter-
ness of self-reproach mingled with her memories of her
inother.
Love, her first and only love, had been a fresh source
iF suffering for Eugenie. For a few brief days she had
een her lover ; she had given her heart to him between
two stolen kisses ; then he had left her, and had set the lands
and seas of the world between them. Her father had
cursed her for this love ; it had nearly cost her her
mother's life j it had brought her pain and sorrow and a
few faint hopes. She had striven towards her happiness
till her own forces had failed her, and another had not
come to her aid.

Our souls live by giving and receiving ; we have need
of another soul ; whatever it gives us we make our own,
and give back again in overflowing measure. This is as
vitally necessary for our inner life as breathing is for our
corporeal existence. Without that wonderful physical

Eugenie Grandet 203

process we perish ; the heart suffers from lack of air, and
ceases to beat. Eugenie was beginning to sufFer.

She found no solace in her wealth ; it could do nothing
for her ; her love, her religic^n, her faith in the future
made up all her life. Love was teaching her what
eternity meant. Her own heart and the Gospel each
spoke to her of a life to come ; life was everlasting, and
love no less eternal. Night and day she dwelt with these
two infinite thoughts, perhaps for her they were but one.
She withdrew more and more into herself; she loved, and
believed that she was loved.

For seven years her passion had wholly engrossed her.

Her treasures were not those millions left to her by her
father, the money that went on accumulating year after
year ; but the two portraits which hung above her bed,
Charles's leather case, the jewels which she had bought
back from her father, and which were now proudly set
forth on a layer of cotton wool inside the drawer in the
old chest, and her aunt*s thimble which Mme. Grandet
had used j every day Eugenie took up a piece of em-
broidery, a sort of Penelope's web, which she had only
begun that she might wear the golden thimble, endeared
to her by so many memories.

It seemed hardly probable that Mile. Grandet would
marry while she still wore mourning. Her sincere piety
was well known. So the Cruchot family, counselled by
the astute old Abbe, was fain to be content with sur-
rounding the heiress with the most affectionate attentions.
Her dining-room was filled every evening with the
warmest and most devoted Cruchotins, who endeavoured
to surpass each other in singing the praises of the mistress
of the house in every key. She had her physician-in-
ordinary, her grand almoner, her chamberlain, her mistress
of the robes, her prime minister, and last, but by no
means least, her chancellor — a chancellor whose aim it
was to keep her informed of everything. If the heiress
had expressed any wish for a train-bearer, they would
have found one for her. She was a queen in fact, and

v

ao4 Eugenic Gnuidct

nrvci w;ts (\\irrfi so .idroilly flattered. A f>;reat SOul never
stoops to flattery; it is the resource of little natures, who
succeed in niakni/j; tlienisclves smaller still, that they may
the hetter cr(<:|) into the hearts of those about whom they
circle. Mattery, hy its very nature, im|)lies an interested
motive. So the peopN: who filled Mile, (irandet's sitting-
room eve/ y cvenini* (they addressed her and spoke of lier
aujonj' llnMiselves as Mile, de I'roidfond now) lie;iped
their p/;iises upon their hostess in a ni;in/iei truly mar-
vellous. This cliorus ol |)raise eniharrassed l^uj'enie at
lust i l)ul however pross (he flattery mij^ht he, she hecame
accustomed to hear her beauty extolled, aiul if some new-
comer had considered lier to be plain, she certainly would
have wincetl more under the (rititism than she nji|'lit
have done ei|'ht years ;i|'o. Siie tame at l;ist to wehoiiie
lh<rr hom.ij'e, whr( h rn lier set ret luait she lard al the
teet ol her idol. So also, by de|' rces, she accepted the
position, ami allowed her sell to l)e treated as a (preen, and
saw her little court full every evenin|».

M. le J^resiilent de Hoiiloris was the heio ol the circle;
they lauded his talents, his personal appearance, his
learrtin]', his annabihly; hr was an inexhaustible subject
of admirinj' lornment. Su( h an one would call atten-
tion to the hut that in seven years the maj'ist rale h.id
lar|»,ely irrcreased his (ortirne; Hoiiloris had at least ten
thousand francs u year ; .md his pi()|)er ty, like the lands ol
all the Cruchots in lact, lay within the c< nipass oi the
hciress*s vast estates.

"^ Oo you know, madcmoiselle,\mother c«)Ui tier would
remark, * that the CJruchots have forty thousand livres a
year amorij' them ' '

* And they ,iie puttinp^ money by,* said Mile, de
( Ir ibcauiour t, an old and trusty Ciucholine. M^iicc
lately a {.\enlleman came Irom Maris on purj)osc to otter
M. C'riuhot two hundied thousand Ir.incs fttr his pro-
l(*ssronal ionriei lion. ll he loiild ^',ain an appornlmcnt
as justice cl the peace, he ou|>hl to take the ofler.*

luigcnie (irancict lo^

* He ni(!;ins to succeed M. (!<' IJonloris ,r. IVritidml,
and is taking; steps to lliat <n(l,' saiti IVlnn-. d'Ocionv.il,
* (or M. Ic President will be a ('ouiu ill<ii, and then a
Frcsitlent of a Comt ; lie is so /'illcd tli.it lie it •Mm- lo
succeed.*

'Yes,* said another, 'lie is a very lein.uk.iblr ni.in.
Do yon not think so^ inadeinoiselle ? '

* JVI. le President ' had striven to act up to the p,n i h<-
wanted to |)l.iy. Ihwasloiiy years old, his ( oinn«ii,in(e
was dark and ill- favoured, he had, nioreovci, the wi/.ened
h)ok which is frecpicully seen in men ol his piotesMo/i j
hut he aft'cctcd the airs of youth, sported a nialacca canr,
refrained from taking sinili in Mile, (irandet's house, and
went thither arrayed in a white cravat and a shirt with
huj!;e (tills, whi( h gave him a (piaint (ainily res( ndihincc
to a turkcy-gohhier. lie called the fair heiress *our dear
l',u;M-nie,* aiul spoke as if lie wcic an ititimate friend of
the lainily. In fact, hut for the numherof those assenihled,
and the suhstitution of whist for loto, and the absence of
M. and Mine, (iratulet, the scene was scarcely changed ;
it tuight almost have been that first evening on which
this story began.

