Honoré de Balzac

“ The Rabouilleuse showed the most servile attentions and the utmost tenderness to her master; fancied his head was too low, beat up the pillows, and took care of him like a bride of yesterday. The poor creature received it with a rush of feeling.
“We owe you much gratitude, mademoiselle,” said Agathe, “for the proofs of attachment you have so long given to my brother, and for the way in which you watch over his happiness.”
“That is true, my dear Agathe,” said the old man; “she has taught me what happiness is; she is a woman of excellent qualities.” ”

“ Innocent or guilty, we must protect you against the tumult raised by the murder of Captain Gilet. And the crowd is not satisfied with suspecting you; they declare, hard as iron, that you are the murderer. Monsieur Gilet is adored by all the people, who—look at them!—want to take justice into their own hands. Ah! didn’t we see them, in 1830, dusting the jackets of the tax-gatherers? whose life isn’t a bed of roses, anyway!”
Joseph Bridau grew pale as death, and collected all his strength to walk onward. ”

“ Fario came down to gloat over the sight of his enemy in the convulsions of death; for the muscles of a man of Maxence Gilet’s vigor quiver horribly. Philippe was carried back to his uncle’s house.
Thus perished a man destined to do great deeds had he lived his life amid environments which were suited to him; a man treated by Nature as a favorite child, for she gave him courage, self-possession, and the political sagacity of a Cesar Borgia. But education had not bestowed upon him that nobility of conduct and ideas without which nothing great is possible in any walk of life. ”

“ Philippe has had such misfortunes! he has had so little chance to be happy and loved that we ought not to be surprised at his passion for that creature. All passions lead to excess. My own life is not without reproach of that kind, and yet I call myself an honest woman. A single fault is not vice; and after all, it is only those who do nothing that are never deceived.”
Agathe’s despair overcame her so much that Joseph and the Descoings were obliged to lessen Philippe’s wrong-doings by assuring her that such things happened in all families. ”

“ She began to fear death. Without knowing how Philippe might manage to kill her, she felt certain that whenever he suspected her of pregnancy her doom would be sealed. The sound of that voice, the veiled glitter of that gambler’s eye, the slightest movement of the soldier, who treated her with a brutality that was still polite, made her shudder. As to the power of attorney demanded by the ferocious colonel, who in the eyes of all Issoudun was a hero, he had it as soon as he wanted it; for Flore fell under the man’s dominion as France had fallen under that of Napoleon. ”

“ Joseph seized his mother’s candlestick, rushed up to his studio, and came down with three hundred francs.
“Here, Madame Descoings!” he cried, giving her his little store, “it is no business of ours what you do with your money; we owe you what you have lost, and here it is, almost in full.”
“Take your poor little all?—the fruit of those privations that have made me so unhappy! are you mad, Joseph?” cried the old woman, visibly torn between her dogged faith in the coming trey, and the sacrilege of accepting such a sacrifice. ”

“ Conscious of the wisdom of that advice, Agathe went with her son the next morning, at six o’clock, to find Desroches at his house in the rue de Bussy. The lawyer, as cold and stern as his late father, with a sharp voice, a rough skin, implacable eyes, and the visage of a fox as he licks his lips of the blood of chickens, bounded like a tiger when he heard of Giroudeau’s visit and proposal.
“And pray, mere Bridau,” he cried, in his little cracked voice, “how long are you going to be duped by your cursed brigand of a son? Don’t give him a farthing. Make yourself easy, I’ll answer for Philippe. ”

“ The shrewd sense of an artist led him to conceal the profits he was beginning to lay by from his mother and Madame Descoings, aware that each had her road to ruin,—the one in Philippe, the other in the lottery. This astuteness is seldom wanting among painters; busy for days together in the solitude of their studios, engaged in work which, up to a certain point, leaves the mind free, they are in some respects like women,—their thoughts turn about the little events of life, and they contrive to get at their hidden meaning. ”

“ Max would certainly have made a good general of division; he had shoulders that were worth a fortune to a marshal of France, and a breast broad enough to wear all the orders of Europe. Every movement betrayed intelligence; born with grace and charm, like nearly all the children of love, the noble blood of his real father came out in him.
“Don’t you know, Max,” cried the son of a former surgeon-major named Goddet—now the best doctor in the town—from the other end of the table, “that Madame Hochon’s goddaughter is the sister of Rouget? ”

