Driving a BargainCunctando restituit rem.

　　ENNIUS'Answer me, without lying, if you can, you miserable bookworm; howdo you come to know Madame de Renal? When have you spoken toher?'

　　'I have never spoken to her,' replied Julien, 'I have never seen the ladyexcept in church.'

　　'But you must have looked at her, you shameless scoundrel?'

　　'Never! You know that in church I see none but God,' Julien addedwith a hypocritical air, calculated, to his mind, to ward off further blows.

　　'There is something behind this, all the same,' replied the suspiciouspeasant, and was silent for a moment; 'but I shall get nothing out of you,you damned hypocrite. The fact is, I'm going to be rid of you, and mysaw will run all the better without you. You have made a friend of theparson or someone, and he's got you a fine post. Go and pack your traps,and I'll take you to M. de Renal's where you're to be tutor to thechildren.'

　　'What am I to get for that?'

　　'Board, clothing and three hundred francs in wages.'

　　'I do not wish to be a servant,'

　　'Animal, who ever spoke of your being a servant? Would I allow myson to be a servant?'

　　'But, with whom shall I have my meals?'

　　This question left old Sorel at a loss; he felt that if he spoke he might beguilty of some imprudence; he flew into a rage with Julien, upon whomhe showered abuse, accusing him of greed, and left him to go and consult his other sons.

　　 Presently Julien saw them, each leaning upon his axe and deliberatingtogether. After watching them for some time, Julien, seeing that he couldmake out nothing of their discussion, went and took his place on the farside of the saw, so as not to be taken by surprise. He wanted time to consider this sudden announcement which was altering his destiny, but felthimself to be incapable of prudence; his imagination was wholly takenup with forming pictures of what he would see in M. de Renal's finehouse.

　　'I must give up all that,' he said to himself, 'rather than let myself bebrought down to feeding with the servants. My father will try to forceme; I would sooner die. I have saved fifteen francs and eight sous, I shallrun away tonight; in two days, by keeping to side-roads where I neednot fear the police, I can be at Besancon; there I enlist as a soldier, and, ifnecessary, cross the border into Switzerland. But then, good-bye toeverything, good-bye to that fine clerical profession which is a stepping-stone to everything.'

　　This horror of feeding with the servants was not natural to Julien; hewould, in seeking his fortune, have done other things far more disagreeable. He derived this repugnance from Rousseau's Confessions. It was theone book that helped his imagination to form any idea of the world. Thecollection of reports of the Grand Army and the Memorial de Sainte-Helenecompleted his Koran. He would have gone to the stake for those threebooks. Never did he believe in any other. Remembering a saying of theold Surgeon-Major, he regarded all the other books in the world as liars,written by rogues in order to obtain advancement.

　　With his fiery nature Julien had one of those astonishing memories sooften found in foolish people. To win over the old priest Chelan, uponwhom he saw quite clearly that his own future depended, he hadlearned by heart the entire New Testament in Latin; he knew also M. deMaistre's book Du Pape, and had as little belief in one as in the other.

　　As though by a mutual agreement, Sorel and his son avoided speakingto one another for the rest of the day. At dusk, Julien went to the cure forhis divinity lesson, but did not think it prudent to say anything to him ofthe strange proposal that had been made to his father. 'It may be a trap,'

　　he told himself; 'I must pretend to have forgotten about it.'

　　Early on the following day, M. de Renal sent for old Sorel, who, afterkeeping him waiting for an hour or two, finally appeared, beginning ashe entered the door a hundred excuses interspersed with as many reverences. By dint of giving voice to every sort of objection, Sorel succeeded in gathering that his son was to take his meals with the master and mistress of the house, and on days when they had company in a room byhimself with the children. Finding an increasing desire to raise difficulties the more he discerned a genuine anxiety on the Mayor's part, andbeing moreover filled with distrust and bewilderment, Sorel asked to seethe room in which his son was to sleep. It was a large chamber very decently furnished, but the servants were already engaged in carrying intoit the beds of the three children.

　　At this the old peasant began to see daylight; he at once asked with assurance to see the coat which would be given to his son. M. de Renalopened his desk and took out a hundred francs.

　　'With this money, your son can go to M. Durand, the clothier, and gethimself a suit of black.'

