Eugénie Grandet

In some country towns there are houses more depressing to the sight than the dimmest cloister, the most melancholy ruins, or the dreariest stretch of sandy waste. Perhaps such houses as these combine the characteristics of all the three, and to the dumb silence of the monastery they unite the gauntness and grimness of the ruin, and the arid desolation of the waste. So little sign is there of life or of movement about them, that a stranger might take them for uninhabited dwellings; but the sound of an unfamiliar footstep brings someone to the window, a passive face suddenly appears above the sill, and the traveler receives a listless and indifferent glance⁠—it is almost as if a monk leaned out to look for a moment on the world.

There is one particular house front in Saumur which possesses all these melancholy characteristics; the house is still standing at the end of the steep street which leads to the castle, at the upper end of the town. The street is very quiet nowadays; it is hot in summer and cold in winter, and very dark in places; besides this, it is remarkably narrow and crooked, there is a peculiarly formal and sedate air about its houses, and it is curious how every sound reverberates through it⁠—the cobble stones (always clean and dry) ring with every passing footfall.

It was in the middle of November, in the year 1819, twilight was coming on, and big Nanon was lighting a fire in the parlor for the first time. It was a festival day in the calendar of the Cruchotins and Grassinistes, wherefore the six antagonists were preparing to set forth, all armed cap-à-pie, for a contest in which each side meant to outdo the other in proofs of friendship. The Grandets’ parlor was to be the scene of action. That morning Mme. and Mlle. Grandet, duly attended by Nanon, had repaired to the parish church to hear mass. All Saumur had seen them go, and everyone had been put in mind of the fact that it was Eugénie’s birthday. M. Cruchot, the Abbé Cruchot, and M. C. de Bonfons, therefore, having calculated the hour when dinner would be over, were eager to be first in the field, and to arrive before the Grassinistes to congratulate Mlle. Grandet. All three carried huge bunches of flowers, gathered in their little garden plots, but the stalks of the magistrate’s bouquet were ingeniously bound round by a white satin ribbon with a tinsel fringe at the ends.

In the morning M. Grandet had gone to Eugénie’s room before she had left her bed, and had solemnly presented her with a rare gold coin. It was her father’s wont to surprise her in this way twice every year⁠—once on her birthday, once on the equally memorable day of her patron saint. Mme. Grandet usually gave her daughter a winter or a summer dress, according to circumstances.

Just as Mme. Grandet had won sixteen sous, the largest amount that had ever been punted beneath that roof, and big Nanon was beaming with delight at the sight of Madame pocketing that splendid sum, there was a knock at the house-door, so sudden and so loud that the women started on their chairs.

“No one in Saumur would knock in that way,” said the notary.

“What do they thump like that for?” said Nanon. “Do they want to break our door down?”

“Who the devil is it?” cried Grandet.

Nanon took up one of the candles and went to open the door. Grandet followed her.

“Grandet! Grandet!” cried his wife; a vague terror seized her, and she hurried to the door of the room.

The players all looked at each other.

“Suppose we go too?” said M. des Grassins. “That knock meant no good, it seemed to me.”

But M. des Grassins scarcely caught a glimpse of a young man’s face and of a porter who was carrying two huge trunks and an assortment of carpet bags, before Grandet turned sharply on his wife and said⁠—

“Go back to your loto, Mme. Grandet, and leave me to settle with this gentleman here.”

With that he slammed the parlor door, and the loto players sat down again, but they were too much excited to go on with the game.

“My father is coming in,” explained Eugénie.

“Well, and what then?”

M. Grandet entered the room, gave one sharp glance at the table, and another at Charles. He saw how it was at once.

“Aha! you are making a fête for your nephew. Good, very good, oh! very good, indeed!” he said, without stammering. “When the cat is away, the mice may play.”

“Fête?” thought Charles, who had not the remotest conception of the state of affairs in the Grandet household.

“Bring me my glass, Nanon,” said the goodman.

Eugénie went for the glass. Grandet drew from his waistcoat pocket a large clasp-knife with a stag’s horn handle, cut a slice of bread, buttered it slowly and sparingly, and began to eat as he stood. Just then Charles put some sugar into his coffee; this called Grandet’s attention to the pieces of sugar on the table; he looked hard at his wife, who turned pale, and came a step or two towards him; he bent down and said in the poor woman’s ear⁠—

“Where did all that sugar come from?”

“Nanon went out to Fessard’s for some; there was none in the house.”

It is impossible to describe the painful interest that this dumb show possessed for the three women; Nanon had left her kitchen, and was looking into the dining-room to see how things went there.

By eleven o’clock they had finished breakfast. “Clear everything away,” Grandet told Nanon, “but leave us the table. We can look over your little treasure more comfortably so,” he said with his eyes on Eugénie. “Little, said I? ’Tis not so small, though, upon my word. Your coins altogether are actually worth five thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine francs, then with forty more this morning, that makes six thousand francs all but one. Well, I will give you another franc to make up the sum, because, you see, little girl⁠ ⁠… Well! now, why are you listening to us? Just take yourself off, Nanon, and set about your work!”

Nanon vanished.

“Listen, Eugénie, you must let me have your gold. You will not refuse to let your papa have it? Eh, little daughter?”

Neither of the women spoke.

“I myself have no gold left. I had some once, but I have none now. I will give you six thousand francs in silver for it, and you shall invest it; I will show you how. There is really no need to think of a dozen. When you are married (which will be before very long) I will find a husband for you who will give you the handsomest dozen that has ever been heard of hereabouts. There is a splendid opportunity just now; you can invest your six thousand francs in Government stock, and every six months, when dividends are due, you will have about two hundred francs coming in, all clear of taxes, and no repairs to pay for, and no frosts nor hail nor bad seasons, none of all the tiresome drawbacks you have to lay your account with if you put your money into land. You don’t like to part with your gold, eh?