I seemed to see the shade of my mother, and to hear her voice. What power was it that made my own name ring vaguely in my ears, in spite of the clamor of bells?
"The money paid down for my island, when all my debts were discharged, left me in possession of two thousand francs.
I could now have returned to the scholar's tranquil life, it is true; I could have gone back to my garret after having gained an experience of life, with my head filled with the results of extensive observation, and with a certain sort of reputation attaching to me.
But Foedora's hold upon her victim was not relaxed.
We often met.
I compelled her admirers to sound my name in her ears, by dint of astonishing them with my cleverness and success, with my horses and equipages.
It all found her impassive and uninterested; so did an ugly phrase of Rastignac's, 'He is killing himself for you.'
"I charged the world at large with my revenge, but I was not happy.
While I was fathoming the miry depths of life, I only recognized the more keenly at all times the happiness of reciprocal affection; it was a shadow that I followed through all that befell me in my extravagance, and in my wildest moments.
It was my misfortune to be deceived in my fairest beliefs, to be punished by ingratitude for benefiting others, and to receive uncounted pleasures as the reward of my errors—a sinister doctrine, but a true one for the prodigal!
"The contagious leprosy of Foedora's vanity had taken hold of me at last.
I probed my soul, and found it cankered and rotten.
I bore the marks of the devil's claw upon my forehead.
It was impossible to me thenceforward to do without the incessant agitation of a life fraught with danger at every moment, or to dispense with the execrable refinements of luxury.
If I had possessed millions, I should still have gambled, reveled, and racketed about.
I wished never to be alone with myself, and I must have false friends and courtesans, wine and good cheer to distract me.
The ties that attach a man to family life had been permanently broken for me.
I had become a galley-slave of pleasure, and must accomplish my destiny of suicide.
During the last days of my prosperity, I spent every night in the most incredible excesses; but every morning death cast me back upon life again.
I would have taken a conflagration with as little concern as any man with a life annuity.
However, I at last found myself alone with a twenty-franc piece; I bethought me then of Rastignac's luck——
"Eh, eh!——" Raphael exclaimed, interrupting himself, as he remembered the talisman and drew it from his pocket.
Perhaps he was wearied by the long day's strain, and had no more strength left wherewith to pilot his head through the seas of wine and punch; or perhaps, exasperated by this symbol of his own existence, the torrent of his own eloquence gradually overwhelmed him. Raphael became excited and elated and like one completely deprived of reason.
"The devil take death!" he shouted, brandishing the skin;
"I mean to live!
I am rich, I have every virtue; nothing will withstand me.
Who would not be generous, when everything is in his power?
Aha!
Aha!
I wished for two hundred thousand livres a year, and I shall have them.
Bow down before me, all of you, wallowing on the carpets like swine in the mire!
You all belong to me—a precious property truly!
I am rich; I could buy you all, even the deputy snoring over there.
Scum of society, give me your benediction!
I am the Pope."
Raphael's vociferations had been hitherto drowned by a thorough-bass of snores, but now they became suddenly audible.
Most of the sleepers started up with a cry, saw the cause of the disturbance on his feet, tottering uncertainly, and cursed him in concert for a drunken brawler.
"Silence!" shouted Raphael.
"Back to your kennels, you dogs!
Emile, I have riches, I will give you Havana cigars!"
"I am listening," the poet replied.
"Death or Foedora!
On with you!
That silky Foedora deceived you.
Women are all daughters of Eve.
There is nothing dramatic about that rigmarole of yours."
"Ah, but you were sleeping, slyboots."
"No—'Death or Foedora!'—I have it!"
"Wake up!" Raphael shouted, beating Emile with the piece of shagreen as if he meant to draw electric fluid out of it.
"Tonnerre!" said Emile, springing up and flinging his arms round Raphael; "my friend, remember the sort of women you are with."