A Harlot High and Low

by Honoré de Balzac

  The Attorney General’s office is set in an octagonal pavilion which flanks the main body of the Galerie Marchande, on ground recently taken from the prison yard on the side towards the women’s quarters. All that part of the Law Courts is overshadowed by the tall and splendid structure of the Sainte Chapelle. Thus it is gloomy and silent.

  .Monsieur de Granville, worthy successor to the great magistrates of the old High Judicial Court or Parlement, had not intended to leave the Palais without a solution to the case of Lucien. He was waiting for news from Camusot, and the judge’s message plunged him into that vague meditation which waiting causes even the firmest minds. He was sitting in the window embrasure of his office, he got up, paced this way and that, for that morning he had found Camusot, in whose way he had placed himself, somewhat deficient in understanding, he was full of disquiet, he felt uneasy. This is the reason why. The dignity of his position prevented him interfering in any way with the inferior magistrate’s absolute independence, and this case involved the honour, the reputation of his best friend, one of his most zealous protectors, Count Sérisy, minister of State, member of the Privy Council, deputy prime minister, probable future lord chancellor of France, in the event of the death of the noble old man who at present fulfilled those august functions. Monsieur de Sérisy had the misfortune to adore his wife in spite of all, his protection extended to her in all she did. The Attorney General could imagine the frightful rumpus which would be caused in society and at Court by the proven culpability of a man whose name had been so often maliciously linked with that of the countess.

  ‘Ah! ’ he said to himself folding his arms, ‘at one time the royal power allowed for the evocation of special cases… Our mania for equality will be the death of this age…’

  This worthy magistrate knew to what extremes of misfortune an illicit attachment may lead. Esther and Lucien had taken, as we have seen, the apartment in which the Comte de Granville had lived as man and wife secretly with Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille, and from which one fine day she had run away, abducted by the lowest of wretches.

  Just as the Procurator was saying to himself: ‘Camusot will have done something stupid!’ the examining magistrate knocked twice at the door.

  ‘Well! my dear Camusot, how are things going in the matter we talked about this morning?’

  ‘Badly, Monsieur le Comte, read and judge for yourself.’

  He handed the two interrogation reports to Monsieur de Granville who picked up his eyeglasses and took them to read by the window. He read them quickly.

  ‘You’ve done your duty,’ said the Attorney General in a troubled voice. ‘Everything is out, Justice will run its course… You have displayed skill of an order which makes it impossible that one should ever dispense with an examining magistrate like yourself…’

  If Monsieur de Granville had said to Camusot: ‘You will be an examining magistrate all your life!…’ he could hardly have been more explicit than he was in this apparent compliment. Camusot felt his blood run cold.

  ‘Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, to whom I owe so much, had begged me…’

  ‘Ah! the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse,’ said Granville interrupting the judge, ‘it is true, yes, she is a friend of Madame de Sérisy’s. You did not yield to any influence, I can see. You did right; sir, you are a shining light in your profession.’

  Is it too late?

  Aτ that moment, Count Octave de Bauvan opened the door without knocking, and said to Count Granville: ‘My friend, I’ve brought you a pretty woman who didn’t know where to make for, she’d have lost herself in this labyrinth of ours…’

  And Count Octave was holding by the hand Countess Sérisy who, for the past quarter of an hour, had been wandering about the Palais.

  ‘You here, Madame,’ exclaimed the Attorney General bringing his own armchair forward, ‘and at what a moment!… This is Monsieur Camusot, Madame,’ he added indicating the judge. ‘Bauvan’, he went on addressing this celebrated government spokesman of the Restoration, ‘wait for me in the Recorder’s office, he’s still there, I’ll join you presently.’

  Count Octave de Bauvan understood not only that he wasn’t wanted, but also that the Attorney General would be needing an excuse to leave his office.

  Madame de Sérisy had not made the mistake of coming to the Law Courts in her magnificent brougham with its blue armorial mantling, its gold-laced coachman and its two footmen in short breeches and white silk stockings. At the moment of setting out, Asia had made the two great ladies understand that they should go by the hired carriage in which she had come with the duchess; moreover, she had made Lucien’s mistress wear that costume which is, for women, what the sombre cloak once was for men. The countess wore a brown overcoat, an old black shawl and a plush hat from which the flowers had been removed and replaced by a veil of thick black lace.

  ‘You received our letter…’ she said to Camusot whose stupefaction was taken by her as a sign of admiring respect.

  ‘Too late, alas, Madame la Comtesse,’ replied the magistrate whose displays of tact and wit were reserved for prisoners in his office.

  ‘How do you mean, too late?…’

  She looked at Monsieur de Granville and saw the consternation written on his face.

  ‘It cannot, it must not be too late yet,’ she added with the intonation of a despot.

