Gobseck , livre ebook

The Floating Press - De Balzac Honore ,
traduit par Ellen Marriage

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

46 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

An extract from Honore de Balzac's sweeping novel cycle The Human Comedy, Gobseck is a novella that recounts the social ascendancy of young Anastasie de Restaud. Born into a wealthy family, Anastasie marries into aristocracy, but soon grows weary of the arcane rituals of her new lifestyle -- not to mention her lack of feelings toward her husband. Seeking passion, she makes several bold decisions and quickly finds herself on the road to ruin.

Sujets

Short story

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 septembre 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776585830
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

GOBSECK
* * *
HONORE DE BALZAC
Translated by
ELLEN MARRIAGE

*
Gobseck From an 1840 edition Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-583-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-584-7 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Dedication Gobseck Addendum
Dedication
*
To M. le Baron Barchou de Penhoen.
Among all the pupils of the Oratorian school at Vendome, we are, I think, the only two who have afterwards met in mid-career of a life of letters—we who once were cultivating Philosophy when by rights we should have been minding our De viris. When we met, you were engaged upon your noble works on German philosophy, and I upon this study. So neither of us has missed his vocation; and you, when you see your name here, will feel, no doubt, as much pleasure as he who inscribes his work to you.—Your old schoolfellow,
De Balzac.
1840
Gobseck
*
It was one o'clock in the morning, during the winter of 1829-30, but inthe Vicomtesse de Grandlieu's salon two persons stayed on who did notbelong to her family circle. A young and good-looking man heard theclock strike, and took his leave. When the courtyard echoed with thesound of a departing carriage, the Vicomtesse looked up, saw that no onewas present save her brother and a friend of the family finishing theirgame of piquet, and went across to her daughter. The girl, standing bythe chimney-piece, apparently examining a transparent fire-screen,was listening to the sounds from the courtyard in a way that justifiedcertain maternal fears.
"Camille," said the Vicomtesse, "if you continue to behave to youngComte de Restaud as you have done this evening, you will oblige me tosee no more of him here. Listen, child, and if you have any confidencein my love, let me guide you in life. At seventeen one cannot judge ofpast or future, nor of certain social considerations. I have only onething to say to you. M. de Restaud has a mother, a mother who wouldwaste millions of francs; a woman of no birth, a Mlle. Goriot; peopletalked a good deal about her at one time. She behaved so badly to herown father, that she certainly does not deserve to have so good a son.The young Count adores her, and maintains her in her position withdutifulness worthy of all praise, and he is extremely good to hisbrother and sister.—But however admirable his behavior may be," theVicomtesse added with a shrewd expression, "so long as his mother lives,any family would take alarm at the idea of intrusting a daughter'sfortune and future to young Restaud."
"I overheard a word now and again in your talk with Mlle. de Grandlieu,"cried the friend of the family, "and it made me anxious to put in a wordof my own.—I have won, M. le Comte," he added, turning to his opponent."I shall throw you over and go to your niece's assistance."
"See what it is to have an attorney's ears!" exclaimed the Vicomtesse."My dear Derville, how could you know what I was saying to Camille in awhisper?"
"I knew it from your looks," answered Derville, seating himself in a lowchair by the fire.
Camille's uncle went to her side, and Mme. de Grandlieu took up herposition on a hearth stool between her daughter and Derville.
"The time has come for telling a story, which should modify yourjudgment as to Ernest de Restaud's prospects."
"A story?" cried Camille. "Do begin at once, monsieur."
The glance that Derville gave the Vicomtesse told her that this tale wasmeant for her. The Vicomtesse de Grandlieu, be it said, was one of thegreatest ladies in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, by reason of her fortuneand her ancient name; and though it may seem improbable that a Parisattorney should speak so familiarly to her, or be so much at home in herhouse, the fact is nevertheless easily explained.
When Mme. de Grandlieu returned to France with the Royal family, shecame to Paris, and at first lived entirely on the pension allowed herout of the Civil List by Louis XVIII.—an intolerable position. TheHotel de Grandlieu had been sold by the Republic. It came to Derville'sknowledge that there were flaws in the title, and he thought that itought to return to the Vicomtesse. He instituted proceedings for nullityof contract, and gained the day. Encouraged by this success, he usedlegal quibbles to such purpose that he compelled some institution orother to disgorge the Forest of Liceney. Then he won certain lawsuitsagainst the Canal d'Orleans, and recovered a tolerably large amountof property, with which the Emperor had endowed various publicinstitutions. So it fell out that, thanks to the young attorney'sskilful management, Mme. de Grandlieu's income reached the sum of somesixty thousand francs, to say nothing of the vast sums returned to herby the law of indemnity. And Derville, a man of high character, wellinformed, modest, and pleasant in company, became the house-friend ofthe family.
