Sentimental Education (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (16 page)

One evening Hussonnet introduced a tall young man, attired in a frock-coat which was too short in the sleeves, and with a look of embarrassment on his face. It was the young fellow whom they had gone to release from the guard-house the year before.

As he had not been able to restore the box of lace which he had lost in the scuffle, his employer had accused him of theft, and threatened to prosecute him. He was now a clerk in a wagon-office. Hussonnet had come across him that morning at the corner of the street, and brought him along, for Dussardier, in a spirit of gratitude, had expressed a wish to see “the other.”

He held out towards Frédéric the cigar-holder, still full, which he had religiously preserved, in the hope of being able to give it back. The young men invited him to pay them a second visit; and he was not slow in doing so.

They all had common interests. At first, their hatred of the Government reached the height of unquestionable dogma. Martinon alone attempted to defend Louis Philippe. They overwhelmed him with the commonplaces scattered through the newspapers—the “Bastillization” of Paris, the September laws, Pritchard, Lord Guizot
¹⁷
—so that Martinon held his tongue for fear of giving offence to somebody. During his seven years at college he had never incurred a single penalty, and at the Law School he knew how to make himself agreeable to the professors. He usually wore a big frock-coat of the colour of putty, with india-rubber goloshes; but one evening he presented himself arrayed like a bride-groom, in a velvet roll-collar waistcoat, a white tie, and a gold chain.

The astonishment of the other young men was greatly increased when they learned that he had just come away from M. Dambreuse’s house. In fact, the banker Dambreuse had just bought a portion of an extensive woodland from Martinon senior; and, when the gentleman introduced his son, the other had invited them both to dinner.

“Was there a good supply of truffles there?” asked Deslauriers. “And did you take his wife by the waist between the two doors,
sicut decet?”

Hereupon the conversation turned on women. Pellerin would not admit that there were beautiful women (he preferred tigers); besides the human female was an inferior creature in the æsthetic hierarchy:

“What fascinates you is just the very thing that degrades her as an idea; I mean her breasts, her hair—”

“Nevertheless,” urged Frédéric, “long black hair and large dark eyes—”

“Oh! we know all about that,” cried Hussonnet. “Enough of Andalusian beauties.
ⁿ
Those things are out of date; no thank you! For the fact is a fast woman is more amusing than the Venus of Milo. Let us be lusty for Heaven’s sake, and in the style of the Regency,
^o
if we can!

 

‘Flow, generous wines; ladies, deign to smile!’

 

We must pass from brunettes to blondes. Is that your opinion, Father Dussardier?”

Dussardier did not reply. They all pressed him to ascertain what his tastes were.

“Well,” said he, blushing, “for my part, I would like to love the same one always!”

This was said in such a way that there was a moment of silence, some of them being surprised at this candour, and others finding in his words, perhaps, the secret yearning of their souls.

Sénécal placed his glass of beer on the mantelpiece, and declared dogmatically that, as prostitution was tyrannical and marriage immoral, it was better to practice abstinence. Deslauriers regarded women as a source of amusement—nothing more. M. de Cisy looked upon them full of fear.

Brought up under the eyes of a grandmother who was devout, he found the society of those young fellows as alluring as a house of ill-repute and as instructive as the Sorbonne.
^p
They gave him lessons without limit; and so much zeal did he exhibit that he even wanted to smoke in spite of the nausea that upset him every time he tried it. Frédéric paid him the greatest attention. He admired the shade of this young gentleman’s cravat, the fur on his overcoat, and especially his boots, as thin as gloves, and so very neat and fine that they had a look of insolent superiority. His carriage used to wait for him below in the street.

One evening, after his departure, when there was a fall of snow, Sénécal began to feel sorry for his coachman. He criticized the kid-gloved exquisites at the Jockey Club. He had more respect for a workman than for these fine gentlemen.

“For my part, anyhow, I work for my livelihood! I am a poor man!”

“That’s quite evident,” said Frédéric, finally losing patience.

The tutor developed a grudge against him for this remark.

But, as Regimbart said he knew Sénécal pretty well, Frédéric, wishing to be civil to a friend of the Arnoux, asked him to come to the Saturday meetings; and the two patriots were glad to be brought together in this way.

However, they took opposite views of things.

Senecal—who had a skull of the angular type—fixed his attention merely on systems, whereas Regimbart, on the contrary, saw in facts nothing but facts. The thing that chiefly troubled him was the Rhine frontier. He claimed to be an authority on the subject of artillery, and got his clothes made by a tailor of the Polytechnic School.
^q

The first day, when they offered some cakes, he disdainfully shrugged his shoulders, saying that these might suit women; and on the next few occasions his manner was not much more gracious. Whenever speculative ideas had reached a certain point, he would mutter: “Oh! no Utopias, no dreams!” On the subject of Art (though he used to visit the studios, where he occasionally gave fencing lessons) his opinions were not remarkable for their excellence. He compared the style of M. Marast to that of Voltaire, and Mademoiselle Vatnaz to Madame de Staël, on account of an Ode on Poland in which “there was some spirit.” In short, Regimbart bored everyone, and especially Deslauriers, for the Citizen was a friend of the Arnoux family. Now the clerk was most anxious to visit those people in the hope that he might make the acquaintance of some people there who would be an advantage to him. “When are you going to take me there with you?” he would ask Frédéric. Arnoux was either overburdened with business, or else on a journey. Then it was not worth while, as the dinners were coming to an end.

