The Chevalier embraced him and caressed him: ‘My dear Le Brun, my dear friend…’
I came nearer and joined my pleadings to the Chevalier’s: ‘Monsieur Le Brun, my good sir…’
Le Brun allowed himself to be persuaded. The servant who was smiling at this dumb show left and then reappeared in the twinkling of an eye with a little man with a limp, dressed in black, a cane in his hand, a stammer, a thin wrinkled face and a sharp eye.
The Chevalier turned to him and said: ‘Come, Monsieur Mathieu de Fourgeot, we have not a moment to lose. Lead the way quickly…’
De Fourgeot did not seem to have heard him and was undoing a little chamois purse.
The Chevalier said to Fourgeot: ‘Don’t be silly, we’ll look after that.’
I came closer and pulled out an écu, which I slipped to the Chevalier, who gave it to the servant girl, passing his hand under her chin. Meanwhile Le Brun said to Fourgeot: ‘I forbid you to do it. You are not to take these gentlemen there.’
‘Monsieur Le Brun, why not?’
‘He is a trickster, a scoundrel.’
‘I am well aware that M. de Merval… but forgive them that trespass… and then he’s the only person I know who’s got any money at the moment.’
LE BRUN: Monsieur Fourgeot, do as you please. Messieurs, I wash my hands of it.
FOURGEOT: Monsieur Le Brun, are you not coming with us?
LE BRUN: Me! God preserve me. He is a traitor and I will never again see him for the rest of my days.
FOURGEOT: But without you we won’t get anything done.
CHEVALIER: That is true. Come along, my dear Le Brun, it is a question of helping me, and it is a question of obliging a gallant man who finds himself in straits. You will not refuse me. You will come.
LE BRUN: Go to the house of a Merval! Me! Me!
CHEVALIER: Yes, you. You will come for me.
Eventually, through our pleadings, Le Brun allowed himself to be borne away, and there we were, him, Le Brun, the Chevalier and Mathieu de Fourgeot on our way, with the Chevalier patting Le Brun’s hand in a friendly manner and saying to me: ‘He is the best of men, the most helpful man in the world, the best acquaintance…’
‘I believe that M. le Chevalier would even persuade me to turn counterfeiter.’
And then there we were at Merval’s house.
JACQUES: Mathieu de Fourgeot…
MASTER: Well! What are you trying to say?
JACQUES: Mathieu de Fourgeot… I mean to say that M. le Chevalier de Saint-Ouin knows these people by name and Christian name and that he is a trickster in league with all these other scoundrels.
MASTER: You may well be right…
You couldn’t meet a man more kind, more civil, more honest, more polite, more human, more tender-hearted or more disinterested than M. de Merval. Having established to his satisfaction that I was not a minor and that I was solvent, M. de Merval looked positively affectionate and sad and said to us in a tone of deep compassion that he was profoundly sorry but he had been obliged that very morning to help one of his friends, pressed by the most urgent needs, and that he was absolutely without funds. Then, turning to me, he added: ‘Monsieur, do not regret not having come here earlier. I would have been distressed to refuse you, but I would have done so. Friendship goes before everything else.’
We were all totally flabbergasted. There were the Chevalier, even Le Brun and Fourgeot, at the knees of Merval.
And M. de Merval said to them: ‘Messieurs, you all know me. I like to oblige people and try not to spoil the services which I render by obliging people to plead for them. But, on my word, as a man of honour, there are not four louis in this house.’
And I, standing in the midst of these people, resembled a patient who has heard his death sentence.
I said to the Chevalier: ‘Chevalier, let us go away since these gentlemen can do nothing.’
And the Chevalier drew me to one side: ‘That is unthinkable. It is the day before her birthday. I have warned her, I tell you, and she is expecting a gallant gesture on your part. You know her. It is not that she is self-interested, but she is like all the others and does not like to be betrayed in her expectations. She may already have boasted to her father, her mother, her aunts, to her friends, and, after all that, to have nothing to show them, that is mortifying…’
And then he went back to Merval and pressed him even harder. Eventually, after letting himself be pestered at some length, Merval said: ‘I have the softest heart in the world. I cannot bear to see people in trouble. I’m mulling things over, I’ve had an idea.’
