France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
From vexation to vexation, a thousand francs at a time, the banker had
gone so far as to offer sixty thousand francs to Madame de Saint-Esteve,
who still refused to help him, with a grimace that would have outdone
any monkey. After a disturbed night, after confessing to himself that
Esther completely upset his ideas, after realizing some unexpected turns
of fortune on the Bourse, he came to her one day, intending to give the
hundred thousand francs on which Asie insisted, but he was determined to
have plenty of information for the money.
“Well, have you made up your mind, old higgler?” said Asie, clapping him
on the shoulder.
The most dishonoring familiarity is the first tax these women levy on
the frantic passions or griefs that are confided to them; they never
rise to the level of their clients; they make them seem squat beside
them on their mudheap. Asie, it will be seen, obeyed her master
admirably.
“Need must!” said Nucingen.
“And you have the best of the bargain,” said Asie. “Women have been sold
much dearer than this one to you--relatively speaking. There are women
and women! De Marsay paid sixty thousand francs for Coralie, who is dead
now. The woman you want cost a hundred thousand francs when new; but to
you, you old goat, it is a matter of agreement.”
“But vere is she?”
“Ah! you shall see. I am like you--a gift for a gift! Oh, my good man,
your adored one has been extravagant. These girls know no moderation.
Your princess is at this moment what we call a fly by night----”
“A fly----?”
“Come, come, don’t play the simpleton.--Louchard is at her heels, and
I--I--have lent her fifty thousand francs----”
“Twenty-fife say!” cried the banker.
“Well, of course, twenty-five for fifty, that is only natural,” replied
Asie. “To do the woman justice, she is honesty itself. She had nothing
left but herself, and says she to me: ‘My good Madame Saint-Esteve,
the bailiffs are after me; no one can help me but you. Give me twenty
thousand francs. I will pledge my heart to you.’ Oh, she has a sweet
heart; no one but me knows where it lies. Any folly on my part, and I
should lose my twenty thousand francs.
“Formerly she lived in the Rue Taitbout. Before leaving--(her furniture
was seized for costs--those rascally bailiffs--You know them, you who
are one of the great men on the Bourse)--well, before leaving, she is
no fool, she let her rooms for two months to an Englishwoman, a splendid
creature who had a little thingummy--Rubempre--for a lover, and he was
so jealous that he only let her go out at night. But as the furniture is
to be seized, the Englishwoman has cut her stick, all the more because
she cost too much for a little whipper-snapper like Lucien.”
“You cry up de goots,” said Nucingen.
“Naturally,” said Asie. “I lend to the beauties; and it pays, for you
get two commissions for one job.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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