Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 36, Number 99, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 August 1904 — THE MISER'S DAUGHTER [ARTICLE]

THE MISER'S DAUGHTER

By HONRE DE BALZAC

CHAPTER XXI. —(Continued.) **P. B.—l inclose a check for eight thousand franca, payable in gold to your •rder, comprising the capital and interest •f th* sum you were so kind as to advance me. I am expecting a case from Bordeaux which contains a few things ■which you must allow me to send you as a token of my unceasing gratitude. You •an eend my dressing case by the diligence to the Hotel d'Aubrion.” “By the dillngence!” cried Eugenie, ‘**wben I would have given my life for It a thousand times!” Terrible and complete shipwreck of hope; the vessel had gone down, there was not a spar, not a plank in the vast Ocean. She raised her eyes to the sky. There was nothing left to her now but to live prayerfully till the day of her deliverance should come and tho soul spread its wings for heaven. “My mother was right,” she said, weeping. “Suffer —and die.” She went slowly into the house, avoid--tng the passage; but when she came into the old gray parlor, it was full of memories of her cousin. On the chimneypiece there atood a certain china saucer, * which he had used every morning, and Jihe old Sevres Bugar basin. Jf_ -awes to be a memorahle and eventual day for Eugenie. Nanon announced :the cure. He was related to the Cru•hots, and therefore in the interests of the *President de Bonfons. For some ;days past the Abbe had urged the cure !f© speak seriously to Mile. Gr&ndet about >the duty of marriage. Eugenie fancied that he had come for the thousand francs which she gave him every month 'for the poor, and sent Nanou for the Money; bnt the curate began with a •mile. "To-day, mademoiselle, I have «ome to take counsel with you about a poor girl in whom all Saumhr takes an Interest, and who, through lack of charity to herself, is not living as a Christian should.” “M. ie Cure, just now I can think of nobody but myself. I am very misera;hle, my only refuge is iu the church; her heart is large enough to hold all human sorrows, her love so inexhaustible that .We need never fear to drain it dry.” “Well, mademoiselle, when we speak of this girl, we shall speak of you. Listoe! If you would fain work out your salvation,' there are but two ways open to you; you must either leave the world W live in the world and submit to its !|awt—you must choose between the .earthly and the heavenly vocation." “Ah! your voice speaks to me when 9 need to hear a voice. Yes, heaven has sent you to me. I will bid the world fart well, and live in silence and seclusion.” “But, mv daughter, you should think Seng and prayerfully before taking so strong a measure. Marriage is life, and the convent is death.” “Yes, death.- Ah, if death would only <ene quickly, M. le Cure,” she said, with dreadful eagerness. “Death? But you have great obligations to fulfill toward society, mademoi.selle. There is your family of poor, to iwhom you give clothes and firing in Minster and work in summer. Your great .fortune is a loan, of which you must 'give an account one day. You have always looked on it as a sacred trust. It j would be selfish to bury yourself in a ♦onvent, and you ought not to live alone Ife the world. Iu the first place, how can ,yon endure the burden of your vast fortnne alone? Y'ou might lose it You will be involved in endless litigation; you will find yourself in difficulties from which you will not be able to extricate yourself.. Take your pastor's word, a husband is useful; you ought not to lose what God has givens unto your charge. I •peak to you as a cherished lamb of my hock. You love God too sincerely to had hindrance to your salvation in the world; yon are one of its fairest orna■oents, and should remain in it as an example of holiness.” At this point Mme. des Grassins was announced. The banker's wife was amaitlng under a grievous disappointment and thirsted for revenge. “Mademoiselle——” she began. “Oh! U. le Cure is here—l will say no more, thea. I came to speak about some matters of business, but I see you are deep Is something else ” “Madame,” said the cure, “I leave the field to you." “Oh! M. le Cure, pray come back •gain; I stand in great need of your help jBSt now.”

“Yes, indeed, my poor child!" said Mmt. des Grassins. “What do you mean?" asked Eugeni* nd the cure both together. “Do you suppose that I haven’t heard that your cousin has come back and is gttng to marry Mile. d’Anbrlon? A woman doesn't go about with her wite in %tr pocket.” CHAPTER XXII. Eogenie was silent, there was a red fart on her face, but she made up her '■feed at once that henceforward no one dbeulri learn anything from her, und Jacked aa impenetrable as her father wed to do. “Well, mndame," she said, with a -flag* of bitterness in her tones, "it seems fast I, at any rate, carry my wits in my • *«e**t, for I am quite at a loss to understand you. Speak out and explain geanelf.” “Well, then, mademoiselle, see for VMirself what des Grassins says. Here k the letter.” Eogenie read: “My Dear Wife—Charles Grandet has seturasd from the Indies, and has been fa Paris these two months ” “Two months!” said Eugenie to herwa&t, and bar hand fell to her side. After • moment she went on reading: “I had to dance attendance on him, md called twice before the future Comte WAubrion would condescend to see me. AM Paris ia talking about his marriage, Md the banna are published ft j “And he wrote to me after that?” Eafcenle said to heraelf. She did not round eff the sentence aa a Pariaienue would fcrre done, with “Wretch that ha la!" tat her acorn was not one whit the leu because it wee unexpressed. —"but It will be a good while yet befm he marries; It ia not likely that the ■Cereals d’Aubrion will give his dough-

