THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
thousand francs without inconveniencing themselves. She therefore persisted.
“Come, think well,” she said again, to the gaoler. “Do you really know of nobody we might apply to?”
Revertégat, greatly affected, looked at her anxious face. He would rather not have laid bare the unsavoury realities of life before this young creature, full of the hopes of youth.
“No, really,” he replied, “I know of no one. I have spoken to you of old rascals who have shamelessly made large fortunes. They, like Rostand, lend a hundred francs to receive a hundred and fifty at the end of three months.”
He hesitated, and then went on in a lower tone of voice: “Shall I relate to you the history of one of these men? His name is Roumieu, and he’s a retired notary. His game was to prosecute a terrible chase after inheritances. He would introduce himself into families, where his calling should have made him a confidant and friend, and there study the ground and prepare his ambuscades. Whenever he came across a weak-minded person who had property to leave, he became his creature, circumvented him, and drew him gradually into his meshes by obsequiousness and blandishments, by quite a clever comedy of little attentions and filial tenderness. Ah! he was a clever fellow! You should have seen him fascinate his prey, making himself supple and winning, gaining a hold on the affections of some old man. He ousted the natural heirs, the nephews and cousins, by degrees, and then drew up a new will which despoiled them of their relative’s fortune and appointed him sole legatee. But he never hurried matters, he would take ten years to reach his goal, to mature things thoroughly; he advanced with feline craftiness, creeping along in the dark, never springing upon his prey until it lay panting, rendered inert by his gaze and caresses. He hunted inheritances like the tiger hunts game, with noiseless cruelty and a ferocity hidden behind smirks and smiles.”
Fine fancied she was being told a story out of the Arabian Nights. She listened to her uncle, her eyes wide open with astonishment. Marius was becoming familiar with base actions.
“And you say this man made a large fortune?” he asked the gaoler.
“Yes,” the latter replied. “There are some strange stories told which prove Roumieu’s amazing cleverness. For instance, ten or fifteen years ago, he worked his way into the good graces of an old lady who possessed a fortune of close upon five hundred thousand francs. It was quite a conquest. The old lady became his slave, almost to the point of refusing herself a crust of bread in order not to encroach upon the wealth she wished to leave to this demon, who possessed her like a devil and obtained complete mastery over her. She was indeed possessed in the true sense of the word; all the holy water of a church would not have been sufficient to cast him out. A visit from Roumieu would plunge her into endless ecstasy. When he bowed to her in the street it was as though she had received a shock, she became quite red with joy. One has never been able to understand by what flattery, by what skilful and irresistible advance the notary had been able to penetrate so deeply into this heart which was closed by the most exaggerated piety. When the old lady died, she despoiled her direct heirs and left her five hundred thousand francs to Roomier. Everybody expected this would happen.”
After a pause, Revertégat went on:
“Listen, I can give you another instance. The anecdote contains quite a cruel comedy, in which Roumieu gave proof of rare artfulness. A man named Richard, who had amassed several hundred thousand francs in business, retired, and went to live with a worthy couple who nursed him and enlivened his old age. In exchange for their affectionate attentions, the retired merchant had promised to leave them his fortune. They lived on in this expectation; they had several children whom they hoped to establish well in life. But Roumieu happened to pass by, and soon became Richard’s intimate friend; he would take him occasionally into the country, and secretly obtained complete mastery over him. The family which had received the retired merchant suspected nothing; they continued to nurse him and await the inheritance.
“During fifteen years they lived thus, quite easy in their minds, forming plans for the future, and feeling certain of being happy and rich. Richard died, and on the morrow Roumieu was found to have inherited his property, to the great surprise and grief of this family, swindled both in its affections and its interest.
“Such is the hunter after inheritances. When he moves one cannot hear the sound of his claws upon the ground; his bounds are too rapid to be measured: he has already sucked his prey dry before ho has been observed to be upon it.”
Fine felt filled with disgust.
“No, no,” she said, “I will never go and ask money of such a man. Don’t you know another, uncle?”
“All usurers are alike, my poor child,” replied the gaoler; “they all have some indelible stain on their lives. I know an old skinflint who has more than a million, and who lives alone in a dirty tumbledown house. Guillaume buries himself out of sight in his foul den. The damp is rotting the walls; the floor is not even paved, but is a sort of muck-heap consisting of mud and filth; cobwebs hang from the ceiling, the dust lies thick over everything, while a dull lugubrious light penetrates through the windowpanes which are coated thick with dirt. The old miser seems to sleep amidst impurities, like the waiting spider sleeps in the centre of his web on tire beam. When some prey becomes entangled in the nets he has spread, he draws it to him and sucks it dry of its life’s blood. His food consists solely of vegetables cooked in plain water, and he never satisfies his hunger. He clothes himself in rags and leads the life of a leprous beggar. And all this is for the sake of keeping the money he has already accumulated, and of adding unceasingly to his store. He only lends at cent per cent.”
Fine turned pale at the picture her uncle was setting before her.
“Guillaume has friends, however, who extol his piety,” continued the gaoler. “He believes in neither Heaven nor Hell, and would sell the Saviour a second time if he had the opportunity; but he has been clever enough to sham great devoutness, and this piece of acting has won him the esteem of certain narrow minds. He may be met dragging himself about the churches, kneeling behind every pillar, using gallons of holy water.
“Inquire throughout the town, ask anyone what good action this saintly person has ever done. He worships the Almighty, it is said; but he robs his fellow-man. It’s impossible to name a single creature he has ever assisted. He lends at an usurious rate, he has never given a copper in charity. Were some poor wretch to be dying at his door, he wouldn’t take him a crust of bread nor a glass of water. If he enjoys any kind of esteem, it’s because he has stolen it, the same as everything else he possesses.”
Revertégat stopped and looked at his niece, scarcely knowing whether he should continue.
“And you would be simple enough to apply to such a man?” said he at last. “I cannot tell you everything, I cannot speak of his vices, for the old scoundrel has ignoble ones. At times, he forgets his avarice to satisfy his lust. There are shocking stories told of him — “
“Enough!” cried Marius energetically.
Fine, confused and dismayed, bowed her head, having lost all courage and hope.
“I see money is too dear,” the young man resumed, “and that one must sell oneself to obtain it. Ah! if I only had the time to earn the sum we require by hard work!”
Then all three remained silent, unable to find a means of salvation.
CHAPTER XVIII
IN WHICH THERE IS A GLIMMER OF HOPE
THE following morning, Marius, urged on by necessity, decided on calling on M. de Girousse.
He had been thinking of applying to the old Count ever since he had been in search of money, but had always refrained from doing so on account of the nobleman’s original bluntness. He felt ashamed to own his poverty and blushed at the thought of having to confess to what use he proposed putting the amount he was asking for. Nothing seemed more painful to him than to be compelled to take any third party into his confidence in regard to his brother’s escape, and M. de Girousse frightened him more than anyone else.
When