  What women do in Paris

  WOMEN, pretty women of position, such as Madame de Sérisy, are the spoilt children of French civilization. If the women of other countries knew what a fashionable, rich and titled woman is in Paris, they would all think of coming and taking advantage of this splendid queenliness. Women dedicated only to the ties of their position, to that collection of petty laws which we have elsewhere called the Female Code, care little for the laws of men. They say whatever they please, they do not shrink from any fault, any piece of stupidity; for they all know with admirable certainty that they are not responsible for anything in life, except their feminine honour and their children. They utter the greatest enormities with a laugh. In whatever connection, they are likely to repeat what pretty Madame de Bauvan said in the early days of her marriage to her husband whom she had come to see at the Law Courts: ‘Finish judging that case, and come along!’

  ‘Madame,’ said the Attorney General, ‘Monsieur Lucien de Rubempré is guilty neither of theft, nor of poisoning; but Monsieur Camusot has made him admit a crime greater than either of those!…’

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘He has confessed,’ the Procurator said to her in an undertone, ‘to being the friend and pupil of an escaped convict. The abbé Carlos Herrera, the Spaniard with whom he’s been living for the past seven years, turns out to be the famous Jacques Collin…’

  Every word the head of the magistracy spoke was like a blow with an iron bar to Madame de Sérisy; but this notorious name was the last stroke.

  ‘And the moral in all this?…’ she said in a voice which was a mere breath.

  ‘Is,’ went on Monsieur de Granville finishing the countess’s sentence for her and speaking in a low voice, ‘that the convict will appear at assizes, and that if Lucien doesn’t figure beside him as having profited knowingly from this man’s crimes, he will be there as a witness who is gravely compromised…’

  ‘Never, never!…’ she cried out with a remarkable steadiness of purpose. ‘For myself, I should not hesitate between death and the prospect of seeing a man whom everyone knew as my best friend, proclaimed at law the intimate of a convict The King is very fond of my husband.’

  ‘Madame,’ the Attorney General said distinctly with a smile, ‘the King is without the slightest authority over the least examining magistrate in his kingdom or over the deliberations of a Court of Assize. Therein lies the greatness of our new institutions. For myself, I have just congratulated Monsieur Camusot on the ability he has shown…’

  ‘His clumsiness,’ briskly rejoined the countess whom Lucien’s intimacy with a brigand disturbed far less than his lia
ison with Esther.

  ‘If you were to read the interrogations Monsieur Camusot caused the two prisoners to undergo, you would see that all depends on him…’

  After that statement, which was as far as the Attorney General could allow himself to go, and with a glance of feminine or, if you like, judicial nicety, he walked towards the door of his office. Turning at the threshold, he added: ‘Excuse me, Madame! I have a few words to say to Bauvan…’

  In the language of society, what that meant for the countess was: ‘I can’t be a witness to what transpires between you and Camusot.’

  What women are capable of in Paris

  ‘WHAT are these interrogation reports?’ then said Léontine sweetly to Camusot who stood sheepishly before the wife of one of the most important men in the country.

  ‘Madame,’ replied Camusot, ‘a clerk puts down in writing the examining magistrate’s questions and the replies of the prisoners, the report is signed by the clerk, the judge and the prisoner. These reports form the basis of proceedings, they determine the nature of the indictment and the appearance of accused persons before the Court of Assize.’

  ‘Why, then,’ she continued, ‘if one simply destroyed them?…’

  ‘Ah! Madame, that would be a crime which no magistrate would dare commit, a crime against society! ’

  ‘It’s a far greater crime against me to have written them; and, at the moment, this is the only proof against Lucien. Look, read me his report so that we can see whether means cannot be found to save us all. Good God, it doesn’t only concern me, who would deliberately take my own life, but also the happiness of Monsieur de Sérisy.’

  ‘Madame,’ said Camusot, ‘do not imagine that I forgot the consideration I owed you. If Monsieur Popinot, for example, had been in charge of this inquiry, you would have been more unhappy than you are with me; for he wouldn’t have come to consult the Attorney General. Nothing would have been known. But see, Madame, everything was impounded at Monsieur Lucien’s domicile, even your letters…’

  ‘‘Really! my letters! ’

  ‘Here they are, under seal…’ said the magistrate.

  The countess, though troubled, rang as if she’d been at home, and the Procurator’s office messenger entered.

  ‘Light,’ she said.

  The messenger lighted a candle and placed it on the chimneypiece, while the countess identified her letters, counted them, screwed them up and threw them into the fireplace. She then set fire to the heap of paper twisting the last letter and using it as a torch. Camusot stupidly watched the papers burn holding the two records in his hand. The countess, who appeared to be solely occupied with destroying the proofs of her affection, observed the judge from the corner of her eye. She took her time, calculated her movements, and, with the agility of a cat, seized the two documents and cast them into the fire; but Camusot snatched them out, the countess flung herself upon the judge and recaptured the scorched papers. There followed a struggle during which Camusot cried: ‘Madame! Madame! you are attacking the very foundations… Madame…’

  A man appeared suddenly in the office, and the countess could not hold back a cry on recognizing Count Sérisy, followed by Messieurs de Granville and de Bauvan. Nevertheless, Léontine, who meant to save Lucien at all costs, did not let go the fearful stamped paper which she held as if with pincers, although the flames were already singeing her delicate skin. In the end, Camusot, whose own fingers were equally affected by the fire, seemed to be ashamed of the situation, he abandoned the documents; there remained only those fragments, clutched in the hands of the two fighters, which the fire had not caught. The whole scene was over in less time than it takes to read this account of it.

