There are women and women!
De Marsay paid sixty thousand francs for Coralie, who is dead now.
The woman you want cost a hundred thousand francs when new; but to you, you old goat, it is a matter of agreement.”
“But vere is she?”
“Ah! you shall see.
I am like you — a gift for a gift!
Oh, my good man, your adored one has been extravagant.
These girls know no moderation.
Your princess is at this moment what we call a fly by night ——”
“A fly ——?”
“Come, come, don’t play the simpleton.
— Louchard is at her heels, and I— I— have lent her fifty thousand francs ——”
“Twenty-fife say!” cried the banker.
“Well, of course, twenty-five for fifty, that is only natural,” replied Asie. “To do the woman justice, she is honesty itself.
She had nothing left but herself, and says she to me:
‘My good Madame Saint–Esteve, the bailiffs are after me; no one can help me but you. Give me twenty thousand francs.
I will pledge my heart to you.’
Oh, she has a sweet heart; no one but me knows where it lies.
Any folly on my part, and I should lose my twenty thousand francs. “Formerly she lived in the Rue Taitbout.
Before leaving —(her furniture was seized for costs — those rascally bailiffs — You know them, you who are one of the great men on the Bourse)— well, before leaving, she is no fool, she let her rooms for two months to an Englishwoman, a splendid creature who had a little thingummy — Rubempre — for a lover, and he was so jealous that he only let her go out at night. But as the furniture is to be seized, the Englishwoman has cut her stick, all the more because she cost too much for a little whipper-snapper like Lucien.”
“You cry up de goots,” said Nucingen.
“Naturally,” said Asie. “I lend to the beauties; and it pays, for you get two commissions for one job.”
Asie was amusing herself by caricaturing the manners of a class of women who are even greedier but more wheedling and mealy-mouthed than the Malay woman, and who put a gloss of the best motives on the trade they ply.
Asie affected to have lost all her illusions, five lovers, and some children, and to have submitted to be robbed by everybody in spite of her experience.
From time to time she exhibited some pawn-tickets, to prove how much bad luck there was in her line of business.
She represented herself as pinched and in debt, and to crown all, she was so undisguisedly hideous that the Baron at last believed her to be all she said she was.
“Vell den, I shall pay the hundert tousant, and vere shall I see her?” said he, with the air of a man who has made up his mind to any sacrifice.
“My fat friend, you shall come this evening — in your carriage, of course — opposite the Gymnase.
It is on the way,” said Asie. “Stop at the corner of the Rue Saint–Barbe.
I will be on the lookout, and we will go and find my mortgaged beauty, with the black hair. — Oh, she has splendid hair, has my mortgage.
If she pulls out her comb, Esther is covered as if it were a pall.
But though you are knowing in arithmetic, you strike me as a muff in other matters; and I advise you to hide the girl safely, for if she is found she will be clapped into Sainte–Pelagie the very next day. — And they are looking for her.”
“Shall it not be possible to get holt of de bills?” said the incorrigible bill-broker.
“The bailiffs have got them — but it is impossible.
The girl has had a passion, and has spent some money left in her hands, which she is now called upon to pay.
By the poker! — a queer thing is a heart of two and-twenty.”
“Ver’ goot, ver’ goot, I shall arrange all dat,” said Nucingen, assuming a cunning look. “It is qvite settled dat I shall protect her.”
“Well, old noodle, it is your business to make her fall in love with you, and you certainly have ample means to buy sham love as good as the real article.
I will place your princess in your keeping; she is bound to stick to you, and after that I don’t care.
— But she is accustomed to luxury and the greatest consideration.
I tell you, my boy, she is quite the lady.
— If not, should I have given her twenty thousand francs?”
“Ver’ goot, it is a pargain.
Till dis efening.”
The Baron repeated the bridal toilet he had already once achieved; but this time, being certain of success, he took a double dose of pillules.
At nine o’clock he found the dreadful woman at the appointed spot, and took her into his carriage.
“Vere to?” said the Baron.
“Where?” echoed Asie. “Rue de la Perle in the Marais — an address for the nonce; for your pearl is in the mud, but you will wash her clean.”
Having reached the spot, the false Madame de Saint–Esteve said to Nucingen with a hideous smile:
“We must go a short way on foot; I am not such a fool as to have given you the right address.”