Essential Novelists - Honoré de Balzac. Оноре де Бальзак

whose trust in you is as great as her

      foresight for you. You know the steps that you must take, and I,

      for my part, know the purity of heart, and how good your

      intentions are; so I can say to you without a doubt, ‘Go forward,

      beloved!’ If I tremble, it is because I am a mother, but my

      prayers and blessings will be with you at every step. Be very

      careful, dear boy. You must have a man’s prudence, for it lies

      with you to shape the destinies of five others who are dear to

      you, and must look to you. Yes, our fortunes depend upon you, and

      your success is ours. We all pray to God to be with you in all

      that you do. Your aunt Marcillac has been most generous beyond

      words in this matter; she saw at once how it was, even down to

      your gloves. ‘But I have a weakness for the eldest!’ she said

      gaily. You must love your aunt very much, dear Eugene. I shall

      wait till you have succeeded before telling you all that she has

      done for you, or her money would burn your fingers. You, who are

      young, do not know what it is to part with something that is a

      piece of your past! But what would we not sacrifice for your

      sakes? Your aunt says that I am to send you a kiss on the forehead

      from her, and that kiss is to bring you luck again and again, she

      says. She would have written you herself, the dear kind-hearted

      woman, but she is troubled with the gout in her fingers just now.

      Your father is very well. The vintage of 1819 has turned out

      better than we expected. Good-bye, dear boy; I will say nothing

      about your sisters, because Laure is writing to you, and I must

      let her have the pleasure of giving you all the home news. Heaven

      send that you may succeed! Oh! yes, dear Eugene, you must succeed.

      I have come, through you, to a knowledge of a pain so sharp that I

      do not think I could endure it a second time. I have come to know

      what it is to be poor, and to long for money for my children’s

      sake. There, good-bye! Do not leave us for long without news of

      you; and here, at the last, take a kiss from your mother.”

      By the time Eugene had finished the letter he was in tears. He thought of Father Goriot crushing his silver keepsake into a shapeless mass before he sold it to meet his daughter’s bill of exchange.

      “Your mother has broken up her jewels for you,” he said to himself; “your aunt shed tears over those relics of hers before she sold them for your sake. What right have you to heap execrations on Anastasie? You have followed her example; you have selfishly sacrificed others to your own future, and she sacrifices her father to her lover; and of you two, which is the worse?”

      He was ready to renounce his attempts; he could not bear to take that money. The fires of remorse burned in his heart, and gave him intolerable pain, the generous secret remorse which men seldom take into account when they sit in judgment upon their fellow-men; but perhaps the angels in heaven, beholding it, pardon the criminal whom our justice condemns. Rastignac opened his sister’s letter; its simplicity and kindness revived his heart.

      “Your letter came just at the right time, dear brother. Agathe and

      I had thought of so many different ways of spending our money,

      that we did not know what to buy with it; and now you have come

      in, and, like the servant who upset all the watches that belonged

      to the King of Spain, you have restored harmony; for, really and

      truly, we did not know which of all the things we wanted we wanted

      most, and we were always quarreling about it, never thinking, dear

      Eugene, of a way of spending our money which would satisfy us

      completely. Agathe jumped for you. Indeed, we have been like two

      mad things all day, ‘to such a prodigious degree’ (as aunt would

      say), that mother said, with her severe expression, ‘Whatever can

      be the matter with you, mesdemoiselles?’ I think if we had been

      scolded a little, we should have been still better pleased. A

      woman ought to be very glad to suffer for one she loves! I,

      however, in my inmost soul, was doleful and cross in the midst of

      all my joy. I shall make a bad wife, I am afraid, I am too fond of

      spending. I had bought two sashes and a nice little stiletto for

      piercing eyelet-holes in my stays, trifles that I really did not

      want, so that I have less than that slow-coach Agathe, who is so

      economical, and hoards her money like a magpie. She had two

      hundred francs! And I have only one hundred and fifty! I am nicely

      punished; I could throw my sash down the well; it will be painful

      to me to wear it now. Poor dear, I have robbed you. And Agathe was

      so nice about it. She said, ‘Let us send the three hundred and

      fifty francs in our two names!’ But I could not help telling you

      everything just as it happened.

      “Do you know how we managed to keep your commandments? We took our

      glittering hoard, we went out for a walk, and when once fairly on

      the highway we ran all the way to Ruffec, where we handed over the

      coin, without more ado, to M. Grimbert of the Messageries Royales.

      We came back again like swallows on the wing. ‘Don’t you think

      that happiness has made us lighter?’ Agathe said. We said all

      sorts of things, which I shall not tell you, Monsieur le Parisien,

      because they were all about you. Oh, we love you dearly, dear

      brother; it was all summed up in those few words. As for keeping

      the secret, little masqueraders like us are capable of anything

      (according to our aunt), even of holding our tongues. Our mother

      has been on a mysterious journey to Angouleme, and the aunt went

      with her, not without solemn councils, from which we were shut

      out, and M. le Baron likewise. They are silent as to the weighty

      political considerations that prompted their mission, and

      conjectures are rife in the State of Rastignac. The Infantas are

      embroidering a muslin robe with open-work sprigs for her Majesty

      the Queen; the work progresses in the most profound secrecy. There

      be but two more breadths to finish. A decree has gone forth that

      no wall shall be built on the side of Verteuil, but that a hedge

      shall