A Man of Business

“All this was simmering below the surface. The slightest approach at love-making was made quite on the sly. Not a soul suspected that the trim little old fogy was smitten with Antonia; and so prudent was the elderly lover, that no rival could have guessed anything from his behavior in the reading-room. For a couple of months Croizeau watched the retired custom-house official; but before the third month was out he had good reason to believe that his suspicions were groundless. He exerted his ingenuity to scrape an acquaintance with Denisart, came up with him in the street, and at length seized his opportunity to remark, ‘It is a fine day, sir!’

“Whereupon the retired official responded with, ‘Austerlitz weather, sir. I was there myself – I was wounded indeed, I won my Cross on that glorious day.’

“And so from one thing to another the two drifted wrecks of the Empire struck up an acquaintance. Little Croizeau was attached to the Empire through his connection with Napoleon’s sisters. He had been their coach-builder, and had frequently dunned them for money; so he gave out that he ‘had had relations with the Imperial family.’ Maxime, duly informed by Antonia of the ‘nice old man’s’ proposals (for so the aunt called Croizeau), wished to see him. Cerizet’s declaration of war had so far taken effect that he of the yellow kid gloves was studying the position of every piece, however insignificant, upon the board; and it so happened that at the mention of that ‘nice old man,’ an ominous tinkling sounded in his ears. One evening, therefore, Maxime seated himself among the book-shelves in the dimly lighted back room, reconnoitred the seven or eight customers through the chink between the green curtains, and took the little coach-builder’s measure. He gauged the man’s infatuation, and was very well satisfied to find that the varnished doors of a tolerably sumptuous future were ready to turn at a word from Antonia so soon as his own fancy had passed off.

“‘And that other one yonder?’ asked he, pointing out the stout fine-looking elderly man with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. ‘Who is he?’

“‘A retired custom-house officer.’

“‘The cut of his countenance is not reassuring,’ said Maxime, beholding the Sieur Denisart.

“And indeed the old soldier held himself upright as a steeple. His head was remarkable for the amount of powder and pomatum bestowed upon it; he looked almost like a postilion at a fancy ball. Underneath that felted covering, moulded to the top of the wearer’s cranium, appeared an elderly profile, half-official, half-soldierly, with a comical admixture of arrogance, – altogether something like caricatures of the Constitutionnel. The sometime official finding that age, and hair-powder, and the conformation of his spine made it impossible to read a word without spectacles, sat displaying a very creditable expanse of chest with all the pride of an old man with a mistress. Like old General Montcornet, that pillar of the Vaudeville, he wore earrings. Denisart was partial to blue; his roomy trousers and well-worn greatcoat were both of blue cloth.

“‘How long is it since that old fogy came here?’ inquired Maxime, thinking that he saw danger in the spectacles.

“‘Oh, from the beginning,’ returned Antonia, ‘pretty nearly two months ago now.’

“‘Good,” said Maxime to himself, ‘Cerizet only came to me a month ago. – Just get him to talk,’ he added in Antonia’s ear; ‘I want to hear his voice.’

“‘Pshaw,’ said she, ‘that is not so easy. He never says a word to me.’

“‘Then why does he come here?’ demanded Maxime.

“‘For a queer reason,’ returned the fair Antonia. ‘In the first place, although he is sixty-nine, he has a fancy; and because he is sixty-nine, he is as methodical as a clock face. Every day at five o’clock the old gentleman goes to dine with her in the Rue de la Victoire. (I am sorry for her.) Then at six o’clock, he comes here, reads steadily at the papers for four hours, and goes back at ten o’clock. Daddy Croizeau says that he knows M. Denisart’s motives, and approves his conduct; and in his place, he would do the same. So I know exactly what to expect. If ever I am Mme. Croizeau, I shall have four hours to myself between six and ten o’clock.’

“Maxime looked through the directory, and found the following reassuring item:

“DENISART,* retired custom-house officer, Rue de la Victoire.

“His uneasiness vanished.

“Gradually the Sieur Denisart and the Sieur Croizeau began to exchange confidences. Nothing so binds two men together as a similarity of views in the matter of womankind. Daddy Croizeau went to dine with ‘M. Denisart’s fair lady,’ as he called her. And here I must make a somewhat important observation.

“The reading-room had been paid for half in cash, half in bills signed by the said Mlle. Chocardelle. The quart d’heure de Rabelais arrived; the Count had no money. So the first bill of three thousand francs was met by the amiable coach-builder; that old scoundrel Denisart having recommended him to secure himself with a mortgage on the reading-room.

