Saccard had no idea she was there; he shrugged to show his indifference, but Jantrou sniggered, refusing to believe in this lack of interest. The two men shook hands with some vigour.
When he was alone again Saccard instinctively went over to the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, where no hint of white was yet visible. All the same, he had not been lying, women had not been on his mind at all since he had been totally caught up again in business matters; and he was only indulging in that instinctive Gallic gallantry that means a man in France cannot find himself alone with a woman without fearing to be thought a fool if he doesn’t make a conquest. As soon as he had let the Baroness in he made a great fuss of her.
‘Madame, pray, do sit down…’
Never had he seen her looking so strangely alluring, with her red lips, her burning eyes with the bruised lids, deep-set beneath thick eyebrows. What could she want of him? And he was surprised, almost disappointed, when she explained the purpose of her visit.
‘Ah Monsieur, I do apologize for disturbing you, and to so little purpose as far as you are concerned, but people of our social circle have to help each other out in these little matters… Until recently you had a chef, whom my husband is now about to engage. So I’ve come simply to ask for some information about him.’
So he allowed her to question him, answering in the most obliging way without ever taking his eyes off her, for he thought he could guess that this was just a pretext: she didn’t care in the least about the chef, she had clearly come for something else. And indeed, she organized the conversation in such a way as to bring in the name of a mutual friend, the Marquis de Bohain, who had spoken to her about the Universal Bank. It was so difficult to place one’s money, so hard to find really solid investments! At last he realized she would really like to buy some shares, with the ten per cent bonus for members of the syndicate, and he realized too, even more clearly, that if he opened an account for her she would not pay up.
‘I have my own private fortune, my husband has nothing to do with it. It’s a lot of bother but I quite enjoy it, I must admit… But when a woman is seen to be dealing in money matters, and especially a young woman, don’t you think? People are surprised and tend to think ill of her… There are days when I find myself in dire difficulties, having no friends at hand to advise me. Just a fortnight ago, for lack of information, I lost a considerable sum of money… Ah! Now that you are going to be so well placed for information, if you could be so kind, if you would be willing to…’
Beneath the woman of the world the gambler showed through, the desperate, obsessive speculator, this daughter of the Ladricourt family, one of whose ancestors had captured Antioch; this diplomat’s wife, so highly respected by the foreign colony of Paris but whose passion sent her scurrying round the financial world seeking favours. Her lips were blood-red, her eyes burned even more intensely, her desire burst forth, bringing to the surface the passionate woman she seemed to be. And he was naive enough to think that she had come to offer herself to him, simply to be in on his grand project and from time to time get useful tips for the Bourse.
‘But Madame, there’s nothing I’d like better than to lay my experience at your feet!’
He drew his chair closer and took her hand. This at once brought her to her senses. Ah no, she had not come to such a pass, the time was still far off when she had to pay for information with a night in her bed. Her affair with the Public Prosecutor Delcambre was already a ghastly chore for her, such a dried-up and jaundiced man whom she had been forced to accept because of the miserliness of her husband. Her indifference to sensuality and the secret contempt she felt for men had suddenly shown up in the pallid weariness on this face, that so falsely betokened the woman of passion when her sole passion was for speculation. She rose to her feet in a rebellion that sprang from her birth and education and still caused her to lose some business opportunities.
‘So, Monsieur, you’re saying you were satisfied with your chef?’
Quite astonished, Saccard also stood up. What had she been expecting? That he would add her to his register and give her information for nothing? Women, decidedly, were not to be trusted, they went into deals with the most amazing bad faith. And although he did want this woman, he didn’t persist but bowed with a smile that said: ‘As you please, dear lady, when you’re ready,’ while aloud he said:
‘Very satisfied, as I said. It was only a change in my domestic arrangements that led me to part with him.’