By his conduct of Mme. de Grandlieu's affairs he had fairly earned theesteem of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and numbered the best familiesamong his clients; but he did not take advantage of his popularity, asan ambitious man might have done. The Vicomtesse would have had him sellhis practice and enter the magistracy, in which career advancement wouldhave been swift and certain with such influence at his disposal; but hepersistently refused all offers. He only went into society to keep uphis connections, but he occasionally spent an evening at the Hotel deGrandlieu. It was a very lucky thing for him that his talents had beenbrought into the light by his devotion to Mme. de Grandlieu, for hispractice otherwise might have gone to pieces. Derville had not anattorney's soul. Since Ernest de Restaud had appeared at the Hotel deGrandlieu, and he had noticed that Camille felt attracted to the youngman, Derville had been as assiduous in his visits as any dandy of theChausee-d'Antin newly admitted to the noble Faubourg. At a ball onlya few days before, when he happened to stand near Camille, and said,indicating the Count:
"It is a pity that yonder youngster has not two or three million francs,is it not?"
"Is it a pity? I do not think so," the girl answered. "M. de Restaudhas plenty of ability; he is well educated, and the Minister, hischief, thinks well of him. He will be a remarkable man, I have no doubt.'Yonder youngster' will have as much money as he wishes when he comesinto power."
"Yes, but suppose that he were rich already?"
"Rich already?" repeated Camille, flushing red. "Why all the girlsin the room would be quarreling for him," she said, glancing at thequadrilles.
"And then," retorted the attorney, "Mlle. de Grandlieu might not be theone towards whom his eyes are always turned? That is what that red colormeans! You like him, do you not? Come, speak out."
Camille suddenly rose to go.
"She loves him," Derville thought.
Since that evening, Camille had been unwontedly attentive to theattorney, who approved of her liking for Ernest de Restaud. Hitherto,although she knew well that her family lay under great obligations toDerville, she had felt respect rather than real friendship for him,their relation was more a matter of politeness than of warmth offeeling; and by her manner, and by the tones of her voice, she hadalways made him sensible of the distance which socially lay betweenthem. Gratitude is a charge upon the inheritance which the secondgeneration is apt to repudiate.
"This adventure," Derville began after a pause, "brings the one romanticevent in my life to my mind. You are laughing already," he went on;"it seems so ridiculous, doesn't it, that an attorney should speak ofa romance in his life? But once I was five-and-twenty, like everybodyelse, and even then I had seen some queer things. I ought to begin atthe beginning by telling you about some one whom it is impossible thatyou should have known. The man in question was a usurer.
"Can you grasp a clear notion of that sallow, wan face of his? I wishthe Academie would give me leave to dub such faces the lunar type. It was like silver-gilt, with the gilt rubbed off. His hair wasiron-gray, sleek, and carefully combed; his features might have beencast in bronze; Talleyrand himself was not more impassive than thismoney-lender. A pair of little eyes, yellow as a ferret's, and withscarce an eyelash to them, peered out from under the sheltering peak ofa shabby old cap, as if they feared the light. He had the thin lips thatyou see in Rembrandt's or Metsu's portraits of alchemists and shrunkenold men, and a nose so sharp at the tip that it put you in mind of agimlet. His voice was so low; he always spoke suavely; he never flewinto a passion. His age was a problem; it was hard to say whether he hadgrown old before his time, or whether by economy of youth he had savedenough to last him his life.
"His room, and everything in it, from the green baize of the bureauto the strip of carpet by the bed, was as clean and threadbare as thechilly sanctuary of some elderly spinster who spends her days in rubbingher furniture. In winter time, the live brands of the fire smoulderedall day in a bank of ashes; there was never any flame in his grate. Hewent through his day, from his uprising to his evening coughing-fit,with the regularity of a pendulum, and in some sort was a clockwork man,wound up by a night's slumber. Touch a wood-louse on an excursion acrossyour sheet of paper, and the creature shams death; and in something thesame way my acquaintance would stop short in the middle of a sentenc