disease is curable."
"If you cure her, Philippe Bridau will die of rage," said Desroches.
"I am going to draw up a statement of the condition in which we have
found his wife. He has not brought her before the courts as an
adulteress, and
therefore her rights as a wife are
intact: he shall
have the shame of a suit. But first, we must remove the Comtesse de
Brambourg to the private hospital of Doctor Dubois, in the rue du
Faubourg-Saint-Denis. She will be well cared for there. Then I will
summon the count for the
restoration of the conjugal home."
"Bravo, Desroches!" cried Bixiou. "What a pleasure to do so much good
that will make some people feel so badly!"
Ten minutes later, Bianchon came down and joined them.
"I am going straight to Despleins," he said. "He can save the woman by
an operation. Ah! he will take good care of the case, for her abuse of
liquor has developed a
magnificent disease which was thought to be
lost."
"Wag of a mangler! Isn't there but one disease in life?" cried Bixiou.
But Bianchon was already out of sight, so great was his haste to tell
Despleins the wonderful news. Two hours later, Joseph's
miserablesister-in-law was removed to the
decent hospital established by Doctor
Dubois, which was afterward bought of him by the city of Paris. Three
weeks later, the "Hospital Gazette" published an
account of one of the
boldest operations of modern
surgery, on a case designated by the
initials "F. B." The patient died,--more from the
exhaustion produced
by
misery and
starvation than from the effects of the treatment.
No sooner did this occur, than the Comte de Brambourg went, in deep
mourning, to call on the Comte de Soulanges, and inform him of the sad
loss he had just sustained. Soon after, it was whispered about in the
fashionable world that the Comte de Soulanges would
shortly marry his
daughter to a parvenu of great merit, who was about to be appointed
brigadier-general and receive command of a
regiment of the Royal
Guard. De Marsay told this news to Eugene de Rastignac, as they were
supping together at the Rocher de Cancale, where Bixiou happened to
be.
"It shall not take place!" said the witty artist to himself.
Among the many old friends whom Philippe now refused to recognize,
there were some, like Giroudeau, who were
unable to revenge
themselves; but it happened that he had wounded Bixiou, who, thanks to
his
brilliant qualities, was everywhere received, and who never
forgave an
insult. One day at the Rocher de Cancale, before a number
of well-bred persons who were supping there, Philippe had replied to
Bixiou, who spoke of visiting him at the hotel de Brambourg: "You can
come and see me when you are made a minister."
"Am I to turn Protestant before I can visit you?" said Bixiou,
pretending to
misunderstand the speech; but he said to himself, "You
may be Goliath, but I have got my sling, and plenty of stones."
The next day he went to an actor, who was one of his friends, and
metamorphosed himself, by the all-powerful aid of dress, into a
secularized
priest with green
spectacles; then he took a
carriage and
drove to the hotel de Soulanges. Received by the count, on sending in
a message that he wanted to speak with him on a matter of serious
importance, he
related in a feigned voice the whole story of the dead
countess, the secret particulars of whose
horrible death had been
confided to him by Bianchon; the history of Agathe's death; the
history of old Rouget's death, of which the Comte de Brambourg had
openly boasted; the history of Madame Descoings's death; the history
of the theft from the newspaper; and the history of Philippe's private
morals during his early days.
"Monsieur le comte, don't give him your daughter until you have made
every
inquiry; interrogate his former comrades,--Bixiou, Giroudeau,
and others."
Three months later, the Comte de Brambourg gave a supper to du Tillet,
Nucingen, Eugene de Rastignac, Maxime de Trailles, and Henri de
Marsay. The amphitryon accepted with much nonchalance the half-
consolatory condolences they made to him as to his rupture with the
house of Soulanges.
"You can do better," said Maxime de Trailles.
"How much money must a man have to marry a demoiselle de Grandlieu?"
asked Philippe of de Marsay.
"You? They wouldn't give you the ugliest of the six for less than ten
millions," answered de Marsay insolently.
"Bah!" said Rastignac. "With an
income of two hundred thousand francs
you can have Mademoiselle de Langeais, the daughter of the marquis;
she is thirty years old, and ugly, and she hasn't a sou; that ought to
suit you."