The Red and the Black: A Chronicle of 1830
"So far as I can see I am not wanted in my family," he said as he
entered in a tone which he meant to be impressive.
For answer, his wife took him on one side and declared that it was
essential to send Julien away. The hours of happiness which she had
just enjoyed had given her again the ease and firmness of demeanour
necessary to follow out the plan of campaign which she had been
hatching for a fortnight. The finishing touch to the trouble of the
poor mayor of Verrières was the fact that he knew that they joked
publicly in the town about his love for cash. Valenod was as generous
as a thief, and on his side had acquitted himself brilliantly in the
last five or six collections for the Brotherhood of St. Joseph, the
congregation of the Virgin, the congregation of the Holy Sacrament,
etc., etc.
M. de Rênal's name had been seen more than once at the bottom of the
list of gentlefolk of Verrières, and the surrounding neighbourhood
who were adroitly classified in the list of the collecting brethren
according to the amount of their offerings. It was in vain that he said
that he was _not making money_. The clergy stands no nonsense in such
matters.
CHAPTER XXIII
SORROWS OF AN OFFICIAL
Il piacere di alzar la testa tutto l'anno, è ben pagato
da certi quarti d'ora che bisogna passar.--_Casti_.
Let us leave this petty man to his petty fears; why did he take a man
of spirit into his household when he needed someone with the soul
of a valet? Why can't he select his staff? The ordinary trend of
the nineteenth century is that when a noble and powerful individual
encounters a man of spirit, he kills him, exiles him and imprisons him,
or so humiliates him that the other is foolish enough to die of grief.
In this country it so happens that it is not merely the man of spirit
who suffers. The great misfortunes of the little towns of France and of
representative governments, like that of New York, is that they find
it impossible to forget the existence of individuals like M. de Rênal.
It is these men who make public opinion in a town of twenty thousand
inhabitants, and public opinion is terrible in a country which has a
charter of liberty. A man, though of a naturally noble and generous
disposition, who would have been your friend in the natural course of
events, but who happens to live a hundred leagues off, judges you by
the public opinion of your town which is made by those fools who have
chanced to be born noble, rich and conservative. Unhappy is the man who
distinguishes himself.
Immediately after dinner they left for Vergy, but the next day but
one Julien saw the whole family return to Verrières. An hour had not
passed before he discovered to his great surprise that Madame de Rênal
had some mystery up her sleeve. Whenever he came into the room she
would break off her conversation with her husband and would almost
seem to desire that he should go away. Julien did not need to be given
this hint twice. He became cold and reserved. Madame de Rênal noticed
it and did not ask for an explanation. "Is she going to give me a
successor," thought Julien. "And to think of her being so familiar
with me the day before yesterday, but that is how these great ladies
are said to act. It's just like kings. One never gets any more warning
than the disgraced minister who enters his house to find his letter of
dismissal." Julien noticed that these conversations which left off so
abruptly at his approach, often dealt with a big house which belonged
to the municipality of Verrières, a house which though old was large
and commodious and situated opposite the church in the most busy
commercial district of the town. "What connection can there be between
this house and a new lover," said Julien to himself. In his chagrin he
repeated to himself the pretty verses of Francis I. which seemed novel
to him, for Madame de Rênal had only taught him them a month before:
Souvent femme varie
Bien fol est qui s'y fie.
M. de Rênal took the mail to Besançon. This journey was a matter of two
hours. He seemed extremely harassed. On his return he threw a big grey
paper parcel on the table.
"Here's that silly business," he said to his wife. An hour afterwards
Julien saw the bill-poster carrying the big parcel. He followed him
eagerly. "I shall learn the secret at the first street corner." He
waited impatiently behind the bill-poster who was smearing the back of
the poster with his big brush. It had scarcely been put in its place
before Julien's curiosity saw the detailed announcement of the putting
up for public auction of that big old house whose name had figured so
frequently in M. de Rênal's conversations with his wife. The auction of
the lease was announced for to-morrow at two o'clock in the Town Hall
after the extinction of the third fire. Julien was very disappointed.
He found the time a little short. How could there be time to apprise
all the other would-be purchasers. But, moreover, the bill, which was
dated a fortnight back, and which he read again in its entirety in
three distinct places, taught him nothing.
He went to visit the house which was to let. The porter, who had not
seen him approach, was saying mysteriously to a neighbour:
"Pooh, pooh, waste of time. M. Maslon has promised him that he shall
have it for three hundred francs; and, as the mayor kicked, he has been
summoned to the bishop's palace by M. the Grand Vicar de Frilair."
Julien's arrival seemed very much to disconcert the two friends who
did not say another word. Julien made a point of being present at the
auction of the lease.
There was a crowd in the badly-lighted hall, but everybody kept
quizzing each other in quite a singular way. All eyes were fixed on a
table where Julien perceived three little lighted candle-ends on a tin
plate. The usher was crying out "Three hundred francs, gentlemen."
"Three hundred francs, that's a bit too thick," said a man to his
neighbour in a low voice. Julien was between the two of them. "It's
worth more than eight hundred, I will raise the bidding." "It's cutting
off your nose to spite your face. What will you gain by putting M.
