“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 leveled 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 Eugénie; “is there any harm in asking to see it?”
Charles took off the ring and held it out; Eugénie reddened as her cousin’s rose-pink nails came in contact with her fingertips.
“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 cafétiere à la Chaptal.” Forthwith he endeavored 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’ll 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 Eugénie.
“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 Eugénie.
“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 Eugénie. “It is a nice name.”
Evil forebodings are seldom vain.
Just at that moment Mme. Grandet, Eugénie, and Nanon, who could not think of the cooper’s return without shuddering, heard the familiar knock at the door.
“That is papa!” cried Eugénie.
She took away the saucer full of sugar, leaving one or two lumps on the tablecloth. Nanon hurried away with the eggcups. 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 Eugénie.
“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 fête for your nephew. Good, very good, oh! very good, indeed!” he said, without stammering. “When the cat is away, the mice may play.”
“Fête?” thought Charles, who had not the remotest conception of the state of affairs in the Grandet household.
“Bring me my glass, Nanon,” said the goodman.
Eugénie 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; this called Grandet’s attention to the pieces of sugar on the table; he looked hard at his wife, who turned pale, and came a step or two towards him; 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.”
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 inquired.
“The sugar.”
“Pour in some more milk if your coffee is too strong,” answered the master of the house.
Eugénie 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 Eugénie 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 bondslave went to the table, cut a piece of bread in fear and trembling, and took a pear. Eugénie, 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 as you have finished we will take a turn in the garden together; I have some things