　　'And supposing I take him away from you,' said the peasant, who hadcompletely forgotten the reverential forms of address. 'Will he take thisblack coat with him?'

　　'Certainly.'

　　'Oh, very well!' said Sorel in a drawling tone, 'then there's only onething for us still to settle: the money you're to give him.'

　　'What!' M. de Renal indignantly exclaimed, 'we agreed upon that yesterday: I give three hundred francs; I consider that plenty, if not toomuch.'

　　'That was your offer, I do not deny it,' said old Sorel, speaking evenmore slowly; then, by a stroke of genius which will astonish only thosewho do not know the Franc-Comtois peasant, he added, looking M. deRenal steadily in the face: 'We can do better elsewhere.'

　　At these words the Mayor was thrown into confusion. He recoveredhimself, however, and, after an adroit conversation lasting fully twohours, in which not a word was said without a purpose, the peasant'sshrewdness prevailed over that of the rich man, who was not dependenton his for his living. All the innumerable conditions which were to determine Julien's new existence were finally settled; not only was hissalary fixed at four hundred francs, but it was to be paid in advance, onthe first day of each month.

　　'Very well! I shall let him have thirty-five francs,' said M. de Renal.

　　'To make a round sum, a rich and generous gentleman like our Mayor,'

　　the peasant insinuated in a coaxing voice, 'will surely go as far as thirty-six.'

　　 'All right,' said M. de Renal, 'but let us have no more of this.'

　　For once, anger gave him a tone of resolution. The peasant saw that hecould advance no farther. Thereupon M. de Renal began in turn to makeheadway. He utterly refused to hand over the thirty-six francs for thefirst month to old Sorel, who was most eager to receive the money on hisson's behalf. It occurred to M. de Renal that he would be obliged to describe to his wife the part he had played throughout this transaction.

　　'Let me have back the hundred francs I gave you,' he said angrily. 'M.

　　Durand owes me money. I shall go with your son to choose the blackcloth.'

　　After this bold stroke, Sorel prudently retired upon his expressions ofrespect; they occupied a good quarter of an hour. In the end, seeing thatthere was certainly nothing more to be gained, he withdrew. His finalreverence ended with the words:

　　'I shall send my son up to the chateau.'

　　It was thus that the Mayor's subordinates spoke of his house whenthey wished to please him.

　　Returning to his mill, Sorel looked in vain for his son. Doubtful as towhat might be in store for him, Julien had left home in the dead of night.

　　He had been anxious to find a safe hiding-place for his books and hisCross of the Legion of Honour. He had removed the whole of his treasures to the house of a young timber-merchant, a friend of his, by thename of Fouque, who lived on the side of the high mountain overlookingVerrieres.

　　When he reappeared: 'Heaven knows, you damned idler,' his fathersaid to him, 'whether you will ever have enough honour to pay me forthe cost of your keep, which I have been advancing to you all theseyears! Pack up your rubbish, and off with you to the Mayor's.'

　　Julien, astonished not to receive a thrashing, made haste to set off. Butno sooner was he out of sight of his terrible father than he slackened hispace. He decided that it would serve the ends of his hypocrisy to pay avisit to the church.

　　The idea surprises you? Before arriving at this horrible idea, the soulof the young peasant had had a long way to go.

　　When he was still a child, the sight of certain dragoons of the 6th, intheir long, white cloaks, and helmets adorned with long crests of blackhorsehair, who were returning from Italy, and whom Julien saw tying their horses to the barred window of his father's house, drove him madwith longing for a military career.

　　Later on he listened with ecstasy to the accounts of the battles of theBridge of Lodi, Arcole and Rivoli given him by the old Surgeon-Major.

　　He noticed the burning gaze which the old man directed at his Cross.

　　But when Julien was fourteen, they began to build a church at Verrieres, one that might be called magnificent for so small a town. Therewere, in particular, four marble pillars the sight of which impressed Julien; they became famous throughout the countryside, owing to thedeadly enmity which they aroused between the Justice of the Peace andthe young vicar, sent down from Besancon, who was understood to bethe spy of the Congregation. The Justice of the Peace came within an aceof losing his post, such at least was the common report. Had he notdared to have a difference of opinion with a priest who, almost everyfortnight, went to Besancon, where he saw, people said, the Right Reverend Lord Bishop?