Maslon, M. Valenod, the Bishop, this terrible Grand Vicar de Frilair
and the whole gang on your track."
"Three hundred and twenty francs," shouted out the other.
"Damned brute," answered his neighbour. "Why here we have a spy of the
mayor," he added, designating Julien.
Julien turned sharply round to punish this remark, but the two,
Franc-comtois, were no longer paying any attention to him. Their
coolness gave him back his own. At that moment the last candle-end
went out and the usher's drawling voice awarded the house to M. de St.
Giraud of the office of the prefecture of ---- for a term of nine years
and for a rent of 320 francs.
As soon as the mayor had left the hall, the gossip began again.
"Here's thirty francs that Grogeot's recklessness is landing the
municipality in for," said one--"But," answered another, "M. de Saint
Giraud will revenge himself on Grogeot."
"How monstrous," said a big man on Julien's left. "A house which I
myself would have given eight hundred francs for my factory, and I
would have got a good bargain."
"Pooh!" answered a young manufacturer, "doesn't M. de St. Giraud belong
to the congregation? Haven't his four children got scholarships? poor
man! The community of Verrières must give him five hundred francs over
and above his salary, that is all."
"And to say that the mayor was not able to stop it," remarked a third.
"For he's an ultra he is, I'm glad to say, but he doesn't steal."
"Doesn't he?" answered another. "Suppose it's simply a mere game of
'snap'[1] then. Everything goes into a big common purse, and everything
is divided up at the end of the year. But here's that little Sorel,
let's go away."
Julien got home in a very bad temper. He found Madame de Rênal very sad.
"You come from the auction?" she said to him.
"Yes, madam, where I had the honour of passing for a spy of M. the
Mayor."
"If he had taken my advice, he would have gone on a journey."
At this moment Monsieur de Rênal appeared: he looked very dismal. The
dinner passed without a single word. Monsieur de Rênal ordered Julien
to follow the children to Vergy.
Madame de Rênal endeavoured to console her husband.
"You ought to be used to it, my dear."
That evening they were seated in silence around the domestic hearth.
The crackle of the burnt pinewood was their only distraction. It
was one of those moments of silence which happen in the most united
families. One of the children cried out gaily,
"Somebody's ringing, somebody's ringing!"
"Zounds! supposing it's Monsieur de Saint Giraud who has come under
the pretext of thanking me," exclaimed the mayor. "I will give him a
dressing down. It is outrageous. It is Valenod to whom he'll feel under
an obligation, and it is I who get compromised. What shall I say if
those damned Jacobin journalists get hold of this anecdote, and turn me
into a M. Nonante Cinque."
A very good-looking man, with big black whiskers, entered at this
moment, preceded by the servant.
"Monsieur the mayor, I am Signor Geronimo. Here is a letter which M.
the Chevalier de Beauvoisis, who is attached to the Embassy of Naples,
gave me for you on my departure. That is only nine days ago, added
Signor Geronimo, gaily looking at Madame de Rênal. Your cousin, and my
good friend, Signor de Beauvoisis says that you know Italian, Madame."
The Neapolitan's good humour changed this gloomy evening into a very
gay one. Madame de Rênal insisted upon giving him supper. She put the
whole house on the go. She wanted to free Julien at any price from the
imputation of espionage which she had heard already twice that day.
Signor Geronimo was an excellent singer, excellent company, and had
very gay qualities which, at any rate in France, are hardly compatible
with each other. After dinner he sang a little duet with Madame de
Rênal, and told some charming tales. At one o'clock in the morning the
children protested, when Julien suggested that they should go to bed.
"Another of those stories," said the eldest.
"It is my own, Signorino," answered Signor Geronimo.
"Eight years ago I was, like you, a young pupil of the Naples
Conservatoire. I mean I was your age, but I did not have the honour to
be the son of the distinguished mayor of the pretty town of Verrières."
This phrase made M. de Rênal sigh, and look at his wife.
"Signor Zingarelli," continued the young singer, somewhat exaggerating
his action, and thus making the children burst into laughter, "Signor
Zingarelli was an excellent though severe master. He is not popular at
the Conservatoire, but he insists on the pretence being kept up that he
is. I went out as often as I could. I used to go to the little Theatre
de San Carlino, where I used to hear divine music. But heavens! the
question was to scrape together the eight sous which were the price of
admission to the parterre? An enormous sum," he said, looking at the
children and watching them laugh. "Signor Giovannone, director of the
San Carlino, heard me sing. I was sixteen. 'That child is a treasure,'
he said.
"'Would you like me to engage you, my dear boy?' he said.
"'And how much will you give me?'
"'Forty ducats a month.' That is one hundred and sixty francs,
gentlemen. I thought the gates of heaven had opened.
"'But,' I said to Giovannone, 'how shall I get the strict Zingarelli to
let me go out?'
"'_Lascia fare a me_.'"
"Leave it to me," exclaimed the eldest of the children.
"Quite right, my young sir. Signor Giovannone he says to me, 'First
sign this little piece of paper, my dear friend.' I sign.
"He gives me three ducats. I had never seen so much money. Then he told