I'he pack was still in pursuit of Eugenie's millions; it
was a more numerous pac k now ; they gave tongue
together, ami hunted down their prey more systematically.

If Charles had come back fiom the far-oft Indies, he
wotild have found the same niotivcs at work and almost
the sante jieople. Mme. des (Jrassins, for whom Kugenic
had nothing but kindness and pity, still remained to vex
the Cruchots. Eugenie's face still shone out against the
dark background, and Charles (though invisible) reigned
theie supreme as in other days.

Yet some advance had been made. P^ugenie's birthday
boiKptet was never forgotten by the magistrate. Indeed,
it had become an institution ; every evening he brought
the heiress a huge and wonderful bourpjct. Mme.
Cornoiller ostentatiously placed these offerings in a vase,

2o6 Eugenie Grandet

and promptly flung them into a corner of the yard as
soon as the visitors had departed.

In the early spring Mme. des Grassins made a move,
and sought to trouble the felicity of the Cruchotins by
talking to Eugenie of the Marquis de Froidfond, whose
ruined fortunes might be retrieved if the heiress vvrould
return his estate to him by a marriage contract. Mme.
des Grassins lauded the Marquis and his title to the
skies ; and, taking Eugenie's quiet smile for consent, she
urent about saying that M. le President Cruchot's
marriage was not such a settled thing as some people
imagined.

' M. de Froidfond may be fifty years old,* she said,
' but he looks no older than M. Cruchot ; he is a
widower, and has a family, it is true; but he is a
marquis, he will be a peer of France one of these days,
it is not such a bad match as times go. I know of my
own certain knowledge that when old Grandet added
his own property to the Froidfond estate he meant to
graft his family into the Froidfonds. He often told
me as much. Oh ! he was a shrewd old man, was
Grandet.'

' Ah ! Nanon,' Eugenie said one evening, as she went
to bed, ' why has he not once written to me in seven
years ? ' . . .

While these events were taking place in Saumur,
Charles was making his fortune in the East. His first
venture was very successful. He had promptly realised
the sum of six thousand dollars. Crossing the line had
cured him of many early prejudices ; he soon saw very
clearly that the best and quickest way of making money
was the same in the tropics as in Europe — by buying and
selling men. He made a descent on the African coasts
and bargained for negroes and other goods in demand in
various markets. He threw himself heart and soul into
his business, and thought of nothing else. He set one

Eugenie Grandet 207

clear aim before him, to reappear in Paris, and to dazzle
the world there with his wealth, to attain a position
even higher than the one from which he had fallen.

By dint of rubbing shoulders with many men, travel-r
ling in many lands, coming in contact with various\
customs and rehgions, his code had been relaxed, and\
he had grown sceptical. His notions of right and \
wrong became less rigid when he found that what was \
looked upon as a crime in one country was held up to 1
admiration in another. He saw that every one was \
working for himself, that disinterestedness was rarely to «
be met with, and grew selfish and suspicious j the
hereditary failings of the Grandets came out in him — the
hardness, the shiftiness, and the greed of gain. He sold
Chinese coolies, negro slaves, swallow-nests, children,
artists, anything and everything that brought in money.
He became a money lender on a large scale. Long
practice in cheating the customs authorities had made
him unscrupulous in other ways. He would make the
voyage to St. Thomas, buy booty of the pirates there for
a low price, and sell the merchandise in the dearest
market.

During his first voyage Eugenie's pure and noble
face had been with him, like the image of the Virgin
which Spanish sailors set on the prows of their vessels ;
he had attributed his first success to a kind of magical
efficacy possessed by her prayers and vows ; but as time
went on, the women of other countries, negresses,
mulattoes, white skins, and yellow skins, orgies and
adventures in many lands, completely effaced all recollec-
tion of his cousin, of Saumur, of the old house, of
the bench, and of the kiss that he had snatched in the
passage. He remembered nothing but the little garden
shut in by its crumbHng walls where he had learned the
fate that lay in store for him 5 but he rejected all connec-
tion with the family. His uncle was an old fox who had
filched his jewels. Eugenie had no place in his heart,

2o8 Eugenie Grandet

he never gave her a thought ; but she occupied a page in
his ledger as a creditor for six thousand francs.

Such conduct and such ideas explained Charles
Grandet's silence. In the East Indies, at St. Thomas,
on the coast of Africa, at Lisbon, in the United States,
Charles Grandet the adventurer w^as know^n as Carl
Sepherd, a pseudonym which he assumed so as not to
compromise his real name. Carl Sepherd could be
indefatigable, brazen, and greedy of gain ; could conduct
himself, in short, like a man who resolves to make a
fortune quibuscumque viisj and makes haste to have done
with villainy as soon as possible, in order to live respected
for the rest of his days.

With such methods his career of prosperity was rapid
and brilliant, and in 1827 he returned to Bordeaux on
board the Marie Caroline^ a fine brig belonging to a
Royalist firm. He had nineteen hundred thousand francs
with him in gold dust, carefully secreted in three strong
casks ; he hoped to sell it to the Paris mint, and to make
eight per cent, on the transaction. There was also on
board the brig a gentleman-in-ordinary to his Majesty
J-'/Charles x., a M. d'Aubrion, a worthy old man who had
\^)j /been rash enough to marry a woman of fashion whose
money came from estates in the West India Islands.
Mme. d'Aubrion's reckless extravagance had obliged
^.him to go out to the Indies to sell her property.
* M. and Mme. d'Aubrion, of the house of d'Aubrion
de Buch, which had lost its captal or chieftain
just before the Revolution, were now in straitened cir-
cumstances. They had a bare twenty thousand francs
of income and a daughter, a very plain girl, whom her
mother made up her mind to marry without a dowry \
for life in Paris is expensive, and, as has been seen, their
means were reduced. It was an enterprise the success
of which might have seemed somewhat problematical to a
man of the world, in spite of the cleverness with which
a woman of fashion is generally credited. Perhaps even

i

Eugenie Grandet 209

Mme. d'Aubrion herself, when she looked at her daughter,
was almost ready to despair of getting rid of her to any one,
even to the most besotted worshipper of rank and titles.