“‘For my own part,’ said Denisart, ‘I have seen pretty doings from pretty women. So in all cases, even when I have lost my head, I am always on my guard with a woman. There is this creature, for instance; I am madly in love with her; but this is not her furniture; no, it belongs to me. The lease is taken out in my name.’

“You know Maxime! He thought the coach-builder uncommonly green. Croizeau might pay all three bills, and get nothing for a long while; for Maxime felt more infatuated with Antonia than ever.”

“I can well believe it,” said La Palferine. “She is the bella Imperia of our day.”

“With her rough skin!” exclaimed Malaga; “so rough, that she ruins herself in bran baths!”

“Croizeau spoke with a coach-builder’s admiration of the sumptuous furniture provided by the amorous Denisart as a setting for his fair one, describing it all in detail with diabolical complacency for Antonia’s benefit,” continued Desroches. “The ebony chests inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold wire, the Brussels carpets, a mediaeval bedstead worth three thousand francs, a Boule clock, candelabra in the four corners of the dining-room, silk curtains, on which Chinese patience had wrought pictures of birds, and hangings over the doors, worth more than the portress that opened them.

“‘And that is what you ought to have, my pretty lady. – And that is what I should like to offer you,’ he would conclude. ‘I am quite aware that you scarcely care a bit about me; but, at my age, we cannot expect too much. Judge how much I love you; I have lent you a thousand francs. I must confess that, in all my born days, I have not lent anybody that much – ’

“He held out his penny as he spoke, with the important air of a man that gives a learned demonstration.

“That evening at the Varietes, Antonia spoke to the Count.

“‘A reading-room is very dull, all the same,’ said she; ‘I feel that I have no sort of taste for that kind of life, and I see no future in it. It is only fit for a widow that wishes to keep body and soul together, or for some hideously ugly thing that fancies she can catch a husband with a little finery.’

“‘It was your own choice,’ returned the Count. Just at that moment, in came Nucingen, of whom Maxime, king of lions (the ‘yellow kid gloves’ were the lions of that day) had won three thousand francs the evening before. Nucingen had come to pay his gaming debt.

“‘Ein writ of attachment haf shoost peen served on me by der order of dot teufel Glabaron,’ he said, seeing Maxime’s astonishment.

“‘Oh, so that is how they are going to work, is it?’ cried Maxime. ‘They are not up to much, that pair – ’

“‘It makes not,’ said the banker, ‘bay dem, for dey may apply demselfs to oders pesides, und do you harm. I dake dees bretty voman to vitness dot I haf baid you dees morning, long pefore dat writ vas serfed.’”

“Queen of the boards,” smiled La Palferine, looking at Malaga, “thou art about to lose thy bet.”

“Once, a long time ago, in a similar case,” resumed Desroches, “a too honest debtor took fright at the idea of a solemn declaration in a court of law, and declined to pay Maxime after notice was given. That time we made it hot for the creditor by piling on writs of attachment, so as to absorb the whole amount in costs – ”

“Oh, what is that?” cried Malaga; “it all sounds like gibberish to me. As you thought the sturgeon so excellent at dinner, let me take out the value of the sauce in lessons in chicanery.”

“Very well,” said Desroches. “Suppose that a man owes you money, and your creditors serve a writ of attachment upon him; there is nothing to prevent all your other creditors from doing the same thing. And now what does the court do when all the creditors make application for orders to pay? The court divides the whole sum attached, proportionately among them all. That division, made under the eye of a magistrate, is what we call a contribution. If you owe ten thousand francs, and your creditors issue writs of attachment on a debt due to you of a thousand francs, each one of them gets so much per cent, ‘so much in the pound,’ in legal phrase; so much (that means) in proportion to the amounts severally claimed by the creditors. But – the creditors cannot touch the money without a special order from the clerk of the court. Do you guess what all this work drawn up by a judge and prepared by attorneys must mean? It means a quantity of stamped paper full of diffuse lines and blanks, the figures almost lost in vast spaces of completely empty ruled columns. The first proceeding is to deduct the costs. Now, as the costs are precisely the same whether the amount attached is one thousand or one million francs, it is not difficult to eat up three thousand francs (for instance) in costs, especially if you can manage to raise counter applications.”

“And an attorney always manages to do it,” said Cardot. “How many a time one of you has come to me with, ‘What is there to be got out of the case?’”

