The Two Brothers

H >> Honore de Balzac >> The Two Brothers


"I have come, monsieur," said Philippe, "to introduce myself to you; I
am forced to consider how I can manage to live here, for five years,
on sixty francs a month."

"It can be done," said the octogenarian.

Philippe talked about things in general, with perfect propriety. He
mentioned the journalist Lousteau, nephew of the old lady, as a "rara
avis," and won her good graces from the moment she heard him say that
the name of Lousteau would become celebrated. He did not hesitate to
admit his faults of conduct. To a friendly admonition which Madame
Hochon addressed to him in a low voice, he replied that he had
reflected deeply while in prison, and could promise that in future he
would live another life.

On a hint from Philippe, Monsieur Hochon went out with him when he
took his leave. When the miser and the soldier reached the boulevard
Baron, a place where no one could overhear them, the colonel turned to
the old man,--

"Monsieur," he said, "if you will be guided by me, we will never speak
together of matters and things, or people either, unless we are
walking in the open country, or in places where we cannot be heard.
Maitre Desroches has fully explained to me the influence of the gossip
of a little town. Therefore I don't wish you to be suspected of
advising me; though Desroches has told me to ask for your advice, and
I beg you not to be chary of giving it. We have a powerful enemy in
our front, and it won't do to neglect any precaution which may help to
defeat him. In the first place, therefore, excuse me if I do not call
upon you again. A little coldness between us will clear you of all
suspicion of influencing my conduct. When I want to consult you, I
will pass along the square at half-past nine, just as you are coming
out after breakfast. If you see me carry my cane on my shoulder, that
will mean that we must meet--accidentally--in some open space which
you will point out to me."

"I see you are a prudent man, bent on success," said old Hochon.

"I shall succeed, monsieur. First of all, give me the names of the
officers of the old army now living in Issoudun, who have not taken
sides with Maxence Gilet; I wish to make their acquaintance."

"Well, there's a captain of the artillery of the Guard, Monsieur
Mignonnet, a man about forty years of age, who was brought up at the
Ecole Polytechnique, and lives in a quiet way. He is a very honorable
man, and openly disapproves of Max, whose conduct he considers
unworthy of a true soldier."

"Good!" remarked the lieutenant-colonel.

"There are not many soldiers here of that stripe," resumed Monsieur
Hochon; "the only other that I know is an old cavalry captain."

"That is my arm," said Philippe. "Was he in the Guard?"

"Yes," replied Monsieur Hochon. "Carpentier was, in 1810,
sergeant-major in the dragoons; then he rose to be sub-lieutenant in
the line, and subsequently captain of cavalry."

"Giroudeau may know him," thought Philippe.

"This Monsieur Carpentier took the place in the mayor's office which
Gilet threw up; he is a friend of Monsieur Mignonnet."

"How can I earn my living here?"

"They are going, I think, to establish a mutual insurance agency in
Issoudun, for the department of the Cher; you might get a place in it,
but the pay won't be more than fifty francs a month at the outside."

"That will be enough."

At the end of a week Philippe had a new suit of clothes,--coat,
waistcoat, and trousers,--of good blue Elbeuf cloth, bought on credit,
to be paid for at so much a month; also new boots, buckskin gloves,
and a hat. Giroudeau sent him some linen, with his weapons and a
letter for Carpentier, who had formerly served under Giroudeau. The
letter secured him Carpentier's good-will, and the latter presented
him to his friend Mignonnet as a man of great merit and the highest
character. Philippe won the admiration of these worthy officers by
confiding to them a few facts about the late conspiracy, which was, as
everybody knows, the last attempt of the old army against the
Bourbons; for the affair of the sergeants at La Rochelle belongs to
another order of ideas.

Warned by the fate of the conspiracy of the 19th of August, 1820, and
of those of Berton and Caron, the soldiers of the old army resigned
themselves, after their failure in 1822, to await events. This last
conspiracy, which grew out of that of the 19th of August, was really a
continuation of the latter, carried on by a better element. Like its
predecessor, it was absolutely unknown to the royal government.
Betrayed once more, the conspirators had the wit to reduce their vast
enterprise to the puny proportions of a barrack plot. This conspiracy,
in which several regiments of cavalry, infantry, and artillery were
concerned, had its centre in the north of France. The strong places
along the frontier were to be captured at a blow. If success had
followed, the treaties of 1815 would have been broken by a federation
with Belgium, which, by a military compact made among the soldiers,
was to withdraw from the Holy Alliance. Two thrones would have been
plunged in a moment into the vortex of this sudden cyclone. Instead of
this formidable scheme--concerted by strong minds and supported by
personages of high rank--being carried out, one small part of it, and
that only, was discovered and brought before the Court of Peers.
Philippe Bridau consented to screen the leaders, who retired the
moment the plot was discovered (either by treachery or accident), and
from their seats in both Chambers lent their co-operation to the
inquiry only to work for the ultimate success of their purpose at the
heart of the government.

