From the moment when that word "Ungrateful" was flung at him like an anathema, little Popinot had not had an hour's sleep nor an instant's peace of mind. The unhappy lad cursed his uncle, and finally went to see him. To get the better of that experienced judicial wisdom he poured forth the eloquence of love, hoping it might seduce a being from whose mind human speech slips like water from a duck's back,--a judge!
"From a commercial point of view," he said, "custom does allow the managing-partner to advance a certain sum to the sleeping-partner on the profits of the business, and we are certain to make profits. After close examination of my affairs I do feel strong enough to pay forty thousand francs in three months. The known integrity of Monsieur Cesar is a guarantee that he will use that forty thousand to pay off his debts. Thus the creditors, if there should come a failure, can lay no blame on us. Besides, uncle, I would rather lose forty thousand francs than lose Cesarine. At this very moment while I am speaking, she has doubtless been told of my refusal, and will cease to esteem me. I
vowed my blood to my benefactor! I am like a young sailor who ought to sink with his captain, or a soldier who should die with his general."
"Good heart and bad merchant, you will never lose my esteem," said the judge, pressing the hand of his nephew. "I have thought a great deal of this," he added. "I know you love Cesarine devotedly, and I think you can satisfy the claims of love and the claims of commerce."
"Ah! my uncle, if you have found a way my honor is saved!"
"Advance Birotteau fifty thousand on his share in your oil, which has now become a species of property, reserving to yourself the right of buying it back. I will draw up the deed."
Anselme embraced his uncle and rushed home, made notes to the amount of fifty thousand francs, and ran from the Rue des Cinq-Diamants to the Place Vendome, so that just as Cesarine, her mother, and Pillerault were gazing at Cesar, amazed at the sepulchural tone in which he had uttered the word "Ungrateful!" the door of the salon opened and Popinot appeared.
"My dear and beloved master!" he cried, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "here is what you asked of me!" He held out the notes.
"Yes, I have carefully examined my situation; you need have no fear, I
shall be able to pay them. Save--save your honor!"
"I was sure of him!" cried Cesarine, seizing Popinot's hand, and pressing it with convulsive force.
Madame Cesar embraced him; Birotteau rose up like the righteous at the sound of the last trumpet, and issued, as it were, from the tomb. Then he stretched out a frenzied hand to seize the fifty stamped papers.
"Stop!" said the terrible uncle, Pillerault, snatching the papers from Popinot, "one moment!"
The four individuals present,--Cesar, his wife, Cesarine, and Popinot, --bewildered by the action of the old man and by the tone of his voice, saw him tear the papers and fling them in the fire, without attempting to interfere.
"Uncle!"
"Uncle!"
"Uncle!"
"Monsieur!"
Four voices and but one heart; a startling unanimity! Uncle Pillerault passed his arm round Popinot's neck, held him to his breast, and kissed him.
"You are worthy of the love of those who have hearts," he said. "If you loved a daughter of mine, had she a million and you had nothing but that [pointing to the black ashes of the notes], you should marry her in a fortnight, if she loved you. Your master," he said, pointing to Cesar, "is beside himself. My nephew," resumed Pillerault, gravely, addressing the poor man,--"my nephew, away with illusions! We must do business with francs, not feelings. All this is noble, but useless. I
spent two hours at the Bourse this afternoon. You have not one farthing's credit; every one is talking of your disaster, of your attempts to renew, of your appeals to various bankers, of their refusals, of your follies,--going up six flights of stairs to beg a gossiping landlord, who chatters like a magpie, to renew a note of twelve hundred francs!--your ball, given to conceal your embarrassments. They have gone so far as to say you had no property in Roguin's hands; according to your enemies, Roguin is only a blind. A
friend of mine, whom I sent about to learn what is going on, confirms what I tell you. Every one foresees that Popinot will issue notes, and believes that you set him up in business expressly as a last resource.
In short, every calumny or slander which a man brings upon himself when he tries to mount a rung of the social ladder, is going the rounds among business men to-day. You might hawk about those notes of Popinot in vain; you would meet humiliating refusals; no one would take them; no one could be sure how many such notes you are issuing;
every one expects you to sacrifice the poor lad to your own safety.
You would destroy to no purpose the credit of the house of Popinot. Do you know how much the boldest money-lender would give you for those fifty thousand francs? Twenty thousand at the most; twenty thousand, do you hear me? There are crises in business when we must stand up three days before the world without eating, as if we had indigestion, and on the fourth day we may be admitted to the larder of credit. You cannot live through those three days; and the whole matter lies there.
My poor nephew, take courage! file your schedule, make an assignment.
Here is Popinot, here am I; we will go to work as soon as the clerks have gone to bed, and spare you the agony of it."
"My uncle!" said Cesar, clasping his hands.
"Cesar, would you choose a shameful failure, in which there are no assets? Your share in the house of Popinot is all that saves your honor."