“It is particularly easy to manage it if the debtor eggs you on to run up costs till they eat up the amount. And, as a rule, the Count’s creditors took nothing by that move, and were out of pocket in law and personal expenses. To get money out of so experienced a debtor as the Count, a creditor should really be in a position uncommonly difficult to reach; it is a question of being creditor and debtor both, for then you are legally entitled to work the confusion of rights, in law language – ”

“To the confusion of the debtor?” asked Malaga, lending an attentive ear to this discourse.

“No, the confusion of rights of debtor and creditor, and pay yourself through your own hands. So Claparon’s innocence in merely issuing writs of attachment eased the Count’s mind. As he came back from the Varietes with Antonia, he was so much the more taken with the idea of selling the reading-room to pay off the last two thousand francs of the purchase-money, because he did not care to have his name made public as a partner in such a concern. So he adopted Antonia’s plan. Antonia wished to reach the higher ranks of her calling, with splendid rooms, a maid, and a carriage; in short, she wanted to rival our charming hostess, for instance – ”

“She was not woman enough for that,” cried the famous beauty of the Circus; “still, she ruined young d’Esgrignon very neatly.”

“Ten days afterwards, little Croizeau, perched on his dignity, said almost exactly the same thing, for the fair Antonia’s benefit,” continued Desroches.

“‘Child,’ said he, ‘your reading-room is a hole of a place. You will lose your complexion; the gas will ruin your eyesight. You ought to come out of it; and, look here, let us take advantage of an opportunity. I have found a young lady for you that asks no better than to buy your reading-room. She is a ruined woman with nothing before her but a plunge into the river; but she had four thousand francs in cash, and the best thing to do is to turn them to account, so as to feed and educate a couple of children.’

“‘Very well. It is kind of you, Daddy Croizeau,’ said Antonia.

“‘Oh, I shall be much kinder before I have done. Just imagine it, poor M. Denisart has been worried into the jaundice! Yes, it has gone to the liver, as it usually does with susceptible old men. It is a pity he feels things so. I told him so myself; I said, “Be passionate, there is no harm in that, but as for taking things to heart – draw the line at that! It is the way to kill yourself.” – Really, I would not have expected him to take on so about it; a man that has sense enough and experience enough to keep away as he does while he digests his dinner – ’

“‘But what is the matter?’ inquired Mlle. Chocardelle.

“‘That little baggage with whom I dined has cleared out and left him! … Yes. Gave him the slip without any warning but a letter, in which the spelling was all to seek.’

“‘There, Daddy Croizeau, you see what comes of boring a woman – ’

“‘It is indeed a lesson, my pretty lady,’ said the guileful Croizeau. ‘Meanwhile, I have never seen a man in such a state. Our friend Denisart cannot tell his left hand from his right; he will not go back to look at the “scene of his happiness,” as he calls it. He has so thoroughly lost his wits, that he proposes that I should buy all Hortense’s furniture (Hortense was her name) for four thousand francs.’

“‘A pretty name,’ said Antonia.

“‘Yes. Napoleon’s stepdaughter was called Hortense. I built carriages for her, as you know.’

“‘Very well, I will see,’ said cunning Antonia; ‘begin by sending this young woman to me.’

“Antonia hurried off to see the furniture, and came back fascinated. She brought Maxime under the spell of antiquarian enthusiasm. That very evening the Count agreed to the sale of the reading-room. The establishment, you see, nominally belonged to Mlle. Chocardelle. Maxime burst out laughing at the idea of little Croizeau’s finding him a buyer. The firm of Maxime and Chocardelle was losing two thousand francs, it is true, but what was the loss compared with four glorious thousand-franc notes in hand? ‘Four thousand francs of live coin! – there are moments in one’s life when one would sign bills for eight thousand to get them,’ as the Count said to me.

“Two days later the Count must see the furniture himself, and took the four thousand francs upon him. The sale had been arranged; thanks to little Croizeau’s diligence, he pushed matters on; he had ‘come round’ the widow, as he expressed it. It was Maxime’s intention to have all the furniture removed at once to a lodging in a new house in the Rue Tronchet, taken in the name of Mme. Ida Bonamy; he did not trouble himself much about the nice old man that was about to lose his thousand francs. But he had sent beforehand for several big furniture vans.