Baroness Sandorff hesitated, though barely a second—not that she regretted her revolt, but she doubtless felt how naive it was to have come to see a man like Saccard without being resigned to the consequences. That made her irritated with herself, for she thought of herself as a woman of sense. She finally responded with a simple nod to the respectful bow with which he bade her farewell; and he was just taking her to the little side-door when it was suddenly thrown open by a familiar hand. It was Maxime, who was having lunch with his father that morning and, as a member of the family, had come in by the side-entrance. He stood back and also bowed, allowing the Baroness to leave. Then, when she had gone, he gave a short laugh:
‘So business is taking off, is it? Starting to collect your bonuses?’
Although he was still very young, he had the self-confidence of a man of experience who wouldn’t waste his time uselessly for the sake of some risky pleasure. His father recognized this attitude of ironic superiority.
‘In fact no, not collecting anything at all, and not because I couldn’t, dear boy, for I’m as proud of still being a twenty-year-old as you seem to be of already being sixty.’
Maxime just laughed the more, his old, tinkling, girlish laugh, with that suggestive cooing sound he still had, even in the very proper style he had taken on as a settled young man, anxious to do no further damage to his life. He affected the utmost indulgence, provided there was no danger to anything of his.
‘My word, you’re quite right, just as long as it doesn’t wear you out… As for me, you know, I already have rheumatism.’
Then he installed himself comfortably in an armchair and picked up a newspaper. ‘Don’t worry about me, you can go on receiving your callers, if I’m not in your way… I came early because I had to go and see my doctor and he wasn’t there.’
At that moment the valet came in to say that the Countess de Beauvilliers was asking to be admitted. Somewhat surprised, although he had already met his noble neighbour, as he called her, at the Work Foundation, Saccard had her shown in at once; then, calling the valet back, told him to send everyone else away, for he was tired and very hungry.
When the Countess came in she didn’t even notice Maxime, hidden behind the back of his armchair. And Saccard was yet more surprised when he saw that she had brought her daughter Alice with her. This gave an extra solemnity to her visit: the two women were so sad and pale, the mother tall, thin, white-haired, and looking as if she belonged to another era, and the daughter prematurely aged, with a long, even disastrously long, neck. He drew two chairs forward with bustling politeness, the better to show his deference.
‘Madame, I am extremely honoured… If I could have the pleasure of serving you in some way…’
The Countess, who was a very shy woman beneath her haughty airs, eventually managed to explain the reason for her visit.
‘Monsieur, it was after a conversation with my friend, the Princess d’Orviedo, that I had the idea of coming to see you… I confess that I hesitated at first, for at my age it is not easy to change one’s ideas, and I’ve always been very much afraid of present-day things that I don’t understand… However, I’ve talked to my daughter about it, and I believe that it is my duty to put aside my scruples and try to secure the happiness of my loved ones.’
And she went on, telling him that the Princess had told her about the Universal Bank, a lending-house like any other in the eyes of the profane but which, to the initiated, would have an unquestionable justification, an aim so meritorious and lofty that
it would silence even the most timorous consciences. She did not mention the Pope nor Jerusalem: that was left unspoken, scarcely even whispered among the faithful, that was the secret that stirred the passions; but from every word she uttered, from every allusion and suggestion, a hope and a faith came through, giving a religious fire to her belief in the success of the new bank.
Saccard himself was astonished at her restrained emotion and the tremor in her voice. He had only ever spoken of Jerusalem in his more frenzied lyrical excesses, he didn’t really believe in that crazy plan, sensing something ridiculous about it and always ready to abandon it with a laugh if it met with mockery. And the deeply felt action of this saintly woman, who brought her daughter with her, and the profound way in which she implied that she and all her kin and the whole of the French aristocracy would believe with all their hearts, struck him forcibly, giving substance to what had been a mere dream and infinitely extending its scope for development. So it was true then, this was a lever with which he could lift the whole world. With his capacity for swift assimilation he at once grasped the situation, he too now spoke in mysterious terms of that ultimate triumph he would be silently pursuing; and his words were full of fervour, for he had indeed just been touched by faith, faith in the excellence of the instrument that the present crisis of the Papacy had placed in his hands. He had a happy knack of becoming a believer whenever his plans required it.