ter to the son of a bankrupt wine merchant. I called and told him of all the trouble we had been at, his uncle aud I, in the matter of his father’s failure, and of our clever dodges that had kept the creditors quiet so far. The insolent puppy had the effrontery to say to me that his father's affairs were not his! There is something that he does owe, however, and that the law shall make him pay,, that is to say, twelve hundred thousand francs to his father’s creditors, and I shall declare his father bankrupt. I mixed myself up in this affair on the word of that old crocodile of a Graudet, aud I have given promises in the numo of the family. M. le Comte d’Aubrion may not care for his honor, but I care a good deal for mine! So I shall just explain my position to the creditors. Still, I have too much respect for Mile. Eugenie to take any steps before you have spoken to her •” There Eugenie paused, and quietly returned the letter. “I am obliged to you,” she said to Mme.-des Grassins. “We shall see ” “Your voice was exactly like your father’s just then,” exclaimed Mme. des Grassins. Mile. Grandet went up to her father's room and spent the day there by herself; she would not even come down to dinner, though Nanon begged and scolded. She appeared in the evening at the hour when the usual company began to arrive. The gray parlor in the. Grandets’ house had uever been so well fillet) as it was that night. Every soul in, the town knew by that time of Charles’ faithlessness and ingratitude; but their inquisitive curiosity was not to be gratified. Eugenie was a little late, but no one saw any traces of the cruel agitation through which she had passed; she could smile benignly in reply to compassionate looks and words. About 9 o'clock the card players drew aw r ay from the tables. Just as there was a general move iu the direction of the door, an unexpected development took place; the news of it rang through Saumur for days after. “Please stay, M. le President.” There was not a person in the room who did not thrill with excitement at tiie words; M. de Bonfons, who was about to take his cane, turned quite white and sat down again. “The President takes the millions,” said Mile, de Gribeaucourt. “It is quite clear that President de Bonfons is going to marry Mile. Grandet,” cried Mme. d’Orsonval. “M. le President,” Eugenie began, in an unsteady voice, as soon as they were alone, “I know what you care about in me. Swear to leave me free till the end of my life, to claim none of the rights which marriage will give you over me, and my hand is yours. Oh!” she said, seeing him about to fall on his knees, “I have not finished yet I must tell you frankly that there are memories in my heart which can never be effaced; that friendship is all that I can give my husband; I wish neither to affront him nor to be disloyal to my own heart. But you shall only have my hand and fortune at the price of an immense service w lildb' I want you to do me.” “Anything, I will do anything,” said the president. “Here are fifteen hundred thousand francs, M. le President,” she said, drawing from her bodice a certificate for a hundred shares in the Bank of France; “will you set out for Paris? You must not even wait till the morning, but go at once, to-night. Y'ou must go straight to M. des Grassins, ask him for a list of my uncle’s creditors, call them togethr er end discharge all outstanding claimsupou Guillaume Grandet’s estate. Let the creditors have capital aud interest at 5 per cent from the day the debts wero contracted to the present time; and see that in every case a receipt in full is given. You are a magistrate, you are the only person whom 1 feel I can trust in such a case You are a gentleman and a man of honor; you have given me your word, and, protected by your name, I will make the perilous voyage of life. We shall know how tp make allowances for each other, for we have been acquainted so long that it is almost as if we were related, and I am sure you would not wish to make me unhappy.” The president fell on his knees at the feet of the rich heiress in a paroxysm of joy. “I will be your slave!” he said. “When all the receipts are in jour possession, sir,” she went on, looking quietly at him, "you must take them, together with the bills, to my cousin Grandet, and give them to him with this letter. When you come back, I will keep my word.” The president understood the state of affairs perfectly well. “Sho is accepting me out of pique.” lie thought, and he hastened to do Mile. Grandet’s bidding with all possible 6peed, for fear some chance might bring about a reconciliation between the lovers. CHAPTER XXIII. As soon as M. de Bonfons left her Eugenie sank into her chair and burst into tears. All was over, and this was the end. The president traveled post to Paris and reached his journey’s end on the following evening; The next morning he went to des Grassins, and arranged for a meeting of the creditors. Everyman of them appeared. M. de Bonfons, in Mile. Grandet’s name, paid down the money in full, both capital and interest. It was an amazing portent, a nine days’ wonder in the business world of Paris. After the whole affair had been wound up, and when des Grassins bed received fifty thousand francs for his services, ths president betook himself to the Hotel d’Aubrion, and was lucky enough to find Charles at boms, and in disgrace with his future father-in-law. The old marquis had just Informed that gentleman that as til Galllaume Grandet’s creditors wers satisfied a marriage with his daughter was net to be thought of. To Charles, thus despondent, the president delivered ths following letter: “Dear Cousin —M. le President de Bonfons has undertaken to hand you a discharge of all claims against my uncle’s estate. I heard rumors of bank-

