"Nothing should be wasted," answered Grandet, rousing himself from his reverie. He saw a perspective of eight millions in three years, and he was sailing along that sheet of gold. "Let us go to bed. I will bid my nephew good-night for the rest of you, and see if he will take anything."Madame Grandet remained on the landing of the first storey to hear the conversation that was about to take place between the goodman and his nephew. Eugenie, bolder than her mother, went up two stairs.
"Well, nephew, you are in trouble. Yes, weep, that's natural. A father is a father; but we must bear our troubles patiently. I am a good uncle to you, remember that. Come, take courage! Will you have a little glass of wine?" (Wine costs nothing in Saumur, and they offer it as tea is offered in China.) "Why!" added Grandet, "you have got no light! That's bad, very bad; you ought to see what you are about," and he walked to the chimney-piece. "What's this?" he cried. "A wax candle! How the devil did they filch a wax candle? The spendthrifts would tear down the ceilings of my house to boil the fellow's eggs."Hearing these words, mother and daughter slipped back into their rooms and burrowed in their beds, with the celerity of frightened mice getting back to their holes.
"Madame Grandet, have you found a mine?" said the man, coming into the chamber of his wife.
"My friend, wait; I am saying my prayers," said the poor mother in a trembling voice.
"The devil take your good God!" growled Grandet in reply.
Misers have no belief in a future life; the present is their all in all. This thought casts a terrible light upon our present epoch, in which, far more than at any former period, money sways the laws and politics and morals. Institutions, books, men, and dogmas, all conspire to undermine belief in a future life,--a belief upon which the social edifice has rested for eighteen hundred years. The grave, as a means of transition, is little feared in our day. The future, which once opened to us beyond the requiems, has now been imported into the present. To obtain /per fas et nefas/ a terrestrial paradise of luxury and earthly enjoyment, to harden the heart and macerate the body for the sake of fleeting possessions, as the martyrs once suffered all things to reach eternal joys, this is now the universal thought--a thought written everywhere, even in the very laws which ask of the legislator, "What do you pay?" instead of asking him, "What do you think?" When this doctrine has passed down from the bourgeoisie to the populace, where will this country be?
"Madame Grandet, have you done?" asked the old man.
"My friend, I am praying for you."
"Very good! Good-night; to-morrow morning we will have a talk."The poor woman went to sleep like a schoolboy who, not having learned his lessons, knows he will see his master's angry face on the morrow.
At the moment when, filled with fear, she was drawing the sheet above her head that she might stifle hearing, Eugenie, in her night-gown and with naked feet, ran to her side and kissed her brow.
"Oh! my good mother," she said, "to-morrow I will tell him it was I.""No; he would send you to Noyers. Leave me to manage it; he cannot eat me.""Do you hear, mamma?"
"What?"
"/He/ is weeping still."
"Go to bed, my daughter; you will take cold in your feet: the floor is damp."*****
Thus passed the solemn day which was destined to weight upon the whole life of the rich and poor heiress, whose sleep was never again to be so calm, nor yet so pure, as it had been up to this moment. It often happens that certain actions of human life seem, literally speaking, improbable, though actual. Is not this because we constantly omit to turn the stream of psychological light upon our impulsive determinations, and fail to explain the subtile reasons, mysteriously conceived in our minds, which impelled them? Perhaps Eugenie's deep passion should be analyzed in its most delicate fibres; for it became, scoffers might say, a malady which influenced her whole existence.
Many people prefer to deny results rather than estimate the force of ties and links and bonds, which secretly join one fact to another in the moral order. Here, therefore, Eugenie's past life will offer to observers of human nature an explanation of her ***** want of reflection and the suddenness of the emotions which overflowed her soul. The more tranquil her life had been, the more vivid was her womanly pity, the more ******-minded were the sentiments now developed in her soul.
Made restless by the events of the day, she woke at intervals to listen to her cousin, thinking she heard the sighs which still echoed in her heart. Sometimes she saw him dying of his trouble, sometimes she dreamed that he fainted from hunger. Towards morning she was certain that she heard a startling cry. She dressed at once and ran, in the dawning light, with a swift foot to her cousin's chamber, the door of which he had left open. The candle had burned down to the socket. Charles, overcome by nature, was sleeping, dressed and sitting in an armchair beside the bed, on which his head rested; he dreamed as men dream on an empty stomach. Eugenie might weep at her ease; she might admire the young and handsome face blotted with grief, the eyes swollen with weeping, that seemed, sleeping as they were, to well forth tears. Charles felt sympathetically the young girl's presence;he opened his eyes and saw her pitying him.
"Pardon me, my cousin," he said, evidently not knowing the hour nor the place in which he found himself.
"There are hearts who hear you, cousin, and /we/ thought you might need something. You should go to bed; you tire yourself by sitting thus.""That is true."
"Well, then, adieu!"
