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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 miserable

sister-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."




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