“Once again he was fascinated by the beautiful furniture which a wholesale dealer would have valued at six thousand francs. By the fireside sat the wretched owner, yellow with jaundice, his head tied up in a couple of printed handkerchiefs, and a cotton night-cap on top of them; he was huddled up in wrappings like a chandelier, exhausted, unable to speak, and altogether so knocked to pieces that the Count was obliged to transact his business with the man-servant. When he had paid down the four thousand francs, and the servant had taken the money to his master for a receipt, Maxime turned to tell the man to call up the vans to the door; but even as he spoke, a voice like a rattle sounded in his ears.

“‘It is not worth while, Monsieur le Comte. You and I are quits; I have six hundred and thirty francs fifteen centimes to give you!’

“To his utter consternation, he saw Cerizet, emerged from his wrappings like a butterfly from the chrysalis, holding out the accursed bundle of documents.

“‘When I was down on my luck, I learned to act on the stage,’ added Cerizet. ‘I am as good as Bouffe at old men.’

“‘I have fallen among thieves!’ shouted Maxime.

“‘No, Monsieur le Comte, you are in Mlle. Hortense’s house. She is a friend of old Lord Dudley’s; he keeps her hidden away here; but she has the bad taste to like your humble servant.’

“‘If ever I longed to kill a man,’ so the Count told me afterwards, ‘it was at that moment; but what could one do? Hortense showed her pretty face, one had to laugh. To keep my dignity, I flung her the six hundred francs. “There’s for the girl,” said I.’”

“That is Maxime all over!” cried La Palferine.

“More especially as it was little Croizeau’s money,” added Cardot the profound.

“Maxime scored a triumph,” continued Desroches, “for Hortense exclaimed, ‘Oh, if I had only known that it was you!’”

“A pretty ‘confusion’ indeed!” put in Malaga. “You have lost, milord,” she added turning to the notary.

And in this way the cabinetmaker, to whom Malaga owed a hundred crowns, was paid.

PARIS, 1845

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy

Barbet

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Seamy Side of History

The Middle Classes

Bixiou, Jean-Jacques

The Purse

A Bachelor’s Establishment

The Government Clerks

Modeste Mignon

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Firm of Nucingen

The Muse of the Department

Cousin Betty

The Member for Arcis

Beatrix

Gaudissart II.

The Unconscious Humorists

Cousin Pons

Cardot (Parisian notary)

The Muse of the Department

Jealousies of a Country Town

Pierre Grassou

The Middle Classes

Cousin Pons

Cerizet

Lost Illusions

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Middle Classes

Chaboisseau

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Government Clerks

Chocardelle, Mademoiselle

Beatrix

A Prince of Bohemia

Cousin Betty

The Member for Arcis

Claparon, Charles

A Bachelor’s Establishment

Cesar Birotteau

Melmoth Reconciled

The Firm of Nucingen

The Middle Classes

Desroches (son)

A Bachelor’s Establishment

Colonel Chabert

A Start in Life

A Woman of Thirty

The Commission in Lunacy

The Government Clerks

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Firm of Nucingen

The Middle Classes

Dudley, Lord

The Lily of the Valley

The Thirteen

Another Study of Woman

A Daughter of Eve

Esgrignon, Victurnien, Comte (then Marquis d’)

Jealousies of a Country Town

Letters of Two Brides

The Secrets of a Princess

Cousin Betty

Estourny, Charles d’

Modeste Mignon

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Hortense

The Member for Arcis

La Palferine, Comte de

A Prince of Bohemia

Cousin Betty

Beatrix

The Imaginary Mistress

Lousteau, Etienne

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

A Bachelor’s Establishment

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

A Daughter of Eve

Beatrix

The Muse of the Department

Cousin Betty

A Prince of Bohemia

The Middle Classes

The Unconscious Humorists

Montcornet, Marechal, Comte de

Domestic Peace

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Peasantry

Cousin Betty

Nathan, Raoul

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Secrets of a Princess

A Daughter of Eve

Letters of Two Brides

The Seamy Side of History

The Muse of the Department

A Prince of Bohemia

The Unconscious Humorists

Nucingen, Baron Frederic de

The Firm of Nucingen

Father Goriot

Pierrette

Cesar Birotteau

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Another Study of Woman

The Secrets of a Princess

Cousin Betty

The Muse of the Department

The Unconscious Humorists

Samanon

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Government Clerks

Cousin Betty

Trailles, Comte Maxime de

Cesar Birotteau

Father Goriot

Gobseck

Ursule Mirouet

The Member for Arcis

The Secrets of a Princess

Cousin Betty

Beatrix

The Unconscious Humorists

Turquet, Marguerite

The Imaginary Mistress

The Muse of the Department

Cousin Betty