“You’ll have to stand me a dinner once a week. That’s indispensable, even though you should have to squander half your income on it. People would feel pleasure in going to it; it would be a centre for the others, a lever for yourself; and by manipulating public opinion at its two ends—literature and politics—you will see how, before six months have passed, we shall occupy the first rank in Paris.”
Frederick, as he listened to Deslauriers, experienced a sensation of rejuvenescence, like a man who, after having been confined in a room for a long time, is suddenly transported into the open air. The enthusiasm of his friend had a contagious effect upon him.
“Yes, I have been an idler, an imbecile—you are right!”
“All in good time,” said Deslauriers. “I have found my Frederick again!”
And, holding up his jaw with closed fingers:
“Ah! you have made me suffer! Never mind, I am fond of you all the same.”
They stood there gazing into each other’s faces, both deeply affected, and were on the point of embracing each other.
A woman’s cap appeared on the threshold of the anteroom.
“What brings you here?” said Deslauriers.
It was Mademoiselle Clémence, his mistress.
She replied that, as she happened to be passing, she could not resist the desire to go in to see him, and in order that they might have a little repast together, she had brought some cakes, which she laid on the table.
“Take care of my papers!” said the advocate, sharply. “Besides, this is the third time that I have forbidden you to come at my consultation-hours.”
She wished to embrace him.
“All right! Go away! Cut your stick!”
He repelled her; she heaved a great sigh.
“Ah! you are plaguing me again!”
“ ’Tis because I love you!”
“I don’t ask you to love me, but to oblige me!”
This harsh remark stopped Clémence’s tears. She took up her station before the window, and remained there motionless, with her forehead against the pane.
Her attitude and her silence had an irritating effect on Deslauriers.
“When you have finished, you will order your carriage, will you not?”
She turned round with a start.
“You are sending me away?”
“Exactly.”
She fixed on him her large blue eyes, no doubt as a last appeal, then drew the two ends of her tartan across each other, lingered for a minute or two, and went away.
“You ought to call her back,” said Frederick.
“Come, now!”
And, as he wished to go out, Deslauriers went into the kitchen, which also served as his dressing-room. On the stone floor, beside a pair of boots, were to be seen the remains of a meagre breakfast, and a mattress with a coverlid was rolled up on the floor in a corner.
“This will show you,” said he, “that I receive few marchionesses. ’Tis easy to get enough of them, ay, faith! and some others, too! Those who cost nothing take up your time—’tis money under another form. Now, I’m not rich! And then they are all so silly, so silly! Can you chat with a woman yourself?”
As they parted, at the corner of the Pont Neuf, Deslauriers said: “It’s agreed, then; you’ll bring the thing to me tomorrow as soon as you have it!”
“Agreed!” said Frederick.
When he awoke next morning, he received through the post a cheque on the bank for fifteen thousand francs.
This scrap of paper represented to him fifteen big bags of money; and he said to himself that, with such a sum he could, first of all, keep his carriage for three years instead of selling it, as he would soon be forced to do, or buy for himself two beautiful damaskeened pieces of armour, which he had seen on the Quai Voltaire, then a quantity of other things, pictures, books and what a quantity of bouquets of flowers, presents for Madame Arnoux! anything, in short, would have been preferable to risking losing everything in that journal! Deslauriers seemed to him presumptuous, his insensibility on the night before having chilled Frederick’s affection for him; and the young man was indulging in these feelings of regret, when he was quite surprised by the sudden appearance of Arnoux, who sat down heavily on the side of the bed, like a man overwhelmed with trouble.
“What is the matter now?”
“I am ruined!”
He had to deposit that very day at the office of Maître Beaumont, notary, in the Rue Saint-Anne, eighteen thousand francs lent him by one Vanneroy.
“ ’Tis an unaccountable disaster. I have, however, given him a mortgage, which ought to keep him quiet. But he threatens me with a writ if it is not paid this afternoon promptly.”
“And what next?”
“Oh! the next step is simple enough; he will take possession of my real estate. Once the thing is publicly announced, it means ruin to me—that’s all! Ah! if I could find anyone to advance me this cursed sum, he might take Vanneroy’s place, and I should be saved! You don’t chance to have it yourself?”
The cheque had remained on the night-table near a book. Frederick took up a volume, and placed it on the cheque, while he replied:
“Good heavens, my dear friend, no!”
But it was painful to him to say “no” to Arnoux.
“What, don’t you know anyone who would—?”
“Nobody! and to think that in eight days I should be getting in money! There is owing to me probably fifty thousand francs at the end of the month!”
“Couldn’t you ask some of the persons that owe you money to make you an advance?”
“Ah! well, so I did!”
“But have you any bills or promissory notes?”
“Not one!”
“What is to be done?” said Frederick.
“That’s what I’m asking myself,” said Arnoux. “ ’Tisn’t for myself, my God! but for my children and my poor wife!”
Then, letting each phrase fall from his lips in a broken fashion:
“In fact—I