‘In short, Monsieur,’ the Countess went on, ‘I have decided to do something which I formerly found repugnant… It’s true, the idea of putting money to work and placing it at interest had never entered my head: old-fashioned ways of looking at life, scruples which are becoming a little silly, I know; but what can you do? It’s not easy to go against beliefs one drank in with one’s mother’s milk, and I always imagined that land alone, the large estate, would provide for people like us… Unfortunately, the large estate…’
She blushed slightly, for she was about to admit to the ruin she took such care to conceal.
‘The large estate scarcely exists any more… We have had a lot of difficulties… All we have left is one farm.’
At this Saccard, to spare her any embarrassment, added passionately:
‘But Madame, nobody lives off estates any more… The old land-based fortune is an antiquated form of wealth which no longer has any purpose. It represented the very stagnation of money, money whose value we have multiplied tenfold by throwing it into circulation, with paper money and with commercial and financial securities of all sorts. That’s how the world will be renewed, for without money, liquid money, flowing and infiltrating everywhere, nothing was possible, not scientific inventions nor ultimate, universal peace… Landed wealth, oh dear! That went out with the stagecoach! You can starve with a million in land, but you can live on a quarter of that amount placed in sound investments at fifteen, twenty, even thirty per cent.’
Gently, in her infinitely sad way, the Countess shook her head.
‘I hardly understand what you’re saying and, as I’ve told you, I still belong to an era when such things were frightening, were seen as bad and forbidden… But I am not alone, I must above all think of my daughter. Over the past few years I’ve managed to put aside, oh, just a small sum…’
She was blushing again.
‘Twenty thousand francs, lying in a drawer at home. Later on I might perhaps have regretted leaving them there, earning nothing; and since your project is a worthy one, as my friend has confided to me, and since you will be working towards what we all desire with our most ardent wishes, I am taking the risk… In short, I’d be grateful if you could set aside shares for me in your bank, for ten to twelve thousand francs. I have had my daughter come with me, for I won’t hide from you that this money is hers.’
Up to that point Alice had not opened her mouth, staying in the background in spite of the lively intelligence of her eyes. She made a gesture of tender reproach.
‘Mine, Mother? Is there anything of mine which isn’t yours?’
‘But your marriage, my child?’
‘But you know I don’t want to be married!’
She had spoken too quickly, and the pain of her solitude cried out in her reedy voice. Her mother hushed her with a look of distress; and they gazed at each other for a moment, unable to lie to each other in their daily sharing of what they had to suffer and conceal.
Saccard was very moved.
‘Madame, if there were no shares left I would still find some for you. Oh yes, if necessary I’ll take some out of my own… I am infinitely touched by your decision, and I am very honoured by the trust you are showing in me…’
And at that precise moment he really did believe he would make the fortune of these poor women, that he was bringing them a share in the shower of gold that was about to rain down on himself and all around him.
The ladies rose and began to take their leave. Only when she reached the door did the Countess allow herself to make a direct allusion to the great project that remained unspoken.
‘I have received from my son Ferdinand in Rome a distressing letter about the sadness produced there by the announcement about the withdrawal of our troops.’
‘Have patience!’ Saccard declared with conviction. ‘We are coming to the rescue.’
Deep bows were exchanged and he accompanied them out to the landing, this time going through the waiting-room, which he believed to be empty. But as he came back he saw, sitting on a bench, a tall, sharp-featured man of about fifty, dressed like a worker in his Sunday best, and with him a pretty girl of eighteen, slim and pale.
‘What’s this! What are you doing here?’
The girl rose first, and the man, intimidated by this brusque greeting, started to stammer out a confused explanation.
‘I had given orders for everyone to be sent away! So why are you here? At least tell me your name.’
