Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master (32 page)

MASTER
: Well, what do you expect? I did the same as everyone else. The first thing I forgot was my father’s lesson. There I was, well stocked in goods for sale, but it was money we needed. There were a few pairs of lace cuffs which were very beautiful. The Chevalier took some at cost price and said: ‘There, that is already one part of your purchase on which you will lose nothing.’

Mathieu de Fourgeot took a watch and two gold boxes for which he was going to give me cash immediately. Le Brun took everything else on sale or return at his house. I put a superb set of jewels into my pocket along with the lace cuffs. It was one of the flowers in the bouquet which I was going to present. Mathieu de Fourgeot returned in the twinkling of an eye with sixty louis. He kept ten for himself and I took the fifty remaining. He told me that he had sold neither the watch nor the two boxes but that he’d pawned them.

MASTER
: Come along, Jacques, you are joking. You do not know M. Le Brun. I suggested to him that I should reward his good offices. He got angry with me and replied that I apparently took him for a Mathieu de Fourgeot, and that he had never asked for anything.

‘Good old Monsieur Le Brun,’ exclaimed the Chevalier, ‘he’s always the same. We would be embarrassed if you were more honest than us…’

And straight away he took out from amongst our merchandise two dozen handkerchiefs and a piece of muslin, which he asked him to accept for his wife and daughter. Le Brun started to contemplate the handkerchiefs which appeared so beautiful to him, the muslin which he found so fine. It was offered to him with such good grace and he had so close at hand the opportunity to repay our kindness through the sale of the goods which remained in his hands that he allowed himself to be won over. And then we were gone, going as fast as our carriage would take us towards the home of her whom I loved and for whom the set of jewels, the lace cuffs and the ring were destined. The present worked like magic. She was charming and tried on the set of jewels and the lace cuffs straight away. The ring seemed to have been made for her finger. We dined merrily as you can well imagine.

MASTER
: I was obliged to hide myself. My parents were informed. One of my uncles came to Paris. He sent a statement against all these rogues to the police. This statement was sent to a clerk and this clerk was a paid protector of Merval. They replied that since the matter was a civil case the police could do nothing. The pawnbroker to whom Mathieu had entrusted the two boxes issued a summons against Mathieu. I became involved in the action. The court costs were so enormous that after the sale of the watch and the boxes there still remained five or six hundred francs to pay.

You don’t believe that, do you, Reader? But if I told you that an innkeeper in my neighbourhood died a short time ago and left two poor infant children. The bailiff went to the deceased’s house and had the place sealed. Then the seals were removed, an inventory was made, and a sale took place. The sale produced nine hundred francs. Out of these nine hundred francs, after the costs of justice had been deducted, there remained two sous for each orphan, which they put into each child’s hand and then led them both to the workhouse.

JACQUES
: Wise or mad, I’m not leaving a drop in this gourd.

While Jacques was emptying out his gourd his master looked at his watch, opened his snuff-box, and prepared to continue the story of his loves. But, as for me, Reader, I am tempted to shut his mouth by showing him, in the distance, either an old soldier on a horse, his back stooped, coming towards them rapidly, or a young peasant girl, wearing a little straw hat and red petticoats, going her way on foot, or on a donkey. And why shouldn’t this old soldier be Jacques’ Captain or his Captain’s friend?

– But he’s dead!

You think so? And why shouldn’t the young peasant girl be Suzon or Marguerite, or the hostess of the Grand-Cerf, or mother Jeanne, or even Denise, her daughter? A novelist wouldn’t miss such an opportunity, but I don’t like novels – except Richardson’s. I am writing history: either this story will be interesting or it won’t be interesting, but that is the least of my worries. My project is to be truthful and I have fulfilled it. So I will not have brother Jean return from Lisbon. That fat prior coming towards us in a gig with a pretty young lady sitting beside him will not be Father Hudson.

– But Father Hudson is dead.

You believe so? Were you at his funeral?

– No.

You didn’t see him buried?

– No.

Then he is either dead or alive, as you please. It is entirely up to me whether or not I stop this gig and bring out of it along with the Prior and his travelling companion a series of events, the result of which would be that you would know neither Jacques’ loves nor those of his master. But I disdain all these expedients. I can see that with only a little bit of imagination and style, nothing is easier to rattle off than a novel. But let us stick to the truth, and while we are waiting for Jacques’ sore throat to go away, let us allow his master to speak.

MASTER
: The Chevalier added: ‘Within a fortnight! That is quite a short time. You are in love and you are loved. In a fortnight, what are you going to do?’

I told the Chevalier straight away that I would give up.

‘You’re giving up! Don’t you love her, then?’

‘I love her a lot, but I have parents, a name, a position in life, ambitions, and I will never decide to bury all those advantages in the shop of a little bourgeoise.’

‘Shall I tell them that?’

‘If you wish. But, Chevalier, the sudden scrupulous delicacy of these people surprises me. They have allowed their daughter to accept my presents, they have left me alone with her a score of times, she goes to balls, gatherings, shows, walks alone in the fields and in the town with the first fellow who has a decent carriage and team to put at her disposal. They sleep soundly while people converse or play music at her house. You frequent the house whenever you please and, between you and me, Chevalier, when you are allowed into a house, anyone else can be brought there. Their daughter has a reputation. I do not believe and I do not deny all the things that people say about her, but you must admit that these parents might have taken it into their heads earlier to be punctilious about their child’s honour. Do you want me to speak the truth? They have taken me for some kind of simpleton whom they have calculated they could lead by the nose to the feet of the parish priest. They’ve made a mistake. I find Mlle Agathe charming and I am infatuated with her, which is obvious, I believe, from the frightful expense I have incurred for her. I’m not saying that I won’t continue in the same vein, but I must be certain, in that event, that I’ll find her somewhat less unyielding in the future.

‘It is not my intention to lose at her knees time, money and entreaties which I could put to much better use elsewhere. You will repeat these last words to Mlle Agathe, and everything which preceded to her parents. Our relationship must end, or I must be accepted on a new footing and Mlle Agathe treat me better than she has done up to now. When you introduced me to her house, you must admit, Chevalier, that you led me to anticipate a more responsive attitude than I’ve met with so far.’

‘Heavens, I was a little deceived myself at first. Who the devil would ever have imagined that with her free and easy airs and manner the young scatterbrain would be a little dragon of virtue?’