To recount this scheme, which, since 1830, the Liberals have openly
confessed in all its ramifications, would trench upon the domain of
history and involve too long a digression. This glimpse of it is
enough to show the double part which Philippe Bridau undertook to
play. The former staff-officer of the Emperor was to lead a movement
in Paris solely for the purpose of masking the real conspiracy and
occupying the mind of the government at its centre, while the great
struggle should burst forth at the north. When the latter miscarried
before discovery, Philippe was ordered to break all links connecting
the two plots, and to allow the secrets of the secondary plot only to
become known. For this purpose, his abject misery, to which his state
of health and his clothing bore witness, was amply sufficient to
undervalue the character of the conspiracy and reduce its proportions
in the eyes of the authorities. The role was well suited to the
precarious position of the unprincipled gambler. Feeling himself
astride of both parties, the crafty Philippe played the saint to the
royal government, all the while retaining the good opinion of the men
in high places who were of the other party,--determined to cast in his
lot at a later day with whichever side he might then find most to his
advantage.

These revelations as to the vast bearings of the real conspiracy made
Philippe a man of great distinction in the eyes of Carpentier and
Mignonnet, to whom his self-devotion seemed a state-craft worthy of
the palmy days of the Convention. In a short time the tricky
Bonapartist was seen to be on friendly terms with the two officers,
and the consideration they enjoyed in the town was, of course, shared
by him. He soon obtained, through their recommendation, the situation
in the insurance office that old Hochon had suggested, which required
only three hours of his day. Mignonnet and Carpentier put him up at
their club, where his good manners and bearing, in keeping with the
high opinion which the two officers expressed about him, won him a
respect often given to external appearances that are only deceitful.

Philippe, whose conduct was carefully considered and planned, had
indeed made many reflections while in prison as to the inconveniences
of leading a debauched life. He did not need Desroches's lecture to
understand the necessity of conciliating the people at Issoudun by
decent, sober, and respectable conduct. Delighted to attract Max's
ridicule by behaving with the propriety of a Mignonnet, he went
further, and endeavored to lull Gilet's suspicions by deceiving him as
to his real character. He was bent on being taken for a fool by
appearing generous and disinterested; all the while drawing a net
around his adversary, and keeping his eye on his uncle's property. His
mother and brother, on the contrary, who were really disinterested,
generous, and lofty, had been accused of greed because they had acted
with straightforward simplicity. Philippe's covetousness was fully
roused by Monsieur Hochon, who gave him all the details of his uncle's
property. In the first secret conversation which he held with the
octogenarian, they agreed that Philippe must not awaken Max's
suspicions; for the game would be lost if Flore and Max were to carry
off their victim, though no further than Bourges.

Once a week the colonel dined with Mignonnet; another day with
Carpentier; and every Thursday with Monsieur Hochon. At the end of
three weeks he received other invitations for the remaining days, so
that he had little more than his breakfast to provide. He never spoke
of his uncle, nor of the Rabouilleuse, nor of Gilet, unless it were in
connection with his mother and his brother's stay in Issoudun. The
three officers--the only soldiers in the town who were decorated, and
among whom Philippe had the advantage of the rosette, which in the
eyes of all provincials gave him a marked superiority--took a habit of
walking together every day before dinner, keeping, as the saying is,
to themselves. This reserve and tranquillity of demeanor had an
excellent effect on Issoudun. All Max's adherents thought Philippe a
"sabreur,"--an expression applied by soldiers to the commonest sort of
courage in their superior officers, while denying that they possess
the requisite qualities of a commander.

"He is a very honorable man," said Goddet the surgeon, to Max.

"Bah!" replied Gilet, "his behavior before the Court of Peers proves
him to have been either a dupe or a spy; he is, as you say, ninny
enough to have been duped by the great players."