CHEVALIER: What idea?
MERVAL: Why do you not take some goods?
CHEVALIER: Do you have any?
MERVAL: No, but I know a woman who will give you some, a good woman, an honest woman.
LE BRUN: Yes, who will give us baubles which she will sell to us for their weight in gold, from which we will recover nothing.
MERVAL: Not at all. There will be beautiful cloths, jewels in gold and silver, silks of every kind, pearls, a few precious stones. There will be very little to lose on her goods. She is a good creature who is content with little provided that she is given good security. And these are business goods which cost her very little. Anyway, why don’t you see them? Seeing won’t cost you anything…
I protested to Merval and to the Chevalier that I was not of a rank to engage in trade and that, even if this arrangement was not repugnant to me, my situation would not leave me time to benefit from it.67 The kindly Le Brun and Mathieu de Fourgeot both said at the same time: ‘What does that matter? We will sell for you. It is only half a day’s work…’
And the rendezvous was set for that afternoon at the house of M. de Merval, who tapped me lightly on the shoulder and said in an unctuous and sincere tone of voice: ‘Monsieur, I am delighted to help, but believe me, do not make a habit of borrowing money in this manner. It always ends in ruin. It would be a miracle if you were to find for a second time in this part of the world such honest people to deal with as Messieurs Le Brun and Mathieu de Fourgeot…’
Le Brun and Fourgeot de Mathieu or Mathieu de Fourgeot bowed and thanked him and told him that he was too kind, that they had simply tried until the present to carry on their little business in good faith, and there was no cause to praise them.
‘You are wrong, Messieurs. Tell me, who has a conscience these days? Ask Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint-Ouin, who knows what I am talking about…’
And then there we were on our way out of Merval’s house when he shouted to us from the top of the stairs to ask if he could count on us and summon his tradeswoman. We told him that he could and the four of us went off to have lunch in a neighbouring inn to pass the time until the appointment.
Mathieu de Fourgeot ordered lunch and ordered well. At dessert two street girls came over to our table with their hurdy-gurdys. Le Brun had them sit down. They were given something to drink, and encouraged to chatter and play. While my three guests were amusing themselves in teasing one of them, her friend, who was sitting next to me, said to me quietly: ‘Monsieur, you are in very bad company here. There is not one of these people here whose name isn’t on police files.’
We left the inn at the appointed hour and went to Merval’s house. I forgot to tell you that our lunch had emptied the Chevalier’s purse and my own and on the way there Le Brun told the Chevalier, who repeated it to me, that Mathieu de Fourgeot would require six louis for his commission, which was the least that one could give him, and that if he was satisfied with us we would have the goods at a better price and would easily recover this sum on their sale.
There we were again at Merval’s house, where his merchant lady had arrived before us with her goods. Mademoiselle Bridoie, for that was her name, overwhelmed us with politeness and curtseys and then laid out before us her materials, cloths, laces, rings, diamonds and gold boxes. We took something of everything. It was Le Brun, Mathieu de Fourgeot and the Chevalier who fixed the prices of the goods, and Merval wrote them
down. The total came to nineteen thousand, seven hundred and seventy-five pounds, for which sum I was about to make out my note when Mlle Bridoie curtseyed to me – because she never said anything without curtseying: ‘Monsieur, do you intend to pay your notes when they fall due?’
‘Of course,’ I answered.
‘In that case,’ she replied, ‘it makes no difference to you whether you give me a note or a bill of exchange…’
The word ‘bill of exchange’ made me turn pale. The Chevalier noticed and said to Mlle Bridoie: ‘Bills of exchange, Mademoiselle! But bills of exchange circulate and there is no telling in whose hands they might end up.’