Mile. d'Aubrionwas a tall, spare demoiselle, somewhat
like her namesake the insect ; she had a disdainful mouth,
overshadowed by a long nose, thick at the tip, sallow in
its normal condition, but very red after a meal, an organic
change which was all the more unpleasant by reason of
contrast with a pallid, insipid countenance^ From some
points of view she was all that a worldly mother, who
was thirty-eight years of age, and had still some preten-
sions to beauty, could desire. But by way of compensat-
ing advantages, the Marquise d'Aubrion's distinguished
air had been inherited by her daughter, and that young
lady had been submitted to a Spartan regimen, which for
the time being subdued the offending hue in her feature
to a reasonable flesh-tint. Her mother had taught her
how to dress herself. Under the same instructor she had
acquired a charming manner, and had learned to assume
that pensive expression which interests a man and leads
him to imagine that here, surely, is the angel for whom
he has hitherto sought in vain. She was carefully
drilled in a certain manoeuvre with her foot — to let it peep
forth from beneath her petticoat, and so call attention to
its small size — whenever her nose became unseasonably
red ; indeed, the mother had made the very best of her
daughter. By means of large sleeves, stiff skirts, puffs,
padding, and high pressure corsets she had produced a
highly curious and interesting result, a specimen of
femininity which ought to have been put into a museum
for the edification of mothers generally.

Charles became very intimate with Mme. d'Aubrion ;
the lady had her own reasons for encouraging him.
People said that during the time on board she left no
stone unturned to secure such a prize for a son-in-law.
It is at any rate certain that when they landed at
Bordeaux Charles stayed in the same hotel with M.,

vV

y \

210 Eugenic Grandet

Mme., and Mile. d'Aubrion, and they all travelled
together to Paris. The hotel d'Aubrion was hampered
with mortgages, and Charles was intended to come to
the rescue. The mother had gone so far as to say that
it would give her great pleasure to establish a son-in-law
on the ground floor. She did not share M. d'Aubrion's
aristocratic prejudices, and promised Charles Grandet to
obtain letters patent from that easy-tempered monarch,
Charles x., which should authorise him, Grandet, to
bear the name and assume the arms of the d'Aubrions,
and (by purchasing the entail) to succeed to the pro-
perty of Aubrion, which was worth about thirty-six
thousand hvres a year, to say nothing of the titles of
Captal de Buch and Marquis d'Aubrion. They could
be very useful to each other in short ; and what with this
arrangement of a joint establishment, and one or two
posts about the court, the hotel d'Aubrion might count
upon an income of a hundred thousand francs and more.

' And when a man has a hundred thousand francs a
year, a name, a family, and a position at Court — for I
shall procure an appointment for you as gentleman of the
bedchamber — the rest is easy. You can be anything you
choose ' (so she instructed Charles), ' Master of Requests
in the Council of State, Prefect, Secretary to an Embassy,
the Ambassador himself if you like. Charles x. is much
attached to d'Aubrion j they have known each other from
childhood.'

She fairly turned his head with these ambitious schemes,
and during the voyage Charles began to cherish the
hopes and ideas which had been so cleverly insinuated
in the form of tender confidences. He never doubted
but that his uncle had paid his father's creditors ; he had
been suddenly launched into the society of the Faubourg
St. Germain, at that time the goal of social ambition ;
and beneath the shadow of Mile. Mathilde's purple nose,
he was shortly to appear as the Comte d'Aubrion, very
much as the Dreux shone forth transformed into Brezes.

Eugenic Grande t 211

He was dazzled by the apparent prosperity of the
restored dynasty, which had seemed to be tottering to
its fall when he left France ; his head was full of wild
ambitious dreams, which began on the voyage, and did
not leave him in Paris. He resolved to strain every nerve
to reach those pinnacles of glory which his egotistical
would-be mother-in-law had pointed out to him. His
cousin was only a dim speck in the remote past ; she had
no place in this brilliant future, no part in his dreams,
but he went to see Annette. That experienced woman
of the world gave counsel to her old friend ; he must by
no means let slip such an opportunity for an alliance ; she
promijed to aid him in all his schemes of advancement.
In her heart she was delighted to see Charles thus secured
to such a plain and uninteresting girl. He had grown
very attractive during his stay in the Indies ; his com-
plexion had grown darker, he had gained in manliness
and self-possession ; he spoke in the firm, decided tones
of a man who is used to command and to success. Ever
since Charles Grandet had discovered that there was a
definite part for him to play in Paris, he was himself at
once.

Des Grassins, hearing of his return, his approaching
marriage, and his large fortune, came to see him, and
spoke of the three hundred thousand francs still owing to
his father's creditors. He found Charles closeted with a
goldsmith, from whom he had ordered jewels for Mile.
d'Aubrion's corhcille^ and who was submitting designs.
Charles himself had brought magnificent diamonds from
the Indies ; but the cost of setting them, together with
the silver plate and jewellery of the new establishment,
amounted to more than two hundred thousand francs.
He did not recognise des Grassins at first, and treated
him with the cool insolence of a young man of fashion
who is conscious that he has killed four men in as many
duels in the Indies. As M. des Grassins had already
called three or four times, Charles vouchsated to hear

212 Eugenie Grandet

him, but it was with bare politeness, and he did not pay
the slightest attention to what the banker said.

' My father's debts are not mine,' he said coolly. ' 1
am obliged to you, sir, for the trouble you have been
good enough to take, but I am none the better for it
that I can see. I have not scraped together a couple of
millions, earned with the sweat of my brow, to fling it
to my father's creditors.'