After obtaining his situation, Philippe, who was well informed as to
the gossip of the town, wished to conceal certain circumstances of his
present life as much as possible from the knowledge of the
inhabitants; he therefore went to live in a house at the farther end
of the faubourg Saint-Paterne, to which was attached a large garden.
Here he was able in the utmost secrecy to fence with Carpentier, who
had been a fencing-master in the infantry before entering the cavalry.
Philippe soon recovered his early dexterity, and learned other and new
secrets from Carpentier, which convinced him that he need not fear the
prowess of any adversary. This done, he began openly to practise with
pistols, with Mignonnet and Carpentier, declaring it was for
amusement, but really intending to make Max believe that, in case of a
duel, he should rely on that weapon. Whenever Philippe met Gilet he
waited for him to bow first, and answered the salutation by touching
the brim of his hat cavalierly, as an officer acknowledges the salute
of a private. Maxence Gilet gave no sign of impatience or displeasure;
he never uttered a single word about Bridau at the Cognettes' where he
still gave suppers; although, since Fario's attack, the pranks of the
Order of Idleness were temporarily suspended.

After a while, however, the contempt shown by Lieutenant-colonel
Bridau for the former cavalry captain, Gilet, was a settled fact,
which certain Knights of Idleness, who were less bound to Max than
Francois, Baruch, and three or four others, discussed among
themselves. They were much surprised to see the violent and fiery Max
behave with such discretion. No one in Issoudun, not even Potel or
Renard, dared broach so delicate a subject with him. Potel, somewhat
disturbed by this open misunderstanding between two heroes of the
Imperial Guard, suggested that Max might be laying a net for the
colonel; he asserted that some new scheme might be looked for from the
man who had got rid of the mother and one brother by making use of
Fario's attack upon him, the particulars of which were now no longer a
mystery. Monsieur Hochon had taken care to reveal the truth of Max's
atrocious accusation to the best people of the town. Thus it happened
that in talking over the situation of the lieutenant-colonel in
relation to Max, and in trying to guess what might spring from their
antagonism, the whole town regarded the two men, from the start, as
adversaries.

Philippe, who had carefully investigated all the circumstances of his
brother's arrest and the antecedents of Gilet and the Rabouilleuse,
was finally brought into rather close relations with Fario, who lived
near him. After studying the Spaniard, Philippe thought he might trust
a man of that quality. The two found their hatred so firm a bond of
union, that Fario put himself at Philippe's disposal, and related all
that he knew about the Knights of Idleness. Philippe promised, in case
he succeeded in obtaining over his uncle the power now exercised by
Gilet, to indemnify Fario for his losses; this bait made the Spaniard
his henchman. Maxence was now face to face with a dangerous foe; he
had, as they say in those parts, some one to handle. Roused by much
gossip and various rumors, the town of Issoudun expected a mortal
combat between the two men, who, we must remark, mutually despised
each other.

One morning, toward the end of November, Philippe met Monsieur Hochon
about twelve o'clock, in the long avenue of Frapesle, and said to
him:--

"I have discovered that your grandsons Baruch and Francois are the
intimate friends of Maxence Gilet. The rascals are mixed up in all the
pranks that are played about this town at night. It was through them
that Maxence knew what was said in your house when my mother and
brother were staying there."

"How did you get proof of such a monstrous thing?"

"I overheard their conversation one night as they were leaving a
drinking-shop. Your grandsons both owe Max more than three thousand
francs. The scoundrel told the lads to try and find out our
intentions; he reminded them that you had once thought of getting
round my uncle by priestcraft, and declared that nobody but you could
guide me; for he thinks, fortunately, that I am nothing more than a
'sabreur.'"

"My grandsons! is it possible?"

"Watch them," said Philippe. "You will see them coming home along the
place Saint-Jean, at two or three o'clock in the morning, as tipsy as
champagne-corks, and in company with Gilet--"

"That's why the scamps keep so sober at home!" cried Monsieur Hochon.

"Fario has told me all about their nocturnal proceedings," resumed
Philippe; "without him, I should never have suspected them. My uncle
is held down under an absolute thraldom, if I may judge by certain
things which the Spaniard has heard Max say to your boys. I suspect
Max and the Rabouilleuse of a scheme to make sure of the fifty
thousand francs' income from the Funds, and then, after pulling that
feather from their pigeon's wing, to run away, I don't know where, and
get married. It is high time to know what is going on under my uncle's
roof, but I don't see how to set about it."

"I will think of it," said the old man.

They separated, for several persons were now approaching.