‘You are joking, Monsieur le Chevalier. One does have some idea of the respect due to persons of your rank…’ And then she curtseyed… ‘One keeps this sort of document in one’s wallet and only produces it on the due date. Here, look…’
And then another curtsey… and she took her wallet out of her pocket and read out a multitude of names of every state and condition.
The Chevalier had come over to me and said: ‘Bills of exchange! That is all devilish serious. Consider what it is you are going to do. This woman seems honest to me, and then before it falls due you will be in funds, or I will be.
JACQUES: And you signed the bills of exchange?
MASTER: That is correct.
JACQUES: It is the custom of fathers when their children leave for the capital to preach them a little sermon. Do not frequent bad company, make yourself liked by your superiors through your assiduity to fulfil your duties, don’t forget your religion, avoid girls of bad character and sharpsters, and above all never sign bills of exchange.68
MASTER: Well, what do you expect? I did the same as everyone else. The first thing I forgot was my father’s lesson. There I was, well stocked in goods for sale, but it was money we needed. There were a few pairs of lace cuffs which were very beautiful. The Chevalier took some at cost price and said: ‘There, that is already one part of your purchase on which you will lose nothing.’
Mathieu de Fourgeot took a watch and two gold boxes for which he was going to give me cash immediately. Le Brun took everything else on sale or return at his house. I put a superb set of jewels into my pocket along with the lace cuffs. It was one of the flowers in the bouquet which I was going to present. Mathieu de Fourgeot returned in the twinkling of an eye with sixty louis. He kept ten for himself and I took the fifty remaining. He told me that he had sold neither the watch nor the two boxes but that he’d pawned them.
JACQUES: Pawned them?
MASTER: Yes.
JACQUES: I know where…
MASTER: Where?
JACQUES: With the lady with the curtseys, la Bridoie.
MASTER: True. With the pair of lace cuffs and the rest of the set of jewels I also took a pretty ring and a gold plated box. I had fifty louis in my purse, and we were, the Chevalier and I, in the utmost good spirits.
JACQUES: That’s all very well. There’s only one thing in all this which intrigues me. That is the disinterestedness of M. Le Brun. Didn’t he have any part of the spoils?
MASTER: Come along, Jacques, you are joking. You do not know M. Le Brun. I suggested to him that I should reward his good offices. He got angry with me and replied that I apparently took him for a Mathieu de Fourgeot, and that he had never asked for anything.
‘Good old Monsieur Le Brun,’ exclaimed the Chevalier, ‘he’s always the same. We would be embarrassed if you were more honest than us…’
And straight away he took out from amongst our merchandise two dozen handkerchiefs and a piece of muslin, which he asked him to accept for his wife and daughter. Le Brun started to contemplate the handkerchiefs which appeared so beautiful to him, the muslin which he found so fine. It was offered to him with such good grace and he had so close at hand the opportunity to repay our kindness through the sale of the goods which remained in his hands that he allowed himself to be won over. And then we were gone, going as fast as our carriage would take us towards the home of her whom I loved and for whom the set of jewels, the lace cuffs and the ring were destined. The present worked like magic. She was charming and tried on the set of jewels and the lace cuffs straight away. The ring seemed to have been made for her finger. We dined merrily as you can well imagine.
JACQUES: And you slept there?
MASTER: No.
JACQUES: It was the Chevalier, then?
MASTER: I believe so.
JACQUES: At the pace you were being led, your fifty louis did not last very long.
MASTER: No. At the end of a week or so we returned to Le Brun to see what the rest of our goods had produced.
JACQUES: Nothing or hardly anything. Le Brun was sad and spoke out against Merval and the lady with the curtseys and called them thieves, scoundrels, rogues, swore all over again never to have anything more to do with them and paid you seven to eight hundred francs.
MASTER: More or less. Eight hundred and seventy pounds.
JACQUES: If I know how to count at all – eight hundred and seventy pounds from Le Brun, fifty louis from Merval or de Fourgeot, the set of jewels, the lace cuffs and the ring, say another fifty louis, and that is what you recovered from your nineteen thousand seven hundred and seventy three pounds worth of goods. Heavens, that is honest. Merval was right. It’s not every day one deals with such worthy people.
