“My whole life here is planned out like a sovereign’s. A bell is rung for my lunch and dinner as at your castle. I never miss going to the Bois at a certain hour, accompanied by two footmen in full livery, and returning at a fixed time. In place of giving orders, I receive them. At balls and the theatre, a lackey comes up to me saying, ‘Your carriage waits, madame,’ and I have to go, whether I am enjoying myself or not. Ferdinand would be vexed if I did not carry out the code of rules drawn up for his wife, and I am afraid of him. Surrounded by all this hateful splendor, I sometimes look back with regret, and begin to think we had a kind mother. At least she left us our nights, and I had you to talk to. In my sufferings, then, I had a loving companion, but this gorgeous house is a desert to me.”
It was for the Countess now to play the comforter. As this tale of misery fell from her sister’s lips she took her hand and kissed it with tears.
“How is it possible for me to help you?” Eugénie went on in a low voice. “If he were to find us together he would suspect something. He would want to know what we had been talking about this hour, and it is not easy to put off the scent anyone so false and full of wiles. He would be sure to lay a trap for me. But enough of my troubles; let us think of you. Your forty thousand francs, darling, would be nothing to Ferdinand. He and the Baron de Nucingen, another of these rich bankers, are accustomed to handle millions. Sometimes at dinner I hear them talking of things to make your flesh creep. Du Tillet knows I am no talker, so they speak freely before me, confident that it will go no further, and I can assure you that highway murder would be an act of mercy compared to some of their financial schemes. Nucingen and he make as little of ruining a man as I do of all their display. Among the people who come to see me, often there are poor dupes whose affairs I have heard settled overnight, and who are plunging into speculations which will beggar them. How I long to act Leonarde in the brigands’ cave, and cry, ‘Beware!’ But what would become of me? I hold my tongue, but this luxurious mansion is nothing but a den of cutthroats. And du Tillet and Nucingen scatter banknotes in handfuls for any whim that takes their fancy. Ferdinand has bought the site of the old castle at Tillet, and intends rebuilding it, and then adding a forest and magnificent grounds. He says his son will be a count and his grandson a peer. Nucingen is tired of his house in the Hue Saint-Lazare and is having a palace built. His wife is a friend of mine. … Ah!” she cried, “she might be of use to us. She is not in awe of her husband, her property is in her own hands; she is the person to save you.”
“Darling,” cried Mme. de Vandenesse, throwing herself into her sister’s arms and bursting into tears, “there are only a few hours left. Let us go there tonight, this very instant.”
“How can I go out at eleven o’clock at night?”
“My carriage is here.”
“Well, what are you two plotting here?” It was du Tillet who threw open the door of the boudoir.
A false geniality lit up the blank countenance which met the sisters’ gaze. They had been too much absorbed in talking to notice the wheels of du Tillet’s carriage, and the thick carpets had muffled the sound of his steps. The Countess, who had an indulgent husband and was well used to society, had acquired a tact and address such as her sister, passing straight from a mother’s to a husband’s yoke, had had no opportunity of cultivating. She was able then to save the situation, which she saw that Eugénie’s terror was on the point of betraying, by a frank reply.
“I thought my sister wealthier than she is,” she said, looking her brother-in-law in the face. “Women sometimes get into difficulties which they don’t care to speak of to their husbands—witness Napoleon and Joséphine—and I came to ask a favor of her.”
“There will be no difficulty about that. Eugénie is a rich woman,” replied du Tillet, in a tone of honeyed acerbity.
“Only for you,” said the Countess, with a bitter smile.
“How much do you want?” said du Tillet, who was not sorry at the prospect of getting his sister-in-law into his toils.
“How dense you are! Didn’t I tell you that we want to keep our husbands out of this?” was the prudent reply of Mme. de Vandenesse, who feared to place herself at the mercy of the man whose character had by good luck just been sketched by her sister. “I shall come and see Eugénie tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? No,” said the banker coldly. “Mme. du Tillet dines tomorrow with a future peer of the realm, Baron