Never, at any time in his life, did Jean-Jacques suffer as he had done
since the first visit of his nephew Philippe. Flore was terrified by
the presentiment of some evil that threatened Max. Weary of her
master, and fearing that he might live to be very old, since he was
able to bear up under their criminal practices, she formed the very
simple plan of leaving Issoudun and being married to Maxence in Paris,
after obtaining from Jean-Jacques the transfer of the income in the
Funds. The old bachelor, guided, not by any justice to his family, nor
by personal avarice, but solely by his passion, steadily refused to
make the transfer, on the ground that Flore was to be his sole heir.
The unhappy creature knew to what extent Flore loved Max, and he
believed he would be abandoned the moment she was made rich enough to
marry. When Flore, after employing the tenderest cajoleries, was
unable to succeed, she tried rigor; she no longer spoke to her master;
Vedie was sent to wait upon him, and found him in the morning with his
eyes swollen and red with weeping. For a week or more, poor Rouget had
breakfasted alone, and Heaven knows on what food!

The day after Philippe's conversation with Monsieur Hochon, he
determined to pay a second visit to his uncle, whom he found much
changed. Flore stayed beside the old man, speaking tenderly and
looking at him with much affection; she played the comedy so well that
Philippe guessed some immediate danger, merely from the solicitude
thus displayed in his presence. Gilet, whose policy it was to avoid
all collision with Philippe, did not appear. After watching his uncle
and Flore for a time with a discerning eye, the colonel judged that
the time had come to strike his grand blow.

"Adieu, my dear uncle," he said, rising as if to leave the house.

"Oh! don't go yet," cried the old man, who was comforted by Flore's
false tenderness. "Dine with us, Philippe."

"Yes, if you will come and take a walk with me."

"Monsieur is very feeble," interposed Mademoiselle Brazier; "just now
he was unwilling even to go out in the carriage," she added, turning
upon the old man the fixed look with which keepers quell a maniac.

Philippe took Flore by the arm, compelling her to look at him, and
looking at her in return as fixedly as she had just looked at her
victim.

"Tell me, mademoiselle," he said, "is it a fact that my uncle is not
free to take a walk with me?"

"Why, yes he is, monsieur," replied Flore, who was unable to make any
other answer.

"Very well. Come, uncle. Mademoiselle, give him his hat and cane."

"But--he never goes out without me. Do you, monsieur?"

"Yes, Philippe, yes; I always want her--"

"It would be better to take the carriage," said Flore.

"Yes, let us take the carriage," cried the old man, in his anxiety to
make his two tyrants agree.

"Uncle, you will come with me, alone, and on foot, or I shall never
return here; I shall know that the town of Issoudun tells the truth,
when it declares you are under the dominion of Mademoiselle Flore
Brazier. That my uncle should love you, is all very well," he resumed,
holding Flore with a fixed eye; "that you should not love my uncle is
also on the cards; but when it comes to your making him unhappy--halt!
If people want to get hold of an inheritance, they must earn it. Are
you coming, uncle?"

Philippe saw the eyes of the poor imbecile roving from himself to
Flore, in painful hesitation.

"Ha! that's how it is, is it?" resumed the lieutenant-colonel. "Well,
adieu, uncle. Mademoiselle, I kiss your hands."

He turned quickly when he reached the door, and caught Flore in the
act of making a menacing gesture at his uncle.

"Uncle," he said, "if you wish to go with me, I will meet you at your
door in ten minutes: I am now going to see Monsieur Hochon. If you and
I do not take that walk, I shall take upon myself to make some others
walk."

So saying, he went away, and crossed the place Saint-Jean to the
Hochons.

Every one can imagine the scenes which the revelations made by
Philippe to Monsieur Hochon had brought about within that family. At
nine o'clock, old Monsieur Heron, the notary, presented himself with a
bundle of papers, and found a fire in the hall which the old miser,
contrary to all his habits, had ordered to be lighted. Madame Hochon,
already dressed at this unusual hour, was sitting in her armchair at
the corner of the fireplace. The two grandsons, warned the night
before by Adolphine that a storm was gathering about their heads, had
been ordered to stay in the house. Summoned now by Gritte, they were
alarmed at the formal preparations of their grandparents, whose
coldness and anger they had been made to feel in the air for the last
twenty-four hours.

"Don't rise for them," said their grandfather to Monsieur Heron; "you
see before you two miscreants, unworthy of pardon."

"Oh, grandpapa!" said Francois.