If he had been called on to risk his life for his friend, Frédéric would have done so. But, as he was desirous of making as good a figure as possible, and with this view was most careful about his language and manners, and so attentive to his clothes that he always presented himself at the office of
L
Art Industriel
irreproachably gloved, he was afraid that Deslauriers, with his shabby black coat, his attorney-like exterior, and his inappropriate remarks, might make a poor impression on Madame Arnoux, and thus compromise him and lower him in her estimation. The others would have been bad enough, but Deslauriers would have embarrassed him a thousand times more. The clerk saw that his friend did not wish to keep his promise, and Frédéric’s silence only added to the insult.

He would have liked to exercise absolute control over him, to see him develop in accordance with the ideal of their youth; and his inactivity aroused the clerk’s indignation as a breach of duty and a lack of loyalty towards himself. Moreover, Frédéric, with his thoughts full of Madame Arnoux, frequently talked about her husband; and Deslauriers now began an intolerable game of repeating the name a hundred times a day, at the end of each remark, like an idiot’s nervous tic. When there was a knock at the door, he would answer, “Come in, Arnoux!” At the restaurant he asked for a Brie cheese “in imitation of Arnoux,” and at night, pretending to wake up from a bad dream, he would rouse his comrade by howling out, “Arnoux! Arnoux!” At last Frédéric, worn out, said to him one day, in a piteous voice:

“Oh! leave me alone with your Arnoux!”

“Never!” replied the clerk:

 

“He is here, he’s there, he’s everywhere, burning or icy cold,

The image of Arnoux—“
^r

 

“Hold your tongue, I tell you!” exclaimed Frédéric, raising his fist.

Then less angrily he added:

“You know well this is a painful subject to me.”

“Oh! forgive me, old fellow,” returned Deslauriers with a very low bow. “From this time forth we will be considerate towards Mademoiselle’s nerves. Again, I say, forgive me. A thousand pardons!”

And so this little joke came to an end.

But, three weeks later, one evening, Deslauriers said to him:

“Well, I have just seen Madame Arnoux.”

“Where, pray?”

“At the Palais, with Balandard, the solicitor. A dark woman, is she not, of medium height?”

Frédéric made a gesture of assent. He waited for Deslauriers to speak. At the least expression of admiration he would have been most effusive, and would have hugged him. However, Deslauriers remained silent. At last, unable to contain himself any longer, Frédéric, with assumed indifference, asked him what he thought of her.

Deslauriers considered that “she was not so bad, but still nothing extraordinary.”

“Ha! That’s what you think!” said Frédéric.

They soon reached the month of August, the time when he was to present himself for his second examination. According to the prevailing opinion, a fortnight was enough time to prepare. Frédéric, having full confidence in his own powers, swallowed up in one go the first four books of the Code of Procedure, the first three of the Penal Code, many bits of the system of criminal investigation, and a part of the Civil Code, with the annotations of M. Poncelet. The night before, Deslauriers made him run through the whole course, a process which did not finish till morning, and, in order to take advantage of even the last quarter of an hour, continued questioning him while they walked along together.

As several examinations were taking place at the same time, there were many persons in the precincts, and amongst others Hussonnet and Cisy: young men never failed to come and watch these ordeals when the fortunes of their comrades were at stake. Frédéric put on the traditional black gown; then, followed by the throng, with three other students, he entered a spacious room, into which the light penetrated through uncurtained windows, and which was garnished with benches arranged along the walls. In the centre, leather chairs were drawn round a table adorned with a green cover. This separated the candidates from the examiners in their red gowns and ermine shoulder-knots, the head examiners wearing gold-braided caps.

Frédéric found himself the last but one in the group—an unfortunate place. In answer to the first question, as to the difference between a convention and a contract, he defined the one as if it were the other; and the professor, who was a fair sort of man, said to him, “Don’t be agitated, Monsieur! Compose yourself!” Then, having asked two easy questions, which were answered in a doubtful fashion, he passed on at last to the fourth candidate. This wretched beginning demoralized Frédéric. Deslauriers, who was facing him amongst the spectators, made a sign to him to indicate that it was not a hopeless case yet; and at the second batch of questions, dealing with the criminal law, he came out tolerably well. But after the third, with regard to sealed wills, while the examiner remained impassive the whole time, his mental distress doubled; for Hussonnet brought his hands together as if to applaud, whilst Deslauriers shrugged his shoulders. Finally, the moment was reached when it was necessary to be examined on Procedure. The professor, displeased at listening to theories opposed to his own, asked him in a brusque tone:

“And so this is your view, monsieur? How do you reconcile the principle of article 1351 of the Civil Code with this application by a third party to set aside a judgment by default?”

Frédéric had a great headache from not having slept the night before. A ray of sunlight, penetrating through one of the slits in a Venetian blind, fell on his face. Standing behind the seat, he kept wriggling about and tugging at his moustache.

“I am still awaiting your answer,” the man with the gold-braided cap observed.

And as Frédéric’s movements, no doubt, irritated him:

“You won’t find it in that moustache of yours!”

This sarcasm made the spectators laugh. The professor, feeling flattered, relented. He put two more questions with reference to adjournment and summary jurisdiction, then nodded his head by way of approval. The examination was over. Frédéric retired into the vestibule.

While an usher was taking off his gown, to draw it over some other person immediately afterwards, his friends gathered around him, and succeeded in bothering him with their conflicting opinions as to the result of his examination. Presently the announcement was made in a sonorous voice at the entrance of the hall: “The third candidate was—referred back!”

“Sent packing!” said Hussonnet. “Let us be on our way!”

In front of the concierge’s lodge they met Martinon, flushed, excited, with a smile on his face and the halo of victory around his brow. He had just passed his final examination without any impediment. All he had now to do was the thesis. Before a fortnight he would be a licentiate. His family enjoyed the acquaintance of a Minister; “a beautiful career” was opening before him.