'But suppose that your father were to be declared
bankrupt in a few days' time ? '

' In a few days' time I shall be the Comte d'A ubrion,
sir J so you can see that it is a matter of entire indiffer-
ence to me. Besides, you know even better than I do
that when a man has a hundred thousand Hvres a year,
his father never has been a bankrupt,' and he poHtely
edged the deputy des Grassins to the door.

-
In the early days of the month of August, in that same
year, Eugenie was sitting on the little bench in the
garden where her cousin had sworn eternal love, and
where she often took breakfast in summer mornings.
The poor girl was almost happy for a few brief moments;
she went over all the great and little events of her love
before those catastrophes that followed. The morning
was fresh and bright, and the garden was full of sunlight ;
her eyes wandered over the wall with its moss and flowers ;
it was full of cracks now, and all but in ruins, but no one
was allowed to touch it, though Cornoiller was always
prophesying to his wife that the whole thing would come
down and crush somebody or other one of these days.
The postman knocked at the door, and gave a letter into
the hands of Mme. Cornoiller, who hurried into the
garden, crying, ' Mademoiselle ! A letter ! Is it the
letter ? ' she added, as she handed it to her mistress.

The words rang through Eugenie's heart as the spoken 1
sounds rang from the ramparts and the old garden
wall.

Eugenic Grandct 213

* Paris ! . • • It is his writing ! Then he has come
back.'

Eugenie's face grew white ; for several seconds she kept
the seal unbroken, for her heart beat so fast that she
could neither move nor see. Big Nanon stood and
waited with both hands on her hips ; joy seemed to
puff" like smoke from every wrinkle in her brown
face.

' Do read it, mademoiselle ! '

' Oh ! why does he come back by way of Paris, Nanon,
when he went by way of Saumur ? '

' Read it ; the letter will tell you why.*

Eugenie's fingers trembled as she opened the envelope;
a cheque on the firm of ' Mme. des Grassins et Corret,
Saumur,' fell out of it and fluttered down. Nanon picked
it up.

* My dear Cousin . . .'

(' I am not " Eugenie " now,' she thought, and her
heart stood still.) *You . . .'

' He used to say thou ! ' She folded her arms and
dreaded to read any further ; great tears gathered in her
eyes.

' What is it ? Is he dead ? ' asked Nanon.

* If he were, he could not write,' said Eugenie, and
she read the letter through. It ran as follows : —

* My dear Cousin, — You will, I am sure, hear with
pleasure of the success of my enterprise. You brought
me luck ; I have come back to France a wealthy man,
as my uncle advised. I have just heard of his death,
together with that of my aunt, from M. des Grassins.
Our parents must die in the course of nature, and we
ourselves must follow them. I hope that by this time
you are consoled for your loss ; time cures all trouble, as
I know by experience. Yes, my dear cousin, the day of
illusions is gone by for me. I am sorry, but it cannot

214 Eugenie Grandet

be helped. I have knocked about the world so much,
and seen so much, that I have been led to reflect on
life. I w^as a child w^hen I went away ; I have come
back a man, and I have many things to think about now
which I did not even dream of then. You are free, my
cousin, and I too am free still ; there is apparently
nothing to hinder the realisation of our youthful hopes,
but I am too straightforward to hide my present situation
from you. I have not for a moment forgotten that I am
bound to you ; through all my wanderings I have always
remembered the little wooden bench — ■ — '

Eugenie started up as if she were sitting on burning
coals, and sat down on one of the broken stone steps in
the yard.

— ' the little wooden bench where we vowed to love each
other for ever ; the passage, the grey parlour, my attic
room, the night when in your thoughtfulness and tact
you made my future easier to me. Yes, these memories
have been my support ; I have said in my heart that you
were always thinking of me when I thought of you at the
hour we had agreed upon. Did you not look out into
the darkness at nine o'clock ? Yes, I am sure you did.
I would not prove false to so sacred a friendship ; I cannot
deal insincerely with you.

'A marriage has been proposed to me, which is in
every way satisfactory to my mind. Love in a marriage
is romantic nonsense. Experience has clearly shown me
that in marrying we must obey social laws and conform
to conventional ideas. There is some difference of age
between you and me, which would perhaps be more
likely to affect your future than mine, and there are
other differences of which I need not speak ; your
bringing up, your ways of life, and your tastes have
not fitted you for Parisian life, nor would they harmonise
with the future which I have marked out for myself.

Eugenie Grandet 215

For instance, it is a part of my plan to maintain a great
household, and to see a good deal of society ; and you,
I am sure, from my recollections of you, would prefer a
quiet, domestic life and home-keeping ways. No, I will
be open with you ; I will abide by your decision ; but
I must first, however, lay all the facts of the case before
you, that you may the better judge.

'I possess at the time of writing an income of eighty
thousand livres. With this fortune I am able to marry
into the d'Aubrion family ; I should take their name on
my marriage with their only daughter, a girl of nineteen,
and secure at the same time a very brilliant position in
society, and the post of gentleman-of-the-bedchamber. I
will assure you at once, my dear cousin, that I have not
the slightest affection for Mile. d'Aubrion, but by this
marriage I shall secure for my children a social rank
which will be of inestimable value in the future. Mon-
archical principles are daily gaining ground. A few years
hence my son, the Marquis d'Aubrion, would have an
entailed estate and a yearly rental of forty thousand
livres ; with such advantages there would be no position
to which he might not aspire. We ought to live for
our children.

