France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
And yet Denoisel only possessed between four and five thousand pounds.
Belonging to a family that had been steeped in the ideas of the past
with regard to property, attached and devoted to landed wealth, always
talking of bankruptcy, and as mistrustful of stocks and shares as
peasants formerly were of bank-notes, Denoisel had shaken himself free
of all the prejudices of his own people. Without troubling about the
advice, the remonstrances, the indignation, and the threats of old and
distant relatives, he had sold the small farms which his father and
mother had left him. It seemed to him that there was no longer any
proportion between the revenue of land and the expenses of modern life.
In his opinion landed estate might have been a means of wealth at the
time when Paul de Kock's novels said of a young man, "Paul was rich, he
had two hundred and fifty a year." But since that time it had, according
to him, become an anachronism, a kind of archaic property, a fancy fox
which was only permissible in very wealthy people. He therefore realized
his land and turned it into a small capital, which he placed, after
consulting with a friend of his who frequented the Stock Exchange, in
foreign bonds, in shares and securities, thus doubling and tripling his
revenue without any risk to his regular income. Having thus converted
his capital into a figure which meant nothing, except in the eyes of a
notary, and which no longer regulated his current means, Denoisel
arranged his life as he had done his money. He organized his expenses.
He knew exactly the cost in Paris of vanity, little extras, bargains,
and all such ruinous things. He was not ashamed to add up a bill himself
before paying it. Away from home he only smoked fourpenny cigars, but at
home he smoked pipes. He knew where to buy things, discovered the new
shops, which give such good value during the first three months. He knew
the wine-cellars at the various restaurants, ordered Chambertin a
certain distance up the boulevards, and only ordered it there. If he
gave a dinner, his _menu_ won the respect of the waiter. And with all
that, he knew how to order supper for four shillings at the Cafe
Anglais.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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