“ Monsieur Hochon firmly believes that Philippe has a noble destiny before him.”
“Oh! if he chooses to apply his perverted powers to making his fortune, I have no doubt he will succeed: he is capable of everything; and such fellows go fast and far,” said Desroches.
“Why do you suppose that he will not succeed by honest means?” demanded Madame Bridau.
“You will see!” exclaimed Desroches. “Fortunate or unfortunate, Philippe will remain the man of the rue Mazarin, the murderer of Madame Descoings, the domestic thief. But don’t worry yourself; he will manage to appear honest to the world.” ”

“ Agathe rushed in; from one exclamation to another the mother gathered the fatal truth.
“He! to fail in honor! the son of Bridau to take the money that was trusted to him!”
The widow trembled in every limb; her eyes dilated and then grew fixed; she sat down and burst into tears.
“Where is he?” she cried amid the sobs. “Perhaps he has flung himself into the Seine.”
“You must not give up all hope,” said Madame Descoings, “because a poor lad has met with a bad woman who has led him to do wrong. Dear me! we see that every day. ”

“ Though Joseph, who remembered Flore in all her beauty, expected to see some frightful change, he was not prepared for the hideous spectacle which now smote his artist’s eye. In a room with bare, unpapered walls, under the sharp pitch of an attic roof, on a cot whose scanty mattress was filled, perhaps, with refuse cotton, a woman lay, green as a body that has been drowned two days, thin as a consumptive an hour before death. ”

“ He read a great deal, and gave himself that deep and serious education which only comes through the mind itself, and which all men of talent strive after between the ages of twenty and thirty. Agathe, seeing very little of Joseph, and feeling no uneasiness about him, lived only for Philippe, who gave her the alternations of fears excited and terrors allayed, which seem the life, as it were, of sentiment, and to be as necessary to maternity as to love. Desroches, who came once a week to see the widow of his patron and friend, gave her hopes. ”

“ Driven by the irresistible necessity of having his evening stake of ten francs, he plundered the household, and laid hands on his brother’s money and on all that Madame Descoings or Agathe left about. Already the poor mother had had a dreadful vision in her first sleep: Philippe entered the room and took from the pockets of her gown all the money he could find. Agathe pretended to sleep, but she passed the rest of the night in tears. She saw the truth only too clearly. “One wrong act is not a vice,” Madame Descoings had declared; but after so many repetitions, vice was unmistakable. ”

“ To make him breakfast alone was the punishment he dreaded most; he loved to talk to her as he ate his meals. When he got to the foot of the staircase he was taken with a fit of coughing; for emotion excited his catarrh.
“Cough away!” said Flore in the kitchen, without caring whether he heard her or not. “Confound the old wretch! he is able enough to get over it without bothering others. If he coughs up his soul, it will only be after—”
Such were the amenities the Rabouilleuse addressed to Rouget when she was angry. ”

“ Her portrait, still to be seen in the atelier of Bridau, shows a perfect oval and a clear whiteness of complexion, without the faintest tinge of color, in spite of her golden hair. More than one artist, looking at the pure brow, the discreet, composed mouth, the delicate nose, the small ears, the long lashes, and the dark-blue eyes filled with tenderness,—in short, at the whole countenance expressive of placidity,—has asked the great artist, “Is that a copy of a Raphael?” No man ever acted under a truer inspiration than the minister’s secretary when he married this young girl. ”

“ Such a system of life carries a man a long way. It was only in appearance that Colonel Philippe retained the frankness, plain-dealing, and easy-going freedom of a soldier. This made him, in reality, very dangerous; he seemed as guileless as a child, but, thinking only of himself, he never did anything without reflecting what he had better do,—like a wily lawyer planning some trick “a la Maitre Gonin”; words cost him nothing, and he said as many as he could to get people to believe. ”

“ The stillness was so profound that the buzzing of a fly could have been heard if there had been one.
“The police were sufficiently afraid of me,” resumed Philippe, “to send me to Issoudun,—a place where I have had the pleasure of meeting old comrades, but where, it must be owned, there is a dearth of amusement. For a man who doesn’t despise folly, I’m rather restricted. However, it is certainly economical, for I am not one of those to whom feather-beds give incomes; Mariette of the Grand Opera cost me fabulous sums.” ”

“ During the two weeks’ struggle between life and death, there glowed such love in every look and gesture and impulse of the soul of the pious creature, that each effusion of her feelings seemed like the expression of a lifetime. The mother thought only of her son; she herself counted for nothing; sustained by love, she was unaware of her sufferings. D’Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, Pierre Grassou, and Bianchon often kept Joseph company, and she heard them talking art in a low voice in a corner of her room. ”