' You see, my cousin, how candidly I am laying the state
of my heart, my hopes, and my fortunes before you.
Perhaps after seven years of separation you may yourself
have forgotten our childish love affair, but I have never
forgotten your goodness or my promise. A less con-
scientious, a less upright man, with a heart less youthful
than mine, might scarcely feel himself bound by it ; but
for me a promise, however lightly given, is sacred.
When I tell you plainly that my marriage is solely a
marriage of suitabiHty, and that I have not forgotten the
love of our youthful days, am I not putting myself entirely
into your hands, and making you the arbitress of my
fate ? Is it not implied that if I must renounce my
social ambitions, I shall willingly content myself with

2i6 Eugenie Grandet

the simple and pure happiness which is always called up
by the thought of you . . •

' Tra-la-la-tan-ta-ti ! ' sang Charles Grandet to the air
of Non piu andra'i^ as he signed himself,

Your devoted cousin,

Charles.

* By Jove ! that is acting handsomely,' he said to
himself. He looked about him for the cheque, slipped
it in, and added a postscript.

^ P.S. — I enclose a 'cheque on Mme. des Grassins for
eight thousand francs, payable in gold to your order,
comprising the capital and interest of the sum you were
so kind as to advance me. I am expecting a case from
Bordeaux which contains a few things which you must
allow me to send you as a token of my unceasing
gratitude. You can send my dressing-case by the
diligence to the Hotel d'Aubrion, Rue Hillerin-Bertin.*

' By the diligence ! ' cried Eugenie, ' when I would
have given my hfe for it a thousand times ! '

Terrible and complete shipwreck of hope ; the vessel
had gone down, there was not a spar, not a plank in the
vast ocean. There are women who when their lover
forsakes them will drag him from a rival's arms and
murder her, and fly for refuge to the ends of the earth,
to the scaffold, or the grave. There is a certain
grandeur in this no doubt ; there is something so sub-
lime in the passion of indignation which prompts the
crime, that man's justice is awed into silence ; but there
are other women who suffer and bow their heads.
They go on their way, submissive and broken-hearted,
weeping and forgiving, praying till their last sigh for him
whom they never forget. And this no less is love, love
such as the angels know, loves that bears itself proudly

Eugenie Grandet 217

in anguish, that lives by the secret pain of which it
dies at last. This was to be Eugenie's love now that
she had read that horrible letter. .-^'

She raised her eyes to the sky and thought of her
mother's prophetic words, uttered in the moment of clear
vision that is sometimes given to dying eyes ; and as she
thought of her mother's life and death, it seemed to her
that she was looking out over her own future. There
was nothing left to her now but to live prayerfully till the
day of her deliverance should come and the soul spread
its wings for heaven.

' My mother was right,' she said, weeping. * Suffer— C"
and die.'

She went slowly from the garden into the house,
avoiding the passage ; but when she came into the old
grey parlour, it was full of memories of her cousin. On
the chimney-piece there stood a certain china saucer,
which she used every morning, and the old Sevres sugar
basin.

It was to be a memorable and eventful day for Eugenie.
Nanon announced the cure of the parish church. He
was related to the Cruchots, and therefore in the
interests of the President de Bonfons. For some days
past the Abbe had urged the cure to speak seriously
to Mile. Grandet about the duty of marriage from a
religious point of view for a woman in her position.
Eugenie, seeing her pastor, fancied that he had come
for the thousand francs which she gave him every month
for the poor of his parish, and sent Nanon for the
money; but the curate began with a smile, 'To-day,
mademoiselle, I have come to take counsel with you
about a poor girl in whom all Saumur takes an interest,
and who, through lack of charity to herself, is not living
as a Christian should.*

^ Mon Dieu ! M. le Cure, just now I can think of
nobody but myself, I am very miserable, my only
refuge is in the Church ; her heart is large enough to

2i8 Eugenie Grandet

hold all human sorrows, her love so inexhaustible that we
need never fear to drain it dry.'

' Well, mademoiselle, when we speak of this girl, we
shall speak of you. Listen ! If you would fain work
out your salvation, there are but two ways open to you j
you must either leave the world, or live in the world and
submit to its laws — you must choose between the earthly
and the heavenly vocation.'

' Ah ! your voice speaks to me when I need to hear a
voice. Yes, God has sent you to me. I will bid the world
farewell, and live for God alone, in silence and seclusion.

'But, my daughter, you should think long and prayer-
fully before taking so strong a measure. Marriage is life,
the veil and the convent is death.'

' Yes, death. Ah ! if death would only come quickly,
M. le Cure,' she said, with dreadful eagerness.

* Death ? But you have great obligations to fulfil
towards society, mademoiselle. There is your family of
poor, to whom you give clothes and firing in winter and
work in summer. Your great fortune is a loan, of
which you must give account one day. You have
always looked on it as a sacred trust. It would be selfish
to bury yourself in a convent, and you ought not to live
alone in the world. In the first place, how can you
endure the burden of yonr vast fortune alone ? You
might lose it. You will be involved in endless Htigation ;
you will find yourself in difficulties from which you will
not be able to extricate yourself. Take your pastor's
word, a husband is useful ; you ought not to lose what
God has given into your charge. I speak to you as to a
cherished lamb of my flock. You love God too sincerely
to find hindrances to your salvation in the world ; you
are one of its fairest ornaments, and should remain in it
as an example of holiness.'

At this point Mme. des Grassins was announced.
The banker's wife was smarting under a grievous dis-
appointment, and thirsted for revenge.

Eugenie Grandet 219

* Mademoiselle . . .' she began. ' Oh ! M. Ic Cure is
here. ... I will say no more then. I came to speak
about some matters of business, but I see you are deep in
something else.*

' Madame,' said the cure, ' I leave the field to you,*
' Oh ! M. le Cure, pray come back again ; I stand in
great need of your help just now.'

' Yes, indeed, my poor child ! ' said Mme. des Grassins.

* What do you mean ? ' asked Eugenie and the cure
both together.

' Do you suppose that I haven't heard that your cousin
has come back, and is going to marry Mile. d'Aubrion ?
A woman doesn't go about with her wits in her pocket.'

Eugenie was silent, there was a red flush on her face,
but she made up her mind at once that henceforward no
one should learn anything from her, and looked as im-
penetrable as her father used to do.

