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The Two Brothers-Part27_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Jacques.



At the words, the long-drawn face of the poor creature lost its

cadaverous tints, the smile of a Theriaki flickered on his pendent



lips; but he was seized with another fit of coughing; for the joy of

being taken back to favor excited as violent an emotion as the



punishment itself. Flore rose, pulled a little cashmere shawl from her

own shoulders, and tied it round the old man's throat, exclaiming:



"How silly to put yourself in such a way about nothing. There, you old

goose, that will do you good; it has been next my heart--"



"What a good creature!" said Rouget to Max, while Flore went to fetch

a black velvet cap to cover the nearly bald head of the old bachelor.



"As good as she is beautiful"; answered Max, "but she is quick-

tempered, like all people who carry their hearts in their hands."



The baldness of this sketch may displease some, who will think the

flashes of Flore's character belong to the sort of realism which a



painter ought to leave in shadow. Well! this scene, played again and

again with shocking variations, is, in its coarse way and its horrible



veracity, the type of such scenes played by women on whatever rung of

the social ladder they are perched, when any interest, no matter what,



draws them from their own line of obedience and induces them to grasp

at power. In their eyes, as in those of politicians, all means to an



end are justifiable. Between Flore Brazier and a duchess, between a

duchess and the richest bourgeoise, between a bourgeoise and the most



luxuriously kept mistress, there are no differences except those of

the education they have received, and the surroundings in which they



live. The pouting of a fine lady is the same thing as the violence of

a Rabouilleuse. At all levels, bitter sayings, ironical jests, cold



contempt, hypocritical complaints, false quarrels, win as much success

as the low outbursts of this Madame Everard of Issoudun.



Max began to relate, with much humor, the tale of Fario and his

barrow, which made the old man laugh. Vedie and Kouski, who came to



listen, exploded in the kitchen, and as to Flore, she laughed

convulsively. After breakfast, while Jean-Jacques read the newspapers



(for they subscribed to the "Constitutionel" and the "Pandore"), Max

carried Flore to his own quarters.



"Are you quite sure he has not made any other will since the one in

which he left the property to you?"



"He hasn't anything to write with," she answered.

"He might have dictated it to some notary," said Max; "we must look



out for that. Therefore it is well to be cordial to the Bridaus, and

at the same time endeavor to turn those mortgages into money. The



notaries will be only too glad to make the transfers; it is grist to

their mill. The Funds are going up; we shall conquer Spain, and



deliver Ferdinand VII. and the Cortez, and then they will be above

par. You and I could make a good thing out of it by putting the old



fellow's seven hundred and fifty thousand francs into the Funds at

eighty-nine. Only you must try to get it done in your name; it will be



so much secured anyhow."

"A capital idea!" said Flore.



"And as there will be an income of fifty thousand francs from eight

hundred and ninety thousand, we must make him borrow one hundred and



forty thousand francs for two years, to be paid back in two

instalments. In two years, we shall get one hundred thousand francs IN



Paris, and ninety thousand here, and risk nothing."

"If it were not for you, my handsome Max, what would become of me



now?" she said.

"Oh! to-morrow night at Mere Cognette's, after I have seen the



Parisians, I shall find a way to make the Hochons themselves get rid

of them."



"Ah! what a head you've got, my angel! You are a love of a man."

The place Saint-Jean is at the centre of a long street called at the



upper end the rue Grand Narette, and at the lower the rue Petite

Narette. The word "Narette" is used in Berry to express the same lay



of the land as the Genoese word "salita" indicates,--that is to say, a

steep street. The Grand Narette rises rapidly from the place Saint-



Jean to the port Vilatte. The house of old Monsieur Hochon is exactly

opposite that of Jean-Jacques Rouget. From the windows of the room



where Madame Hochon usually sat, it was easy to see what went on at

the Rouget household, and vice versa, when the curtains were drawn



back or the doors were left open. The Hochon house was like the Rouget

house, and the two were doubtless built by the same architect.



Monsieur Hochon, formerly tax-collector at Selles in Berry, born,

however, at Issoudun, had returned to his native place and married the



sister of the sub-delegate, the gay Lousteau, exchanging his office at

Selles for another of the same kind at Issoudun. Having retired before



1787, he escaped the dangers of the Revolution, to whose principles,

however, he firmly adhered, like all other "honest men" who howl with






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