"Be silent!" said the old man sternly. "I know of your nocturnal life
and your intimacy with Monsieur Maxence Gilet. But you will meet him
no more at Mere Cognette's at one in the morning; for you will not
leave this house, either of you, until you go to your respective
destinations. Ha! it was you who ruined Fario, was it? you, who have
narrowly escaped the police-courts-- Hold your tongue!" he said,
seeing that Baruch was about to speak. "You both owe money to Monsieur
Maxence Gilet; who, for six years, has paid for your debauchery.
Listen, both of you, to my guardianship accounts; after that, I shall
have more to say. You will see, after these papers are read, whether
you can still trifle with me,--still trifle with family laws by
betraying the secrets of this house, and reporting to a Monsieur
Maxence Gilet what is said and what is done here. For three thousand
francs, you became spies; for ten thousand, you would, no doubt,
become assassins. You did almost kill Madame Bridau; for Monsieur
Gilet knew very well it was Fario who stabbed him when he threw the
crime upon my guest, Monsieur Joseph Bridau. If that jail-bird did so
wicked an act, it was because you told him what Madame Bridau meant to
do. You, my grandsons, the spies of such a man! You, house-breakers
and marauders! Don't you know that your worthy leader killed a poor
young woman, in 1806? I will not have assassins and thieves in my
family. Pack your things; you shall go hang elsewhere!"

The two young men turned white and stiff as plaster casts.

"Read on, Monsieur Heron," said Hochon.

The old notary read the guardianship accounts; from which it appeared
that the net fortune of the two Borniche children amounted to seventy
thousand francs, a sum derived from the dowry of their mother: but
Monsieur Hochon had lent his daughter various large sums, and was now,
as creditor, the owner of a part of the property of his Borniche
grandchildren. The portion coming to Baruch amounted to only twenty
thousand francs.

"Now you are rich," said the old man, "take your money, and go. I
remain master of my own property and that of Madame Hochon, who in
this matter shares all my intentions, and I shall give it to whom I
choose; namely, our dear Adolphine. Yes, we can marry her if we please
to the son of a peer of France, for she will be an heiress."

"A noble fortune!" said Monsieur Heron.

"Monsieur Maxence Gilet will make up this loss to you," said Madame
Hochon.

"Let my hard-saved money go to a scapegrace like you? no, indeed!"
cried Monsieur Hochon.

"Forgive me!" stammered Baruch.

"'Forgive, and I won't do it again,'" sneered the old man, imitating a
child's voice. "If I were to forgive you, and let you out of this
house, you would go and tell Monsieur Maxence what has happened, and
warn him to be on his guard. No, no, my little men. I shall keep my
eye on you, and I have means of knowing what you do. As you behave, so
shall I behave to you. It will be by a long course of good conduct,
not that of a day or a month, but of years, that I shall judge you. I
am strong on my legs, my eyes are good, my health is sound; I hope to
live long enough to see what road you take. Your first move will be to
Paris, where you will study banking under Messieurs Mongenod and Sons.
Ill-luck to you if you don't walk straight; you will be watched. Your
property is in the hand of Messieurs Mongenod; here is a cheque for
the amount. Now then, release me as guardian, and sign the accounts,
and also this receipt," he added, taking the papers from Monsieur
Heron and handing them to Baruch.

"As for you, Francois Hochon, you owe me money instead of having any
to receive," said the old man, looking at his other grandson.
"Monsieur Heron, read his account; it is all clear--perfectly clear."

The reading was done in the midst of perfect stillness.

"You will have six hundred francs a year, and with that you will go to
Poitiers and study law," said the grandfather, when the notary had
finished. "I had a fine life in prospect for you; but now, you must
earn your living as a lawyer. Ah! my young rascals, you have deceived
me for six years; you now know it has taken me but one hour to get
even with you: I have seven-leagued boots."

Just as old Monsieur Heron was preparing to leave with the signed
papers, Gritte announced Colonel Bridau. Madame Hochon left the room,
taking her grandsons with her, that she might, as old Hochon said,
confess them privately and find out what effect this scene had
produced upon them.

Philippe and the old man stood in the embrasure of a window and spoke
in low tones.

"I have been reflecting on the state of your affairs over there," said
Monsieur Hochon pointing to the Rouget house. "I have just had a talk
with Monsieur Heron. The security for the fifty thousand francs a year
from the property in the Funds cannot be sold unless by the owner
himself or some one with a power of attorney from him. Now, since your
arrival here, your uncle has not signed any such power before any
notary; and, as he has not left Issoudun, he can't have signed one
elsewhere. If he attempts to give a power of attorney here, we shall
know it instantly; if he goes away to give one, we shall also know it,
for it will have to be registered, and that excellent Heron has means
of finding it out. Therefore, if Rouget leaves Issoudun, have him
followed, learn where he goes, and we will find a way to discover what
he does."