' Well, madame,' she said, with a tinge of bitter-
ness in her tones, ' it seems that I, at any rate, carry
my wits in my pocket, for I am quite at a loss to under-
stand you. Speak out and explain yourself; you can
speak freely before M. le Cure, he is my director, as
you know.'

' Well, then, mademoiselle, see for yourself what des
Grassins says. Here is the letter.'

Eugenie read : —

' My dear Wife, — Charles Grandet has returned from
the Indies, and has been in Paris these two months '

* Two months ! ' said Eugenie to herself, and her hand
fell to her side. After a moment she went on reading : —

* I had to dance attendance on him, and called twice
before the future Comte d'Aubrion would condescend to
see me. All Paris is talking about his marriage, and the
banns are published '

220 Eugenic Grandet

' And he wrote to me after that ? ' Eugenie said to
herself. She did not round off the sentence as a Parisienne
would have done, with ' Wretch that he is ! ' but her
scorn was not one whit the less because it was unexpressed.

— * but it will be a good while yet before he marries ; it
is not likely that the Marquis d*Aubrion will give his
daughter to the son of a bankrupt wine merchant. 1
called and told him of all the trouble we had been at,
his uncle and I, in the matter of his father's failure, and
of our clever dodges that had kept the creditors quiet so
far. The insolent puppy had the effrontery to say to
me — to me^ who for live years have toiled day and night
in his interest and to save his credit — that his father's
affairs were not his! A solicitor would have wanted
thirty or forty thousand francs of him in fees at the rate
of one per cent, on the total of the debt ! But, patience !
There is something that he does owe, however, and that
the law shall make him pay, that is to say, twelve hundred
thousand francs to his father's creditors, and I shall declare
his father bankrupt. I mixed myself up in this affair on
the word of that old crocodile of a Grandet, and I have
given promises in the name of the family. M. le Comte
d'Aubrion may not care for his honour, but I care a good
deal for mine ! So I shall just explain my position to
the creditors. Still, I have too much respect for Mile.
Eugenie (with whom, in happier days, we hoped to be
more closely connected) to take any steps before you
have spoken to her '

There Eugenie paused, and quietly returned the letter.

' I am obliged to you,' she said to Mme. des Grassins.
' We shall see '

' Your voice was exactly Hke your father's just then,'
exclaimed Mme. dcs Grassins.

' Madame,' put in Nanon, producing Charles's cheque,
* you have eight thousand francs to pay us.'

Eugenie Grandet 221

* True. Be so good as to come with me, Mme.
Cornoiller.' ^'

' M. le Cure,* said Eugenie, with a noble composure
that came of the thought which prompted her, ' would it
be a sin to remain in a state of virginity after marriage ? '

' It is a case of conscience which I cannot solve. If
you care to know what the celebrated Sanchez says in his
great work, De Matr'tmonio^ I could inform you to-morrow.'

The cure took leave. Mile. Grandet went up to her
father's room and spent the day there by herself; she
would not even come down to dinner, though Nanon
begged and scolded. She appeared in the evening at the
hour when the usual company began to arrive. The
grey parlour in the Grandet's house had never been so
well filled as it was that night. Every soul in the town
knew by that time of Charles's return, and of his faith-
lessness and ingratitude ; but their inquisitive curiosity
was not to be gratified. Eugenie was a little late, but
no one saw any traces of the cruel agitation through
which she had passed ; she could smile benignly in reply
to the compassionate looks and words which some of the
group thought fit to bestow on her ; she bore her pain
behind a mask of politeness.

About nine o'clock the card-players drew away from
the tables, paid their losses, and criticised the game and
the various points that had been made. Just as there was
a general move in the direction of the door, an unex-
pected development took place ; the news of it rang
through Saumur and four prefectures round about for
days after.

' Please stay, M. le President.'

There was not a person in the room who did not thrill
with excitement at the words ; M. de Bonfons, who was
about to take his cane, turned quite white, and sat down
again.

' The President takes the millions,* said Mile, de
Gribeaucourt.

222 Eugenie Grandet

* It is quite clear that President de Bonfons is going to
marry Mile. Grandet,' cried Mme. d'Orsonval.

' The best trick of the game ! * commented the Abbe.

' A very pretty slam^^ said the notary.

Every one said his say and cut his joke, every one
thought of the heiress mounted upon her millions as if
she w^ere on a pedestal. Here was the catastrophe of the
drama, begun nine years ago, taking place under their
eyes. To tell the President in the face of all Saumur to
' stay ' was as good as announcing at once that she meant
to take the magistrate for her husband. Social con-
ventionalities are rigidly observed in Httle country towns,
and such an infraction as this was looked upon as a
binding promise.

' M. le President,' Eugenie began in an unsteady
voice, as soon as they were alone, ' I know what you care
about in me. Swear to leave me free till the end of my
life, to claim none of the rights which marriage will give
you over me, and my hand is yours. Oh ! ' she said,
seeing him about to fall on his knees, ' I have not finished
yet. I must tell you frankly that there are memories in
my heart which can never be effaced ; that friendship is
all that I can give my husband ; I wish neither to
affront him nor to be disloyal to my own heart. But
you shall only have my hand and fortune at the price of
an immense service which I want you to do me.'

' Anything, I will do anything,' said the president.

* Here are fifteen hundred thousand francs, M. le
President,' she said, drawing from her bodice a certificate
for a hundred shares in the Bank of France ; ' will you set
out for Paris ? You must not even wait till the morning,
but go at once, to-night. You must go straight to M.
des Grassins, ask him for a list of my uncle's creditors,
call them together, and discharge all outstanding claims
upon Guillaume Grandet's estate. Let the creditors have
capital and interest at five per cent, from the day the
debts were contracted to the present time ; and see that

Eugenie Grandet 223

in every case a receipt in full is given, and that it is
made out in proper form. You are a magistrate, you are
the only person w^hom I feel that I can trust in such a
case. You are a gentleman and a man of honour ; you
have given me your word, and, protected by your name,
I will make the perilous voyage of life. We shall know
how to make allowances for each other, for we have been
acquainted for so long that it is almost as if we were
related, and I am sure you would not wish to make me
unhappy.'

