THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
What simplicity, good heavens! It was there he had thought to obtain the fifteen thousand francs which were to save Philippe, and he had been waiting an hour for the banker to turn him out like a beggar. Or else Rostand would demand fifty per cent interest and rob him impudently. At that thought, and with the knowledge that there was there, close to him, a meeting of rascals who throve on the shame and misfortunes of a town, he jumped up and laid his hand on the door-handle. One could hear the clink of gold within the room.
The usurers were dividing their spoil. Each one was pocketing his share of a month’s swindling. That money, which they were counting and whose music voluptuously titillated their flesh, seemed at times to sob aloud amidst the quivering silence, broken only by the banker’s voice uttering figures with metallic harshness. He calculated each one’s share, named an amount and let fall a pile of jingling coins.
Marius turned the handle, and, with pale face and resolute gaze, stood a few seconds silent in the doorway.
The young man had a strange spectacle before him. Rostand was standing at his table; behind him was an open safe from which he took handful of gold. Around the table were seated the members of the black band, some awaiting their share, others pocketing the money they had just received. Every minute, the banker consulted his accounts, examining a ledger, and doled out the money with a careful hand. His confederates were watching his movements.
At the sound of the opening door, all the heads turned quickly round with fright. And, when they beheld Marius, grave and indignant, they instinctively closed their fingers on their heaps of gold.
For a moment all was confusion and apprehension. The young man recognised the wretches perfectly. He had met them in the streets with heads erect and dignified miens, and he had even bowed to some who might have saved his brother. They were all wealthy, esteemed, and influential; there were among them ex-government officials, landed proprietors, and persons who frequented the churches and drawingrooms of the town. To see them thus, cringing and paling beneath his gaze, he could not restrain a movement of disgust.
Rostand rushed forward, his eyes blinking feverishly, his thick discoloured lips trembling, all his miser’s red and wrinkled face expressing a sort of scared surprise.
“What do you want?” he asked Marius stammering. “You have no right to walk into a house in this manner.”
“I wanted fifteen thousand francs,” replied the young man, in a cold and scoffing tone of voice.
“I’ve no money,” the usurer hastened to say, retreating to the door of his safe.
“Oh! be easy, I no longer wish to be robbed. I must tell you that I’ve been waiting an hour on the other side of the door and have heard all you’ve been saying.”
This statement came like the blow of a club, and caused the members of the black band to bow their heads. These men had still some slight feeling of respectability left, and there were some who hid their faces in their hands. Rostand, having no reputation to lose, gradually recovered himself. He again went up to Marius, and raised his voice.
“Who are you?” he cried. “By what right do you come into my house listening at doors? Why do you come into my private office, if you have nothing to ask of me?”
“Who am I?” said the young man, in a calm, quiet tone, “I am an honest man and you are a rascal. By what right did I listen at this door? By the right that respectable people have of unmasking scoundrels. Why have I come in here? Simply to tell you that you are a villain.”
Rostand was trembling with rage. He could not account for the presence of this avenger who thus told him the truth to his face. He was about to shout out, to fall upon Marius, when the latter energetically motioned him back.
“Keep quiet,” he resumed. “I am going, I am stifling here. But I would not go without relieving my feelings a bit. Ah! gentlemen, you have a voracious appetite. You gluttonously share among you the tears and despair of entire families; you gorge yourselves with robbery and swindling. I am glad to be able to trouble your digestion a trifle and to make you shiver with anxiety.”
Rostand attempted to stop him, but he continued in a louder tone of voice:
“Highwaymen possess at least courage. They fight and risk their lives. But you, gentlemen, you rob shamelessly in secret. And to think that it was not necessary for you to become swindlers to live! You are every one of you well-to-do. You behave like scoundrels, heaven forgive me! for pleasure!”
Some of the usurers rose menacingly.
“You’ve never before seen the anger of an honest man, have you?” added Marius, scoffingly. “Truth both annoys and frightens you. You’re accustomed to be treated with the respect due to decent people, and, as you have arranged to hide your baseness and to live esteemed by all, you have ended by yourselves believing in the respect accorded to your hypocrisy. Well! I’ve chosen that for once in your lives you should be insulted as you deserve, and that’s why I entered here.”
The young men saw that they would fall upon him if he went on. He retreated step by step towards the door, keeping the usurers at bay by the firmness of his gaze. Once there, he stopped again.
“I know very well, gentlemen,” he said, “that I cannot bring you to the bar of human justice. Your wealth, your influence, and your skill render you inviolable. If I were foolish enough to fight against you, it is I, no doubt, who would be crushed. But, anyhow, I shall not have to reproach myself with having been in the company of such men as you without having shown them my contempt. I would that my words were red-hot irons that would brand you on your faces. The crowd would follow you with its howls, and perhaps the lesson would do you good. Share your gold: if there’s an atom of honesty left in you, it will burn your hands.”
Marius closed the door and went off. When he reached the street, he smiled sadly. He saw life spread out before him in all its shame and wretchedness, and perceived he was performing the noble and ridiculous part of a Don Quixote of justice and honour.
CHAPTER XVII
TWO SHAMELESS CHARACTERS
WHEN Marius had related his adventure to the gaoler and flower-girl, the latter exclaimed:
“We’re no better off than we were! Why did you lose your temper? That man might have lent you the money.”
Women possess a certain obstinacy which renders the feminine conscience easier; therefore Fine, loyal girl though she was, would perhaps have closed her ears at Rostand’s, or even have made use of the secrets chance placed in her possession. Revertégat felt rather ashamed at having advised Marius to go to the banker.
“I warned you, sir,” he said; “I was aware of the rumours afloat about the man; but I thought a great deal was said out of spite. Had I known the real truth I would never have sent you to him.”
Marius and Fine spent the afternoon in forming extravagant plans, in cudgelling their brains in vain for a means of obtaining the fifteen thousand francs necessary for Philippe’s safety.
“What!” exclaimed the young woman, “can’t we find in all this town some kind soul willing to help us out of our trouble? Are there no rich people here who would lend their money at a reasonable rate? Come, uncle, think a bit. Tell me of some benevolent person whom I may go and plead to on my knees.”
Revertégat shook his head.
“Well, yes!” he replied, “there are worthy people here, rich folk who would perhaps assist you. But you have no claim on their bounty, you can’t go and ask them for money right off. You must apply to money-lenders or bill-discounters, and, as you’ve no solid security to offer, you’re obliged to deal with usurers. Oh! I know some old misers, old rascals who’d be delighted to have you in their clutches, or else would chuck you out like dangerous beggars.”
As Fine listened to her uncle, all these money questions got rather mixed in her young head. She was so frank, so openhearted, that it seemed to her quite natural and easy