Not you.
You will make two hundred thousand francs again by some stroke of business.
With your capital and your brains you should be able to accumulate as large a fortune as you could wish. ERGO, in six months you will have made your own fortune, and our old friend Vautrin’s, and made an amiable woman very happy, to say nothing of your people at home, who must blow on their fingers to warm them, in the winter, for lack of firewood.
You need not be surprised at my proposal, nor at the demand I make.
Forty-seven out of every sixty great matches here in Paris are made after just such a bargain as this.
The Chamber of Notaries compels my gentleman to —”
“What must I do?” said Rastignac, eagerly interrupting Vautrin’s speech.
“Next to nothing,” returned the other, with a slight involuntary movement, the suppressed exultation of the angler when he feels a bite at the end of his line.
“Follow me carefully!
The heart of a girl whose life is wretched and unhappy is a sponge that will thirstily absorb love; a dry sponge that swells at the first drop of sentiment.
If you pay court to a young girl whose existence is a compound of loneliness, despair, and poverty, and who has no suspicion that she will come into a fortune, good Lord! it is quint and quatorze at piquet; it is knowing the numbers of the lottery before-hand; it is speculating in the funds when you have news from a sure source; it is building up a marriage on an indestructible foundation.
The girl may come in for millions, and she will fling them, as if they were so many pebbles, at your feet.
‘Take it, my beloved!
Take it, Alfred, Adolphe, Eugene!’ or whoever it was that showed his sense by sacrificing himself for her.
And as for sacrificing himself, this is how I understand it. You sell a coat that is getting shabby, so that you can take her to the Cadran bleu, treat her to mushrooms on toast, and then go to the Ambigu-Comique in the evening; you pawn your watch to buy her a shawl.
I need not remind you of the fiddle-faddle sentimentality that goes down so well with all women; you spill a few drops of water on your stationery, for instance; those are the tears you shed while far away from her. You look to me as if you were perfectly acquainted with the argot of the heart.
Paris, you see, is like a forest in the New World, where you have to deal with a score of varieties of savages — Illinois and Hurons, who live on the proceed of their social hunting.
You are a hunter of millions; you set your snares; you use lures and nets; there are many ways of hunting.
Some hunt heiresses, others a legacy; some fish for souls, yet others sell their clients, bound hand and foot.
Every one who comes back from the chase with his game-bag well filled meets with a warm welcome in good society.
In justice to this hospitable part of the world, it must be said that you have to do with the most easy and good-natured of great cities.
If the proud aristocracies of the rest of Europe refuse admittance among their ranks to a disreputable millionaire, Paris stretches out a hand to him, goes to his banquets, eats his dinners, and hobnobs with his infamy.”
“But where is such a girl to be found?” asked Eugene.
“Under your eyes; she is yours already.”
“Mlle. Victorine?”
“Precisely.”
“And what was that you said?”
“She is in love with you already, your little Baronne de Rastignac!”
“She has not a penny,” Eugene continued, much mystified.
“Ah! now we are coming to it!
Just another word or two, and it will all be clear enough.
Her father, Taillefer, is an old scoundrel; it is said that he murdered one of his friends at the time of the Revolution.
He is one of your comedians that sets up to have opinions of his own.
He is a banker — senior partner in the house of Frederic Taillefer and Company.
He has one son, and means to leave all he has to the boy, to the prejudice of Victorine.
For my part, I don’t like to see injustice of this sort.
I am like Don Quixote, I have a fancy for defending the weak against the strong.
If it should please God to take that youth away from him, Taillefer would have only his daughter left; he would want to leave his money to some one or other; an absurd notion, but it is only human nature, and he is not likely to have any more children, as I know.
Victorine is gentle and amiable; she will soon twist her father round her fingers, and set his head spinning like a German top by plying him with sentiment!
She will be too much touched by your devotion to forget you; you will marry her.
I mean to play Providence for you, and Providence is to do my will.
I have a friend whom I have attached closely to myself, a colonel in the Army of the Loire, who has just been transferred into the garde royale.
He has taken my advice and turned ultra-royalist; he is not one of those fools who never change their opinions.
Of all pieces of advice, my cherub, I would give you this — don’t stick to your opinions any more than to your words.
If any one asks you for them, let him have them — at a price.
A man who prides himself on going in a straight line through life is an idiot who believes in infallibility.
There are no such things as principles; there are only events, and there are no laws but those of expediency: a man of talent accepts events and the circumstances in which he finds himself, and turns everything to his own ends.
If laws and principles were fixed and invariable, nations would not change them as readily as we change our shirts.
The individual is not obliged to be more particular than the nation.
A man whose services to France have been of the very slightest is a fetich looked on with superstitious awe because he has always seen everything in red; but he is good, at the most, to be put into the Museum of Arts and Crafts, among the automatic machines, and labeled La Fayette; while the prince at whom everybody flings a stone, the man who despises humanity so much that he spits as many oaths as he is asked for in the face of humanity, saved France from being torn in pieces at the Congress of Vienna; and they who should have given him laurels fling mud at him.