The president fell on his knees at the feet of the rich
heiress in a paroxysm of joy.

' I will be your slave ! ' he said.

'When all the receipts are in your possession, sir,' she
went on, looking quietly at him, 'you must take them,
together with the bills, to my cousin Grandet, and give
them to him with this letter. When you come back, I
will keep my word.'

The president understood the state of afFairs perfectly
well. ' She is accepting me out of pique,' he thought,
and he hastened to do Mile. Grandet's bidding with all
possible speed, for fear some chance might bring about a
reconciliation between the lovers.

As soon as M. de Bonfons left her, Eugenie sank into
her chair and burst into tears. All was over, and this
was the end.

The president travelled post to Paris and reached his
journey's end on the following evening. The next
morning he went to des Grassins, and arranged for a
meeting of the creditors in the office of the notary with
whom the bills had been deposited. Every man of them
appeared, every man of them was punctual to a moment
— one should give even creditors their dues.

M. de Bonfons, in Mile. Grandet's name, paid down
the money in full, both capital and interest. They were
paid interest ! It was an amazing portent, a nine days'
wonder in the business world of Paris. After the whole

^4

224 ^ "^ ^ Eugenie Grandct

affair had been wound up, and when, by Eugenie's desire^
des Grassins had received fifty thousand francs for
his services, the president betook himself to the Hotel
d'Aubrion, and was lucky enough to find Charles at home,
and in disgrace with his future father-in-law. The old
Marquis had just informed that gentleman that until
Guillaume Grandet's creditors were satisfied, a marriage
with his daughter was not to be thought of.

To Charles, thus despondent, the president delivered
the following letter :—

'Dear Cousin, — M. le President de Bonfons has
undertaken to hand you a discharge of all claims against
my uncle's estate, and to deliver it in person, together
with this letter, so that I may know that it is safely in
your hands. I heard rumours of bankruptcy, and it
occurred to me that difficulties might possibly arise as a
consequence in the matter of your marriage with Mile.
d'Aubrion. Yes, cousin, you are quite right about my
tastes and manners ; I have lived, as you say, so entirely
out of the world, that I know nothing of its ways or its
calculations, and my companionship could never make up
to you for the loss of the pleasures that you look to find
in society. I hope that you will be happy according to
the social conventions to which you have sacrificed our
early love. The only thing in my power to give you
to complete your happiness is your father's good name.
Farewell j you will always find a faithful friend in your
cousin, Eugenie.'

In spite of himself an exclamation broke from the man
of social ambitions when his eyes fell on the discharge
and receipts. The president smiled.

' We can each announce our marriage,' said he.

'Oh ! you are to marry Eugenie, are you ? Well, I
am glad to hear it ; she is a kind-hearted girl. Why ! '
struck with a sudden luminous idea, ' she must be rich ? '

Eugenie Grandct 225

*Four days ago she had about nineteen millions,' the
president said, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes ,

* to-day she has only seventeen.'

Charles was dumbfounded ; he stared at the president.

'Seventeen mil '

'Seventeen millions. Yes, sir; when we are married,
Mile. Grandet and I shall muster seven hundred and
fifty thousand livres a year between us.'

'My dear cousin,' said Charles, with some return of
assurance, *we shall be able to push each other's for-
tunes.'

' Certainly,' said the president. ' There is something
else here,' he added, 'a little case that I was to give only
into your hands,' and he set down a box containing the
dressing-case upon the table.

The door opened, and in came Mme. la Marquise
d'Aubrion ; the great lady seemed to be unaware of
Cruchot's existence. ' Look here ! dear,' she said, ' never
mind what that absurd M. d'Aubrion has been saying to
you ; the Duchesse de Chaulieu has quite turned his
head. I repeat it, there is nothing to prevent your
marriage '

'Nothing, madame,' answered Charles. 'The three
millions which my father owed were paid yesterday.'

' In money ? * she asked.

* In full, capital and interest ; I mean to rehabilitate
his memory.'

'What nonsense ! ' cried his mother-in-law. ' Who is
this person .? ' she asked in Charles's ear, as she saw
Cruchot for the first time.

'My man of business,' he answered in a low voice.
The Marquise gave M. de Bonfons a disdainful bow, and
left the room.

'We are beginning to push each other's fortunes
already,' said the president drily, as he took up his hat.

* Good day, cousin.*

' The old cockatoo from Saumur is laughing at me ; 1

p

226 Eugenie Grandet

have a great mind to make him swallow six inches oi
cold steel,' thought Charles.

But the president had departed.

Three days later M. de Bonfons was back in Saumur
again, and announced his marriage with Eugenie. After
about six months he received his appointment as
Councillor to the Court-Royal at Angers, and they went
thither. But before Eugenie left Saumur she melted
down the trinkets that had long been so sacred and so dear
a trust, and gave them, together with the eight thousand
francs which her cousin had returned to her, to make a
reredos for the altar in the parish church whither she had
gone so often to pray to God for him. Henceforward
her life was spent partly at Angers, partly at Saumur.
Her husband's devotion to the government at a political
crisis was rewarded ; he was made President of the
Chamber, and finally First President. Then he awaited
a general election with impatience ; he had visions of a
place in the government ; he had dreams of a peerage ;
and then, and then . . .

' Then he would call cousins with the king, I suppose ? '
said Nanon, big Nanon, Mme. Cornoiller, wife of a
burgess of Saumur, when her mistress told her of these
lofty ambitions and high destinies.

