“Mademoiselle, your father wants neither to divide nor to sell his property, nor to pay a heavy succession duty upon the ready money he may happen to have just now. So if these complications are to be avoided, there must be no inventory made out, and all the property must remain undivided for the present—”
“Cruchot, are you quite sure of what you are saying that you talk in this way before a child?”
“Let me say what I have to say, Grandet.”
“Yes, yes, my friend. Neither you nor my daughter would plunder me. You would not plunder me, would you, little girl?”
“But what am I to do, M. Cruchot?” asked Eugénie, losing patience.
“Well,” said the notary, “you must sign this deed, by which you renounce your claims to your mother’s property; the property would be secured to you, but your father would have the use of it for his life, and there would be no need to make a division now.”
“I understand nothing of all this that you are saying,” Eugénie answered; “give me the deed, and show me where I am to sign my name.”
Grandet looked from the document to his daughter, and again from his daughter to the document. His agitation was so great that he actually wiped several drops of perspiration from his forehead.
“I would much rather you simply waived all claim to your poor dear mother’s property, little girl,” he broke in, “instead of signing that deed. It will cost a lot to register it. I would rather you renounced your claims and trusted to me for the future. I would allow you a good round sum, say a hundred francs every month. You could pay for masses then, you see; you could have masses said for anyone that … Eh? A hundred francs (in livres) every month?”
“I will do just as you like, father.”
“Mademoiselle,” said the notary, “it is my duty to point out to you that you are robbing yourself without guarantee—”
“Eh! mon Dieu!” she answered. “What does that matter to me?”
“Do be quiet, Cruchot. So it is settled, quite settled!” cried Grandet, taking his daughter’s hand and striking his own into it. “You will not go back from your word, Eugénie? You are a good girl, hein!”
“Oh! father—”
In his joy he embraced his daughter, almost suffocating her as he did so.
“There! child, you have given fresh life to your father; but you are only giving him what he gave you, so we are quits. This is how business ought to be conducted, and life is a business transaction. Bless you! You are a good girl, and one that really loves her old father. You can do as you like now. Then goodbye till tomorrow, Cruchot,” he added, turning to the horrified notary. “You will see that the deed of renunciation is properly drawn up for the clerk of the court.”
By noon next day the declaration was drawn up, and Eugénie herself signed away all her rights to her heritage. Yet a year slipped by, and the cooper had not kept his promise, and Eugénie had not received a sou of the monthly income which was to have been hers; when Eugénie spoke to him about it, half laughingly, he could not help blushing; he hurried up to his room, and when he came down again he handed her about a third of the jewelry which he had purchased of his nephew.
“There! child,” he said, with a certain sarcastic ring in his voice; “will you take these for your twelve hundred francs?”
“Oh! father, really? Will you really give them to me?”
“You shall have as much next year again,” said he, flinging it into her lap; “and so, before very long, you will have all his trinkets,” he added, rubbing his hands. He had made a very good bargain, thanks to his daughter’s sentiment about the jewelry, and was in high good humor.
Yet, although the old man was still hale and vigorous, he began to see that he must take his daughter into his confidence, and that she must learn to manage his concerns. So with this end in view he required her to be present while he gave out the daily stores, and for two years he made her receive the portion of the rent which was paid in kind. Gradually she came to know the names of the vineyards and farms; he took her with him when he visited his tenants. By the end of the third year he considered the initiation was complete; and, in truth, she had fallen into his ways unquestioningly, till it had become a matter of habit with her to do as her father had done before her. He had no further doubts, gave over the keys of the storeroom into her keeping, and installed her as mistress of the house.
Five years went by in this way, and no event disturbed their monotonous existence. Eugénie and her father lived a life of methodical routine with the same regularity of movement that characterized the old clock; doing the same things at the same hour day after day, year after year. Everyone knew that there had been a profound sorrow in Mlle. Grandet’s life; every circle in Saumur had its theories of this secret trouble, and its suspicions as to the state of the heiress’ heart, but she never let fall a word that could enlighten anyone on either point.
She saw no one but the three Cruchots and a few of their friends, who had gradually been admitted as visitors to the house. Under their instruction she had mastered the game of whist, and they dropped in nearly every evening for a rubber. In the year 1827 her father began to feel the infirmities of age, and was obliged to take her still further into his confidence; she learned the full extent of his landed possessions, and was recommended in all cases of difficulty to refer to the notary
