The coach stopped before a pretty house, newly built in the Rue
d’Artois, where Gaudissart and Jenny climbed to the fourth story. This
was the abode of Mademoiselle Jenny Courand, commonly reported to be
privately married to the illustrious Gaudissart, a rumor which that
individual did not deny. To maintain her supremacy, Jenny kept him
to the performance of innumerable small attentions, and threatened
continually to turn him off if he omitted the least of them. She now
ordered him to write to her from every town, and render a minute account
of all his proceedings.
“How many ‘Children’ will it take to furnish my chamber?” she asked,
throwing off her shawl and sitting down by a good fire.
“I get five sous for each subscriber.”
“Delightful! And is it with five sous that you expect to make me rich?
Perhaps you are like the Wandering Jew with your pockets full of money.”
“But, Jenny, I shall get a thousand ‘Children.’ Just reflect that
children have never had a newspaper to themselves before. But what a
fool I am to try to explain matters to you,--you can’t understand such
things.”
“Can’t I? Then tell me,--tell me, Gaudissart, if I’m such a goose why do
you love me?”
“Just because you are a goose,--a sublime goose! Listen, Jenny.
See here, I am going to undertake the ‘Globe,’ the ‘Movement,’ the
‘Children,’ the insurance business, and some of my old articles Paris;
instead of earning a miserable eight thousand a year, I’ll bring back
twenty thousand at least from each trip.”
“Unlace me, Gaudissart, and do it right; don’t tighten me.”
“Yes, truly,” said the traveller, complacently; “I shall become a
shareholder in the newspapers, like Finot, one of my friends, the son
of a hatter, who now has thirty thousand francs income, and is going
to make himself a peer of France. When one thinks of that little
Popinot,--ah, mon Dieu! I forgot to tell you that Monsieur Popinot was
named minister of commerce yesterday. Why shouldn’t I be ambitious too?
Ha! ha! I could easily pick up the jargon of those fellows who talk in
the chamber, and bluster with the rest of them. Now, listen to me:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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