  Present laughter

  ‘WHATEVER is the matter between you and Madame de Sérisy?’ the minister of State asked Camusot.

  Before the magistrate could reply, the countess took the remaining papers to the candle and threw them on to those fragments of her letters which the fire had not yet entirely consumed.

  ‘I shall have to lodge a complaint against Madame la Comtesse,’ said Camusot.

  ‘And what has she done?’ asked the Attorney General looking from one to the other.

  ‘I burned his interrogatories,’ laughingly replied the woman of fashion so pleased with the results of her sudden action that she did not yet feel her burns. ‘If that is a crime, why then! the gentleman can begin his frightful scribbling all over again.’

  ‘That is true,’ replied Camusot attempting to regain his dignity.

  ‘And so everything has turned out for the best,’ said the Attorney General. ‘Only, dear countess, you musn’t often take liberties of that kind with the magistracy, it might forget who you are.’

  ‘Monsieur Camusot put up a stout resistance against a woman whom nobody can resist, the honour of the robe is saved!’ said Count Bauvan with a laugh.

  ‘Ah! Monsieur Camusot resisted?…’ said the Procurator laughing also. ‘That was brave of him, I should never dare resist the countess!’

  At that moment, this serious misdemeanour became a pretty woman’s joke, and even Camusot laughed.

  The Attorney General then perceived that one of the company did not laugh. Justifiably alarmed by the attitude and physiognomy of Count Sérisy, Monsieur de Granville took him on one side.

  ‘My friend,’ he whispered, ‘this is so painful for you that for the first and last time in my life I shall compromise with my duty.’

  The chief magistrate rang, his office messenger came.

  ‘Tell Monsieur de Chargeboeuf to come and speak to me.’

  Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, a young advocate serving his three years’ probation, was the Attorney General’s secretary.

  ‘My dear fellow,’ continued the Procurator drawing Camusot towards the window, ‘go back to your office, call a clerk and reconstitute the interrogation of Father Carlos Herrera which, as it wasn’t signed, may be drawn up again without inconvenience. Tomorrow you’ll be confronting this Spanish diplomatist with Messieurs de Rastignac and Bianchon, who won’t identify him as our Jacques Collin. Sure of being set at liberty, the man will then sign both reports. As for Lucien de Rubempré, let him go this evening, he won’t be the one to speak of an interrogation whose record has been destroyed, especially after I’ve admonished him. The Gazette des Tribunaux will announce in the morning that this young man has been immediately released. Let us think now whether the Law suffers in any way from these measures? If the Spaniard is the convict, we have innumerable ways of bringing him in again, and starting a case against him, for we shall use diplomatic channels to find out what he was up to in Spain; Corentin, the head of counter-espionage, will look after him, we shall keep him in sight at all costs; so treat him well, no more solitary confinement, have him transferred to the pistole tonight… Are we going to kill the count, the countess de Sérisy and Lucien for the theft of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, still pure hypothesis and committed to Lucien’s detriment? wouldn’t it be better to let him lose this sum than to destroy his reputation?… especially since his downfall would also bring down a minister of State, his wife and the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse… That young man is a bruised orange, don’t let him go rotten… This will only take you half an hour. Be off, we’re waiting for you. It is half past three, you will still find judges around, let them know if you can get the matter formally non-suited…, or Lucien will have to be kept here until morning.’

  Camusot bowed and went out; but Madame de Sérisy, who was by now feeling the effects of the fire, did not return his salute. Monsieur de Sérisy, who had left the office suddenly while the Procurator was speaking to the inferior magistrate, came back with a small pot of virgin wax, and dressed his wife’s hands saying in her ear: ‘Léontine, why come here without letting me know?’

  ‘My poor friend!’ she whispered in reply, ‘forgive me, I must seem out of my mind; but it concerned you as much as me.’

  ‘Love this young man, if fate decrees, but don’t displ
ay your passion so clearly to everyone,’ replied the poor husband.

  ‘Come, my dear countess,’ said Monsieur de Granville after speaking for a while with Count Octave, ‘I hope you’ll be able to take Monsieur de Rubempré home to dine with you this evening.’

  This half-promise so affected Madame de Sérisy that she burst into tears.

  ‘I thought I had no tears left,’ she said with a smile. ‘Couldn’t you,’ she went on, ‘have Monsieur de Rubempré come and wait here?…’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find ushers to fetch him, so that he needn’t be accompanied by constables,’ replied Monsieur de Granville.

  ‘You show God’s own kindness!’ she said to the Attorney General with an effusiveness which made her voice sound like celestial music.

  ‘Women like that,’ Count Octave said to himself, ‘are truly delightful, irresistible!…’

  And his mind filled with melancholy as he thought of his wife.

  On his way out, Monsieur de Granville was stopped by young Chargeboeuf, to whom he paused to give instructions as to what he should say to Massol, one of the editors of the Gazette des Tribunaux.