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The Marriage Contract-Part17_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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served, for Mathias took supper. The old man was not a little



astonished, when Paul joined him, to see that his old client's brow

was calm and his face serene, though noticeably changed. If at the age



of thirty-three the Comte de Manerville seemed to be a man of forty,

that change in his appearance was due solely to mental shocks;



physically, he was well. He clasped the old man's hand affectionately,

and forced him not to rise, saying:--



"Dear, kind Maitre Mathias, you, too, have had your troubles."

"Mine were natural troubles, Monsieur le comte; but yours--"



"We will talk of that presently, while we sup."

"If I had not a son in the magistracy, and a daughter married," said



the good old man, "you would have found in old Mathias, believe me,

Monsieur le comte, something better than mere hospitality. Why have



you come to Bordeaux at the very moment when posters are on all the

walls of the seizure of your farms at Grassol and Guadet, the vineyard



of Belle-Rose and the family mansion? I cannot tell you the grief I

feel at the sight of those placards,--I, who for forty years nursed



that property as if it belonged to me; I, who bought it for your

mother when I was only third clerk to Monsieur Chesnau, my



predecessor, and wrote the deeds myself in my best round hand; I, who

have those titles now in my successor's office; I, who have known you



since you were so high"; and the old man stopped to put his hand near

the ground. "Ah! a man must have been a notary for forty-one years and



a half to know the sort of grief I feel to see my name exposed before

the face of Israel in those announcements of the seizure and sale of



the property. When I pass through the streets and see men reading

these horrible yellow posters, I am ashamed, as if my own honor and



ruin were concerned. Some fools will stand there and read them aloud

expressly to draw other fools about them--and what imbecile remarks



they make! As if a man were not master of his own property! Your

father ran through two fortunes before he made the one he left you;



and you wouldn't be a Manerville if you didn't do likewise. Besides,

seizures of real estate have a whole section of the Code to



themselves; they are expected and provided for; you are in a position

recognized by the law.--If I were not an old man with white hair, I



would thrash those fools I hear reading aloud in the streets such an

abomination as this," added the worthy notary, taking up a paper; "'At



the request of Dame Natalie Evangelista, wife of Paul-Francois-Joseph,

Comte de Manerville, separated from him as to worldly goods and



chattels by the Lower court of the department of the Seine--'"

"Yes, and now separated in body," said Paul.



"Ah!" exclaimed the old man.

"Oh! against my wife's will," added the count, hastily. "I was forced



to deceive her; she did not know that I was leaving her."

"You have left her?"



"My passage is taken; I sail for Calcutta on the 'Belle-Amelie.'"

"Two day's hence!" cried the notary. "Then, Monsieur le comte, we



shall never meet again."

"You are only seventy-three, my dear Mathias, and you have the gout,



the brevet of old age. When I return I shall find you still afoot.

Your good head and heart will be as sound as ever, and you will help



me to reconstruct what is now a shakenedifice. I intend to make a

noble fortune in seven years. I shall be only forty on my return. All



is still possible at that age."

"You?" said Mathias, with a gesture of amazement,--you, Monsieur le



comte, to undertakecommerce! How can you even think of it?"

"I am no longer Monsieur le comte, dear Mathias. My passage is taken



under the name of Camille, one of my mother's baptismal names. I have

acquirements which will enable me to make my fortune otherwise than in



business. Commerce, at any rate, will be only my final chance. I start

with a sum in hand sufficient for the redemption of my future on a



large scale."

"Where is that money?"



"A friend is to send it to me."

The old man dropped his fork as he heard the word "friend," not in



surprise, not scoffingly, but in grief; his look and manner expressed

the pain he felt in finding Paul under the influence of a deceitful



illusion; his practised eye fathomed a gulf where the count saw

nothing but solid ground.



"I have been fifty years in the notariat," he said, "and I never yet

knew a ruined man whose friend would lend him money."



"You don't know de Marsay. I am certain that he has sold out some of

his investments already, and to-morrow you will receive from him a






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