THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
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he exclaimed at last, “what you are telling me is impossible. Bérard has just confided to me that his liabilities amount to a million, and his assets to a million and a half. We shall all be paid in full.”
The clerk held his sides with laughter.
“Ah! Goodness, gracious! How simple you are!” he continued. “Do you really believe in these assets of a million and a half? First of all, they will deduct Madame Bérard’s marriage-portion from the amount. Now, Madame Bérard brought her husband fifty thousand francs, which he, in the marriage contract, transformed into the handsome sum of five hundred thousand francs. That, as you see, was a little robbery of four hundred and fifty thousand francs. There remains a million, and that million is almost entirely represented by suspicious book debts. Oh! the proceeding is simple enough. There are persons at Marseille who sell their signatures for a hundred sou piece; and they live very well at this easy and lucrative business. Bérard had got men of straw to sign him numbers of acceptances, and he pocketed the money which he now pretends he lent to insolvent debtors. If they give you ten per cent, on your claim, you may esteem yourself lucky; and you will only receive that in eighteen months or two years when the assignees of the bankruptcy have concluded their work.” Marius was completely upset. Thus the fifty thousand francs left him by his mother would be useless to him. He wanted money at once and they talked to him of waiting two years. And his ruin and despair were the work of a scoundrel who had just been laughing at him! He flew into a passion.
“This Bérard is a rascal,” he burst out. “He will be vigorously hunted down. Society must be freed of these crafty men who enrich themselves by the ruin of others. The galleys await them.”
The clerk again burst out laughing.
“Bérard,” he continued, “will perhaps get a fortnight’s imprisonment That is all. You don’t seem to understand again? Listen to me.”
The two young men had been standing on the pavement, elbowed by the passersby. They returned into the hall of the banker’s house.
“You say the galleys await Bérard,” continued the clerk. “The galleys only await clumsy folk. During the ten years that our customer has been hatching and nursing his bankruptcy he has taken his precautions; infamy, such as this, is quite a work of art. His accounts are in order, and he has the law on his side. He knew beforehand how slight was the risk he ran. The most the court can do will be to reproach him with heavy personal expenses; they will tax him, besides, with having put a large number of bills of exchange in circulation, which is a ruinous way of procuring money. The penalties for such mistakes are ridiculous. Bérard, as I told you, will get a fortnight, or a month’s imprisonment at the most.”
“But,” exclaimed Marius, “cannot one go and proclaim this man’s crime on the public square, prove it, and have him sentenced?”
“No, indeed! one cannot do that. Proofs are wanting, I tell you. Besides Bérard has not lost his time, he has foreseen everything, he has made powerful friends at Marseille, imagining he would some day have need of their influence. He is now a sort of inviolable personage in this city of coteries: if they touched a single hair of his head all his friends would yell with grief and rage. The most they could do would be to imprison him for form’s sake. When he leaves gaol he will find his little million again, he will make a show of luxury and will easily conquer fresh esteem. You will then meet him driving out in his carriage, extended on his cushions, and the wheels of his vehicle will splash you with mud; you will find him indifferent and idle, with a large establishment, enjoying all the luxuries of life. And to worthily crown this success in the art of robbery, they will bow to him, like him, and open him a new credit of honour and consideration.”
Marius preserved ferocious silence. The clerk made him a slight bow, and was about to leave him.
“It is thus the farce is played,” he added. “I had all that on my heart, and am glad to have met you to ease myself. Now, a piece of advice: keep what I have told you to yourself, say goodbye to your money, and do not bother any more about the sorry business. Reflect and you will see I am right. Goodday.”
Marius remained alone. He had a tremendous desire to rush upstairs to Bérard and slap him in the face. All his instincts of probity and justice had risen up within him, urging him to drag the banker out into the street and proclaim his crime. Then his passion gave way to disgust, he remembered his poor mother shamelessly deceived by this man, and from that moment he felt nothing but crushing contempt for him. He followed the clerk’s advice and left the house, endeavouring to forget that he had had money and that a rascal had robbed him of it.
What the clerk had told him was confirmed in every point. Bérard was sentenced to a month’s imprisonment for simple bankruptcy.
A year afterwards, with florid complexion and easy, insolent bearing, he sauntered about Marseille displaying the jovial humour of a wealthy man. He rang his purse in the clubs, restaurants and theatres, everywhere in fact where pleasure could be purchased, and on his road he invariably met with complaisant persons, or dupes who bowed to him lowly.
CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT IT IS POSSIBLE TO SPEND THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A YEAR WHEN ONLY EARNING EIGHTEEN HUNDRED
MARIUS went mechanically down to the port. He walked straight on without noticing whither he was going. He was, so to say, in a state of stupefaction. One sole thought occupied his otherwise empty brain, and kept repeating in a singsong way that he needed fifteen thousand francs without a moment’s loss of time. He cast about him the vague glance of persons in despair, as though he were looking on the ground to see if he could not find the money he required in the interstices of the paving-stones. Down at the port he felt a longing to be rich. The merchandise piled up along the quays, the ships bringing fortunes in their holds, the noise, the motion of that moneymaking crowd, irritated him. Never before had he felt his poverty so strongly. For a moment he was filled with envy, revolt, and bitter jealousy. He asked himself why he was poor whilst others were rich.
And still that ever-recurring thought kept ringing in his head, fit to break it. Fifteen thousand francs! fifteen thousand francs! His brother was awaiting him, and he could not go back empty-handed. He had only a few hours in which to save him from infamy. But he could form no plan, his bewildered senses did not furnish him with a single practical idea. He turned about in his powerlessness, exerted every effort of his mind in vain, he struggled, almost choking with rage and anguish. He could never ask his employer, M. Martelly, to lend him fifteen thousand francs. His earnings were too small to warrant such a loan. Moreover, he knew the shipowner’s upright principles, and dreaded his reproaches if he admitted to him that he wished to purchase another’s conscience. M. Martelly would at once have refused the money.
Marius suddenly had an idea. He would not stay to discuss it in his mind, but hurried off to his lodging in the Rue Sainte. On the same floor as himself there resided a young clerk, named Charles Blétry, who was employed as collector at the soap-works of Messrs. Date and Deans. A kind of intimacy had sprung up between these two young fellows living side by side. Marius had been won over by Charles’s gentleness; for the latter went regularly to church, led an exemplary life, and appeared to be of the strictest honesty. Yet during the past two years he had been spending money pretty freely. He had refurnished his lodging in a luxurious style, buying carpets, hangings, mirrors, and rich furniture. Besides this, he came home later, lived more expensively; but still remained gentle and honest, quiet and pious.
At first, his neighbour’s outlay rather astonished Marius, who could not understand how a clerk earning eighteen hundred francs a year could afford to purchase such expensive things. But Charles told him that he had inherited some money, and that he intended shortly to resign his position and live on his means. He even placed himself and his purse at his disposal; but Marius declined. Today, he recalled this offer, and was about to knock at the young man’s door and ask him for the means to save his brother. A loan of fifteen thousand francs would not perhaps inconvenience him, seeing how lavishly he was spending his money. He proposed to himself to repay the amount in instalments, persuaded that his neighbour would grant him all the time necessary.