‘Dejoie, Monsieur, and this is my daughter Nathalie…’
Then he got into a muddle again, so much so that Saccard, losing patience, was about to push him towards the door, when at last he gathered that it was Madame Caroline who had told him to come and wait, as she had known him a long time.
‘Ah! Madame Caroline sent you. You should have said so straight away. Come in, and do hurry up because I’m really hungry.’
Once in his office he left Dejoie and Nathalie standing and did not himself sit down, so as to get rid of them more quickly. Maxime, who had risen from his armchair when the Countess left, did not this time withdraw discreetly but stayed, looking over the new arrivals with a curious eye. And Dejoie lengthily explained what he had come about.
‘This is how it is, Monsieur… I got my discharge,* then I went as office-boy for Monsieur Durieu, Madame Caroline’s husband, when he was still alive and had his brewery. Then I went to Monsieur Lamberthier, in the market-hall. Then I went to Monsieur Bisot, a banker you know well: he blew his brains out two months ago so now I haven’t got a job… I should tell you, first of all, that I had got married. Yes, I married my wife Joséphine when I was at Monsieur Durieu’s in fact, and she worked as cook for Monsieur’s sister-in-law Madame Lévêque, a lady well known to Madame Caroline. And then, when I was at Monsieur Lamberthier’s, Joséphine couldn’t get a place there so she went to work for a doctor in Grenelle, a Monsieur Renaudin. Then she went to the Trois-Frères shop on the Rue Rambuteau where, as if it was fated, there was never a place for me…’
‘In short,’ Saccard interrupted him, ‘you’ve come to me for a job, is that it?’
But Dejoie was intent on telling him the sad story of his life, the unhappy chance which had made him marry a cook without ever being able to find a job in the same household as hers. It was almost as if they’d never been properly married, never having their own bedroom, meeting each other at wine-shops and kissing behind kitchen doors. When their daughter Nathalie was born they had to leave her with a nurse until she was eight years old, until one day when her father, tired of being alone, had taken her back into h
is cramped bachelor’s lodgings. So he had become the real mother of the little girl, bringing her up, taking her to school, and looking after her with the utmost care, his heart overflowing with ever greater adoration.
‘Oh, I can happily say, Monsieur, that she has given me great satisfaction. She’s educated, she’s honest… And you can see for yourself, she has no equal for sweetness of nature.’
Indeed Saccard found her charming, this blonde flower of the Paris streets, with her frail grace and her large eyes beneath little curls of fair hair. She accepted her father’s adoration, still well-behaved, having had no reason not to be, but with a fierce and tranquil egoism in the limpid brilliance of her eyes.
‘So, Monsieur, she is now of an age to be married, and in fact a good suitor has just come forward, the son of our neighbour the cardboard manufacturer. But he’s a lad who wants to go into business, and he’s asking for six thousand francs. It’s not too much, he could very well find a girl who’d bring him more… I must add that I lost my wife four years ago and she left us her savings, her little earnings as a cook, you see?… So I have four thousand francs; but that’s not six thousand, and the young man is in a hurry, so is Nathalie…’
The girl, who was listening and smiling, with her clear gaze, so cold and so determined, gave a sharp nod of agreement.
‘Of course… I’m fed up, I want to see an end of it one way or the other.’
Once more Saccard cut in. He had judged the man to be unimaginative but very capable, very good-hearted, and accustomed to military discipline. And it was enough that he’d come on the advice of Madame Caroline.
‘That’s fine, my friend… I am going to have a newspaper, and I’m taking you on as office-boy… leave me your address, and goodbye for now.’
However, Dejoie made no move to go. He went on, with some embarrassment:
‘Monsieur is most kind, and I gratefully accept the post, for I must work when once I’ve got Nathalie settled… But I came about something else. Yes, I learned, through Madame Caroline and some others, that Monsieur is going to be involved in some grand ventures and will be able to make as much profit as he likes for his friends and acquaintances… So, if Monsieur would kindly concern himself with us, if Monsieur would be willing to let us have some shares…’