“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 like 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, Eugénie 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; everyone fell to praising his scrupulous integrity, 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 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 police if 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, rummaging, 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 Eugénie heard a sound like the groan of a dying man; 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 herself. 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 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; we must be in Angers before nine o’clock.”
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 or of 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