Yet, after all, none of these ambitious dreams were to
be realised, and the name of M. de Bonfons (he had
finally dropped the patronymic Cruchot) was to undergo
no further transformation. He died only eight days after
his appointment as deputy of Saumur. God, who sees
all hearts, and who never strikes without cause, punished
him, doubtless, for his presumptuous schemes, and for
the lawyer's cunning with which, accurante Cruchot^
he had drafted his own marriage contract ; in which
husband and wife, in case there was no issue of the marriage ^
bequeathed to each other all their property^ both real estate
and personalty ^without exception or reservation^ dispensing

Eugenie Grandet 227

ruen Vjith the formality of an inventory^ provided that the
omission of the said inventory should not injure their heirs
and assigns^ it being understood that this deed of gift ^ etc.
etc, a clause which may throw some light on the pro-
found respect which the president constantly showed for
his wife's desire to live apart. Women cited M. le
Premier President as one of the most delicately con-
siderate of men, and pitied him, and often went so far as
to blame Eugenie for clinging to her passion and her
sorrow ; mingling, according to their wont, cruel insinua-
tions with their criticisms of the president's wife.

' If Mme. de Bonfons lives apart from her husband,
she must be in very bad health, poor thing. Is she likely
to recover ? What can be the matter with her ? Is it
cancer or gastritis, or what is it ? Why does she not go
to Paris and see some specialist ? She has looked very
sallow for a long time past. How can she not wish to
have a child ? They say she is very fond of her husband ;
why not give him an heir in his position ? Do you
know, it is really dreadful ! If it is only some notion
which she has taken into her head, it is unpardonable.
Poor president !*

There is a certain keen insight and quick apprehensive-
ness that is the gift of a lonely and meditative life — and
loneliness, and sorrow, and the discipline of the last few
years had given Eugenie this clairvoyance of the narrow
lot. She knew within herself that the president was
anxious for her death that he might be the sole possessor
of the colossal fortune, now still further increased by the
deaths of the abbe and the notary, whom Providence had
lately seen fit to promote from works to rewards. The
poor solitary woman understood and pitied the president.
Unworthy hopes and selfish calculations were his strongest
motives for respecting Eugenie's hopeless passion. To
give life to a child would be death to the egoistical dreams
and ambitions that the president hugged within himself;
ivas it for all these things that his career was cut short ?

228 Eugenie Grandet

while she must remain in her prison house, and the
coveted gold for which she cared so little was to be
heaped upon her. It was she who was to live, with the
thought of heaven always before her, and holy thoughts
for her companions, to give help and comfort secretly to
Athose who were in distress. Mme. de Bonfons was left
\ a widow three years after her marriage, with an income
of eight hundred thousand livres.

She is beautiful still, with the beauty of a woman
who is nearly forty years of age. Her face is very pale
and quiet now, and there is a tinge of sadness in the
low tones of her voice. She has simple manners, all the
dignity of one who has passed through great sorrows,
and the saintliness of a soul unspotted by the world ; and,
no less, the rigidness of an old maid, the little penurious
ways and narrow ideas of a dull country town.

Although she has eight hundred thousand Hvres a
year, she lives just as she used to do in the days of
^^stinted allowances of fuel and food while she was still
Eugenie Grandet ; the fire is never lighted in the parlour
before or after the dates fixed by her father, all the
regulations in force in the days of her girlhood are
still adhered to. She dresses as her mother did. That
cold, sunless, dreary house, always overshadowed by the
dark ramparts, is like her own life.

She looks carefully after her affairs ; her wealth
accumulates from year to year ; perhaps she might even
be called parsimonious, if it were not for the noble use
she makes of her fortune. Various pious and charitable
institutions, almshouses, and orphan asylums, a richly
endowed public library, and donations to various churches
in Saumur, are a sufficient answer to the "charge of
avarice which some few people have brought against
her,
\ They sometimes speak of her in joke as mademoiselle^
but, in fact, people stand somewhat in awe of Mme. de
Bonfons. It was as if she, whose heart went out so readily

Eugenie Grandet ^29

to others, was always to be the victim of their interested
calculations, and to be cut off from them by a barrier of
distrust ; as if for all warmth and brightness in her life
she was to find only the pale glitter of metal.

' No one loves me but you/ she would sometimes say
to Nanon.

Yet her hands are always ready to bind the wounds
ihat other eyes do not see, in any house ; and her way
to heaven is one long succession of kindness and good
deeds. The real greatness of her soul has risen above
the cramping influences of her early Hfe. And this is
the life history of a woman who dwells in the world, yet
is not of it, a woman so grandly fitted to be a wife and
mother, but who has neither husband nor children nor
kindred

Of late the good folk of Saumur have begun to talk of
a second marriage for her. Rumour is busy with her
name and that of the Marquis de Froidfond ; indeed^
his family have begun to surround the rich widow, just
as the Cruchots once flocked about Eugenie Grandet.
Nanon and Cornoiller, so it is said, are in the interest
of the Marquis, but nothing could be more false ; for
big Nanon and Cornoiller have neither of them wit
enough to understand the corruptions of the world.

THE TEMPLE PRESS, PRINTERS, LETCHWORTH

*m«N TO dJk^^ use

WAN IWT '°^-'

LiD2lA-i0m-« "79
tl902si0)4?6il^3l

ITn.v^"*^'^ Library

r

GENtHAL LlbMAMT - U.U. Dcni\CLi:i

BD0D773E1b

^- li

^ f

IBiff^^'" .■■,,.

'".* '

r>

..I'M**-'

,,-«.>. i-.-d

PWI

.;',.'i^.' '•■;*♦.

iv^t»»-= r ■•«'

'TJS^^l

^^.,-;;Ki

L-n^iXc

,.„.,. iw«.»'»?ry>;n-

jccn;

r. * wIJv^^

7i]»r»i> .K,.(iji»^:.r»:.

► . . , • I-IM«« ,*•♦*•««<■■ ■

*.■■■■.

.'' .'/"Jli.ic^^Mi^^'

srr ■'..••

, .'-*"?t , .

■ ':•'* •■■

r.-:,; r

■;::r/;.'i;;

•Hit ,.-

Tja^i^'ini^'i^. t^.

'*4^. •fl»^v»-»*' »' '"»