ruptcy, and It occurred to me that difficulties might possibly arise as a consequence in the matter of your marriage with Mile. d’Aubrion. Yes, cousin, you are quite right about my tastes and manners; I have lived, as you say, so entirely out of the world, that I know nothing of its ways or its calculations, and my companionship could never make up to you for the loss of the pleasures that you look to find in society. I hope that you will be happy according to the social conventions to which you have sacrificed your early love. The only thing iu my power to give you to complete your happiness is your father’s good name. Farewell; you will always find a faithful friend in your cousin. “EUGENIE.” In spite of himself an exclamation broke from the man of social ambitions when his eyes fell on the discharge aud receipts. The president smiled. “We can each announce our marriage,” said he. “Oh! you are to marry Eugenie! Well. I am glad to hear it; she is a kindhearted girl. Why!" struck with a sudden luminous idea, “she must be rich?” “Four days ago she had about nineteen millions,” the president said, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes; “today she has only seventeen.” Charles was dumfounded; he stared at the president. “Seventeen mil ” i “Seventeen millions. Yes, sit; when we are married Mile. Grandet and I shall muster seven hundred and fifty thousand livres a year between us.” “My dear cousin,” said Charles, with some return of assurance, “we shall be able to push each other’s fortuue.” “Certainly,” said the president. “There is something else here,” he added, “a little case that I was to give only into your hands,” and he set down a box containing the dressing case upon the table. The door opened, and in came Mme. la Marquise d’Aubrion; the great lady seemed to be unaware of Cruchot’s existence. “Look here, dear!” she said; “never mind what that absurd M. d’Aubrion has been saying to you. I repeat it, there is nothing to prevent your marriage —” “Nothing, madame,” answered Charles. “The three millions which my father owed were paid yesterday, capital and interest. I mean to rehabilitate his memory.” “What nonsense!” cried his mother-in-law. “Who is this person?” she asked in Charles’ ear, as she saw Cruchot for the first time. . “My man of business,” he answered in a low voice. The Marquise gave M. de Bonfons a disdainful bow, and left the room. “We are beginning to push each other’s fortune already,” said the president, dryly, as he took up his hat. “Good day, cousin." "The old cockatoo from Saumur is laughing at me; I have a great mind to make him swallow six inches of cold steel,” thought. Charles. But the president had departed. CHAPTER XXIV. Three days later M. de Bonfons was back in Saumur again, and announced hie marriage with Eugenie. After about six months he received his appointment as councilor to the court at Angers, and they went thither. But before Eugenie left Saumur she melted down the trinkets that had long been so sacred and so dear a trust, and gave them, together with the eight thousand francs which her cousin had returned to her, to the parish church, whither she had gone so often to pray for him. Henceforward her lifs was spent partly at Angers, partly at Saumur. Her husband's devotion to the government at a political crisis was rewarded; he was made First President. Then he awaited a general election with impatience; he Had visions of a place in the government; he had dreams of a peerage; and then, and then “Then he would call cousins with the king, I suppose?” said Nanon. Yet.t after all, none of these ambitious dreams was to be realized, and the name of M. de Bonfons was to undergo no further transformation. He died only eight days after his appointment as deputy of Saumur. Mme. de Bonfons was left a widow three years after her marriage, with an income of eight hundred thousand livres. She was beautiful still, with the beauty of a woman nearly forty yeats of age. Her face was very pale and quiet, with a tinge of sadness iu the low tones of her voice. She had simple manmrs, all the dignity of one who had passed through great sorrows, and the saintliness of a soul unspotted by the world; and, no less, the rigidness of an old maid, the little penurious ways and narrow Ideas of a dull country town. Although she had eight hundred llvrea a year, she lived just as she used to do in the days of stinted allowances of fuel and food while she was still Eugenie Grandet, the fire never lighted in the parlor before or after the datee fixed by her father, all the regulations in force in the days of her girlhood still adhered to. She dressed as her mother did. That cold, sunless, dreary house, always overshadowed by the dark ramparts, was like her own life. k She looked carefully after her affairs; her wealth accumulated from year to year; perhaps she might have been called parsimonious, if it were not for the uoble use she made of her fortune. Various pious and charitable institutions, almshouses and orphan asylums, a richly endowed public library, and donations to various churches in Saumur, are a sufficient answer to the charge of avarice which some few people have brought ngainst her. They sometimes spoke of her in joke as mademoiselle, but, in fact, people stood somewhat in awe of Mme. de Bonfons. It was as if she,, whose heart went out so readily to others, was always to be the victim of their interested calculations; as if for all warmth and brightness in her life she was to find only the pale glitter of metal. “No one loves me but you,” she would sometimes say to Nanon. Yet her hands were always ready to bind tli* wonnds that other eyes did not see, In any house; aud her way to Heaven was one long succession of kindness aad good deeds. The real greatness of her soul had risen above the cramping in-* flnences of her early life. And this is the life history of a woman who dwelt in tho world, yet not of It, a woman so grandly fitted to be a wife and mother, bnt who Had neither husband nor children nor kindred. v (The end.)