Joseph Bridau looked for a few seconds at the one-armed officer, and then said:
“Monsieur is not an ambassador, but his rosette shows that he has risen in the world; and nobly too, for my brother and General Giroudeau have often mentioned you in their despatches—”
“Oscar Husson!” exclaimed Georges. “On my honor, but for your voice, I should never have recognized you.”
“Ah! is this the gentleman who so bravely carried off the Vicomte Jules de Sérizy from the Arabs?” asked Reybert, “and to whom Monsieur le Comte has given the collectorship at Beaumont pending his appointment to Pontoise?”
“Yes, monsieur,” said Oscar.
“Well, then,” said the painter, “I hope, monsieur, that you will do me the pleasure of being present at my marriage, at l’Isle-Adam.”
“Whom are you marrying?” asked Oscar.
“Mademoiselle Léger, Monsieur de Reybert’s granddaughter. Monsieur le Comte de Sérizy was good enough to arrange the matter for me. I owe him much as an artist, and he was anxious to establish my fortune before his death—I had scarcely thought of it—”
“Then Père Léger married?” said Georges.
“My daughter,” said Monsieur de Reybert, “and without any money.”
“And he has children?”
“One daughter. Quite enough for a widower who had no other children,” said Père Léger. “And, like my partner Moreau, I shall have a famous man for my son-in-law.”
“So you still live at l’Isle-Adam?” said Georges to Monsieur Léger, almost respectfully.
“Yes; I purchased Cassan.”
“Well, I am happy in having chosen this particular day for doing the Oise Valley,” said Georges, “for you may do me a service, gentlemen.”
“In what way?” asked Léger.
“Well, thus,” said Georges. “I am employed by the Society of l’Espérance, which has just been incorporated, and its bylaws approved by letters patent from the King. This institution is, in ten years, to give marriage portions to girls, and annuities to old people; it will pay for the education of children; in short, it takes care of everybody—”
“So I should think!” said old Léger, laughing. “In short, you are an insurance agent.”
“No, monsieur, I am Inspector-General, instructed to establish agencies and correspondents with the Company throughout France; I am acting only till the agents are appointed; for it is a delicate and difficult matter to find honest men—”
“But how did you lose your thirty thousand francs a year?” asked Oscar.
“As you lost your arm!” the ex-notary’s clerk replied sharply to the ex-attorney’s clerk.
“Then you invested your fortune in some brilliant deed?” said Oscar, with somewhat bitter irony.
“By Jupiter! my investments are a sore subject. I have more deeds than enough.”
They had reached Saint-Leu-Taverny, where the travelers got out while they changed horses. Oscar admired the briskness with which Pierrotin unbuckled the straps of the swing-bar, while his driver took out the leaders.
Poor Pierrotin!
thought he. Like me, he has not risen much in life. Georges has sunk into poverty. All the others, by speculation and skill, have made fortunes.
“Do we breakfast here, Pierrotin?” he asked, clapping the man on the shoulder.
“I am not the driver,” said Pierrotin.
“What are you, then?” asked Colonel Husson.
“I am the owner,” replied Pierrotin.
“Well, well, do not quarrel with an old friend,” said Oscar, pointing to his mother, but still with a patronizing air; “do you not remember Madame Clapart?”
It was the more graceful of Oscar to name his mother to Pierrotin, because at this moment Madame Moreau (de l’Oise) had got out of the coupé and looked scornfully at Oscar and his mother as she heard the name.
“On my honor, madame, I should never have known you; nor you either, monsieur. You get it hot in Africa, it would seem?”
The disdainful pity Oscar had felt for Pierrotin was the last blunder into which vanity betrayed the hero of this Scene; and for that he was punished, though not too severely. On this wise: Two months after he had settled at Beaumont-sur-Oise, Oscar paid his court to Mademoiselle Georgette Pierrotin, whose fortune amounted to a hundred and fifty thousand francs, and by the end of the winter of 1838 he married the daughter of the owner of the Oise Valley coach service.
The results of the journey to Presles had given Oscar discretion, the evening at Florentine’s had disciplined his honesty, the hardships of a military life had taught him the value of social distinctions and submission to fate. He was prudent, capable, and consequently happy. The Comte de Sérizy, before his death, obtained for Oscar the place of Revenue Collector at Pontoise. The influence of Monsieur Moreau (de l’Oise), of the Comtesse de Sérizy, and of Monsieur le Baron de Canalis, who, sooner or later, will again have a seat in the Ministry, will secure Monsieur Husson’s promotion to the post of Receiver-General, and the Camusots now recognize him as a relation.
Oscar is a commonplace man, gentle, unpretentious, and modest; faithful—like the Government he serves—to the happy medium in all things. He invites neither envy nor scorn. In short, he is the modern French citizen.
Endnotes
-
To translate these not always funny jests is impossible. I have generally tried for no more than an equivalent rendering. —Translator ↩
Colophon
A Start in Life
was published in 1845 by
Honoré de Balzac.
It was translated from French in 1901 by
Clara Bell.
This ebook was produced for
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Vince Rice,
and is based on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.
The cover page is adapted from
Portrait of Charles Pemberton,
a painting completed between 1800 and 1850 by
Anonymous.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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