“ On the evening of that sad day Agathe refused to play at cards, and sat on her sofa plunged in such grief that the tears stood in her handsome eyes.
“What is the matter, Madame Bridau?” asked old Claparon.
“She thinks her boy will have to beg his bread because he has got the bump of painting,” said Madame Descoings; “but, for my part, I am not the least uneasy about the future of my step-son, little Bixiou, who has a passion for drawing. Men are born to get on.” ”

“ She has that celestial look poor Coralie used to have; she can weep,—the tones of her voice will draw a thousand-franc note from a granite heart; and the young mischief soaks up champagne better than any of us. It is a precious discovery; she is under obligations to Mariette, and wants to pay them off. After squandering the fortunes of two Englishmen, a Russian, and an Italian prince, Mademoiselle Esther is now in poverty; give her ten thousand francs, that will satisfy her. She has just remarked, laughing, that she has never yet fricasseed a bourgeois, and it will get her hand in. ”

“ When Joseph related Philippe’s position to his mother, on their way to dinner in the rue de Beaune, he felt her arm tremble in his, and joy lighted up her worn face; the poor soul breathed like one relieved of a heavy weight. The next day, inspired by joy and gratitude, she paid Joseph a number of little attentions; she decorated his studio with flowers, and bought him two stands of plants. On the first Sunday when Philippe was to sit, Agathe arranged a charming breakfast in the studio. ”

“ I am anxious to study this precious little drama, for I am determined to avenge Joseph here. Alas, friends,” he added, in a tone which left his three companions in doubt whether he was jesting or speaking seriously, “give a man over to a vice and you’ll get rid of him. Didn’t Hugo say: ‘She loved a ball, and died of it’? So it is. My grandmother loved the lottery. Old Rouget loved a loose life, and Lolotte killed him. Madame Bridau, poor woman, loved Philippe, and perished of it. Vice! vice! my dear friends, do you want to know what vice is? It is the Bonneau of death.” ”

“ You have fallen into the pit which you dug for yourself; we fail ever on the side we have ourselves weakened. You gave your heart to an unnatural son, in whom you made your glory, and you have misunderstood the child who is your true glory. You have been so deeply unjust that you never even saw the striking contrast between the brothers. You owe the comfort of your life to Joseph, while your other son has pillaged you repeatedly. The poor son, who loves you with no return of equal tenderness, gives you all the comfort that your life has had ”

“ I shall know that the town of Issoudun tells the truth, when it declares you are under the dominion of Mademoiselle Flore Brazier. That my uncle should love you, is all very well,” he resumed, holding Flore with a fixed eye; “that you should not love my uncle is also on the cards; but when it comes to your making him unhappy—halt! If people want to get hold of an inheritance, they must earn it. Are you coming, uncle?”
Philippe saw the eyes of the poor imbecile roving from himself to Flore, in painful hesitation. ”

“ Philippe’s patronizing manners would have wounded any one less carelessly indifferent than the artist, who had, moreover, a firm belief in the goodness of heart which soldiers hid, he thought, beneath a brutal exterior. Joseph did not yet know, poor boy, that soldiers of genius are as gentle and courteous in manner as other superior men in any walk of life. All genius is alike, wherever found. ”

“ I have just placed my boy as under-clerk to a lawyer; he gets twenty-five francs a month and his breakfast. I give him as much more, and he dines and sleeps at home. That’s all he gets; he must manage for himself, but he’ll make his way. I keep the fellow harder at work than if he were at school, and some day he will be a barrister. When I give him money to go to the theatre, he is as happy as a king and kisses me. Oh, I keep a tight hand on him, and he renders me an account of all he spends. You are too good to your children, Madame Bridau ”

“ Flore Brazier required her master and Vedie and Kouski and Max to call her Madame.
“She seems to have heard something about you which isn’t to your credit,” answered Vedie, assuming an air of deep concern. “You are doing wrong, monsieur. I’m only a poor servant-woman, and you may say I have no right to poke my nose into your affairs; but I do say you may search through all the women in the world, like that king in holy Scripture, and you won’t find the equal of Madame. You ought to kiss the ground she steps on. Goodness! if you make her unhappy, you’ll only spoil your own life. ”

“ She is all that an artist’s wife should be; she sees to everything; she takes care of my material wants without ever troubling or worrying me.’”
“No, Joseph, no; you have loved me, but I have not returned you love for love. Ah! would that I could live a little longer—Give me your hand.”
Agathe took her son’s hand, kissed it, held it on her heart, and looked in his face a long time,—letting him see the azure of her eyes resplendent with a tenderness she had hitherto bestowed on Philippe only. ”