CHAPTER V

      DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY

      MARIUS had returned to M. Martelly’s and resumed his duties, finding a sort of peacefulness in his work. His thoughts ran freer amidst the silence and calm of his office. He told himself that he had four months in which to come to Philippe’s assistance, and he would reflect for hours together as to the best means to be employed.

      M. Martelly continued to treat him as he would a son.

      Sometimes the young man thought of telling him everything and of borrowing the fifteen thousand francs of him. But a fear, a timidity prevented him; he dreaded his employer’s republican sternness. So he resolved to continue the struggle, to exhaust all possible means before applying to the shipowner. Later on, when he had unsuccessfully tried everything else, he would make up his mind to tell him of his difficulty and implore his kind assistance.

      Meanwhile, he determined he would not again behave like a simpleton and take any useless step. For a moment, he thought of earning the necessary amount himself. The high figure frightened him, and he saw very well that he could never put by such a sum in four months. Yet he felt bold enough to move mountains.

      It recurred to him that Douglas, the notary whose aid M. Martelly had vainly asked for Philippe, had for some months past been offering to employ him as agent, acting under power of attorney for some of his clients. The notary and the shipowner were connected in various business matters, and M. Martelly often sent Marius to settle different accounts with Douglas. One day, on calling there, the young man decided to accept the offer that had been made him: if the profits were small, he might, when he had become better known, succeed in obtaining a loan.

      The notary lived in a house of simple and austere appearance. The offices occupied the entire first floor; there was quite a crowd of clerks seated along stained deal tables, in the large cold bare rooms. Luxury had never penetrated into those rooms full of prodigious activity and a kind of honest roughness. One felt oneself to be in the abode of a man who never forgot himself amid the joys of life.

      About ten years before, Douglas had succeeded to the practice of a person named Imbert, whose clerk he had been for more than twelve years. He was then an intelligent and active young fellow, with a passion for business, and ever dreaming of monster speculations. The fever for trade and manufacture that was passing over France heated his blood and filled him with strong ambition; he wished to earn vast sums of money, not in order to live in opulence, but because he tasted a keen voluptuousness in unravelling all monetary matters, and in guiding the undertakings he embarked upon to success. At the outset he felt himself too restricted in his notary’s practice. He was a born banker, and his hands were formed for manipulating large sums of money. His profession, with its quiet dealings and almost sacred and paternal character, did not in the least suit his stock-jobbing nature. He felt out of his element, for all his instincts urged him to turn the money deposited with him to account. He could not reconcile himself to being a disinterested intermediary, and he launched into panting and feverish speculations, which later on turned him into a great criminal.

      He paid the purchase money of his practice in a few months, without anyone knowing how he had obtained the necessary capital. Then he displayed febrile activity. In a very short time his practice developed considerably. He became the first notary of Marseille, opening his doors wide and securing fresh clients every day. His mode of proceeding was extremely simple: he never denied himself to any client, and listened to every application; he always found money for those who wanted to borrow, and always had excellent investments for those who deposited their cash with him. A considerable turnover of capital thus took place through the intermediary of his office.

      At first, people were surprised at his rapid success. They talked of imprudence, and considered that the young notary was going too quickly ahead, and was undertaking a burden too heavy for his shoulders. Besides this, no one could make out how he managed to meet the calls occasioned by the continual increase of his practice. But Douglas calmed public anxiety by the simplicity of his life. He was believed to be very wealthy, yet he dressed quietly, displayed not the slightest luxury, and denied himself all pleasures. Everyone knew that he led a sober existence, eating only plain food, living, in fact, like a petty shopkeeper. He was also very pious, gave a great deal in charity, went to church and remained kneeling during the whole length of the service. By these means he acquired the reputation of an honest man, and this went on increasing daily. He came to be cited at last as a model of piety and honour. His name was respected and beloved.

      It had taken him barely six years to arrive at this position; and now, during six years he had been at the head of the Marseille notaries: his office was the most frequented, and the one that did the most business. Wealthy people made a point of employing this modest and pious man endowed with every virtue. The nobility and clergy supported him; the commercial world had ended by feeling unlimited confidence in his loyalty. The position was won, and Douglas was feverishly turning it to account.

      He was then about forty-five years old, a strong, thickset man, inclined to stoutness. His face, always cleanshaven, was deathly pale; the flesh seemed inanimate, the eyes alone showing signs of life. He looked like a verger turned banker. Beneath his gentle exterior, one could hear a kind of muffled roar: no doubt the blood was coursing fiercely in this struggler’s body which seemed asleep. When he conversed in his drawling tones, his voice occasionally rose to a pitch which revealed the internal fever consuming him. He was always to be found in his private room, a cold apartment, poorly furnished. There was generally a priest or a nun in the antechamber. The door was left open and it was easy for anyone to find the chief. He displayed his charity, contempt for luxury, and austere goodnature even rather too complacently.

      Marius felt a real sympathy for this man whose simple virtues quite won his heart. He delighted in calling upon him. On this particular day, after discussing with Douglas the business upon which M. Martelly had sent him, the young man added, hesitatingly:

      “I wish now, sir, to speak to you on a private matter, only, I am afraid I may be trespassing on your time.”

      “Not at all! my dear friend,” said the notary cordially, “I am quite at your service. I have already offered you my assistance, and my house is open to you.”

      “I remember your kind offers, and I wish to remind you of what you said to me some months ago.”

      “I told you that it only rested with yourself to earn some money with me. I should like to assist a young fellow