MASTER: You are forgetting the lace cuffs taken at cost price by the Chevalier.
JACQUES: That is because the Chevalier never mentioned them to you.
MASTER: Exactly. And the two gold watches and the watch pawned by Mathieu, you haven’t mentioned them.
JACQUES: That is because I don’t know what to say.
MASTER: Meanwhile the date of payment of the bills of exchange came.
JACQUES: And neither your funds nor the Chevalier’s arrived.
MASTER: I was obliged to hide myself. My parents were informed. One of my uncles came to Paris. He sent a statement against all these rogues to the police. This statement was sent to a clerk and this clerk was a paid protector of Merval. They replied that since the matter was a civil case the police could do nothing. The pawnbroker to whom Mathieu had entrusted the two boxes issued a summons against Mathieu. I became involved in the action. The court costs were so enormous that after the sale of the watch and the boxes there still remained five or six hundred francs to pay.
You don’t believe that, do you, Reader? But if I told you that an innkeeper in my neighbourhood died a short time ago and left two poor infant children. The bailiff went to the deceased’s house and had the place sealed. Then the seals were removed, an inventory was made, and a sale took place. The sale produced nine hundred francs. Out of these nine hundred francs, after the costs of justice had been deducted, there remained two sous for each orphan, which they put into each child’s hand and then led them both to the workhouse.
MASTER: That’s horrifying.
JACQUES: And it’s still going on.
MASTER: My father died while all this was going on. I paid off all the bills of exchange and came out of my retreat, and to give credit to the Chevalier and my lady-friend I must admit that they kept me more or less faithful company.
JACQUES: And there you were, just as struck on the Chevalier and your girlfriend keeping you on an even tighter rein.
MASTER: Why so, Jacques?
JACQUES: Why? Because, being the master of your own person, and the possessor of an honest fortune, they had to make a complete fool of you, a husband.
MASTER: Indeed, I think that was their project, but they didn’t succeed.
JACQUES: You were very lucky, or they were very clumsy.
MASTER: It seems to me that your voice is less hoarse and you are speaking more freely.
JACQUES: It may seem so to you, but that is not the case.
MASTER: Could you not continue with the story of your loves?
JACQUES: No.
MASTER: Then is it your wish that I should continue with the story of my o
wn?
JACQUES: It is my wish to stop here for a moment and raise the gourd.
MASTER: What! With your sore throat, you’ve filled your gourd?
JACQUES: Yes, but by all the devils that ever were, it’s tisane. So I have no inspiration, I am a fool, and for as long as there is nothing but tisane in the gourd, I will remain a fool.
MASTER: What are you doing?
JACQUES: I am pouring the tisane away. I am afraid it will bring us bad luck.
MASTER: You’re mad.
JACQUES: Wise or mad, I’m not leaving a drop in this gourd.
While Jacques was emptying out his gourd his master looked at his watch, opened his snuff-box, and prepared to continue the story of his loves. But, as for me, Reader, I am tempted to shut his mouth by showing him, in the distance, either an old soldier on a horse, his back stooped, coming towards them rapidly, or a young peasant girl, wearing a little straw hat and red petticoats, going her way on foot, or on a donkey. And why shouldn’t this old soldier be Jacques’ Captain or his Captain’s friend?
– But he’s dead!
You think so? And why shouldn’t the young peasant girl be Suzon or Marguerite, or the hostess of the Grand-Cerf, or mother Jeanne, or even Denise, her daughter? A novelist wouldn’t miss such an opportunity, but I don’t like novels – except Richardson’s. I am writing history: either this story will be interesting or it won’t be interesting, but that is the least of my worries. My project is to be truthful and I have fulfilled it. So I will not have brother Jean return from Lisbon. That fat prior coming towards us in a gig with a pretty young lady sitting beside him will not be Father Hudson.
Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master Page 26