　　In the midst of all this, the Justice of the Peace, the father of a largefamily, passed a number of sentences which appeared unjust; all of thesewere directed against such of the inhabitants as read the Constitutionnel.

　　The right party was triumphant. The sums involved amounted, it wastrue, to no more than four or five francs; but one of these small fines waslevied upon a nailsmith, Julien's godfather. In his anger, this man exclaimed: 'What a change! And to think that, for twenty years and more,the Justice was reckoned such an honest man!' The Surgeon-Major,Julien's friend, was dead.

　　All at once Julien ceased to speak of Napoleon; he announced his intention of becoming a priest, and was constantly to be seen, in hisfather's sawmill, engaged in learning by heart a Latin Bible which thecure had lent him. The good old man, amazed at his progress, devotedwhole evenings to instructing him in divinity. Julien gave utterance inhis company to none but pious sentiments. Who could have supposedthat that girlish face, so pale and gentle, hid the unshakeable determination to expose himself to the risk of a thousand deaths rather than fail tomake his fortune?

　　To Julien, making a fortune meant in the first place leaving Verrieres;he loathed his native place. Everything that he saw there froze hisimagination.

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　　 From his earliest boyhood, he had had moments of exaltation. At suchtimes he dreamed with rapture that one day he would be introduced tothe beautiful ladies of Paris; he would manage to attract their attentionby some brilliant action. Why should he not be loved by one of them, asBonaparte, when still penniless, had been loved by the brilliant Madamede Beauharnais? For many years now, perhaps not an hour of Julien's lifehad passed without his reminding himself that Bonaparte, an obscuresubaltern with no fortune, had made himself master of the world withhis sword. This thought consoled him for his misfortunes which hedeemed to be great, and enhanced his joy when joy came his way.

　　The building of the church and the sentences passed by the Justicebrought him sudden enlightenment; an idea which occurred to himdrove him almost out of his senses for some weeks, and finally took possession of him with the absolute power of the first idea which a passionate nature believes itself to have discovered.

　　'When Bonaparte made a name for himself, France was in fear of beinginvaded; military distinction was necessary and fashionable. Today wesee priests at forty drawing stipends of a hundred thousand francs, thatis to say three times as much as the famous divisional commanders under Napoleon. They must have people to support them. Look at theJustice here, so wise a man, always so honest until now, sacrificing hishonour, at his age, from fear of offending a young vicar of thirty. I mustbecome a priest.'

　　On one occasion, in the midst of his new-found piety, after Julien hadbeen studying divinity for two years, he was betrayed by a sudden blazeof the fire that devoured his spirit. This was at M. Chelan's; at a dinnerparty of priests, to whom the good cure had introduced him as an educational prodigy, he found himself uttering frenzied praise of Napoleon.

　　He bound his right arm across his chest, pretending that he had put thearm out of joint when shifting a fir trunk, and kept it for two months inthis awkward position. After this drastic penance, he forgave himself.

　　Such is the young man of eighteen, but weak in appearance, whom youwould have said to be, at the most, seventeen, who, carrying a small parcel under his arm, was entering the magnificent church of Verrieres.

　　He found it dark and deserted. In view of some festival, all the windows in the building had been covered with crimson cloth; the effect ofthis, when the sun shone, was a dazzling blaze of light, of the most imposing and most religious character. Julien shuddered. Being alone in the church, he took his seat on the bench that had the most handsome appearance. It bore the arms of M. de Renal.

　　On the desk in front, Julien observed a scrap of printed paper, spreadout there as though to be read. He looked at it closely and saw:

　　'Details of the execution and of the last moments of Louis Jenrel, executed at Besancon, on the … '

　　The paper was torn. On the other side he read the opening words of aline, which were: 'The first step.'

　　'Who can have put this paper here?' said Julien. 'Poor wretch!' he added with a sigh, 'his name has the same ending as mine.' And hecrumpled up the paper.

　　On his way out, Julien thought he saw blood by the holy water stoup;it was some of the water that had been spilt: the light from the red curtains which draped the windows made it appear like blood.

　　Finally, Julien felt ashamed of his secret terror.

　　'Should I prove coward?' he said to himself. 'To arms!'

　　This phrase, so often repeated in the old Surgeon's accounts of battles,had a heroic sound in Julien's ears. He rose and walked rapidly to M. deRenal's house.

　　Despite these brave resolutions, as soon as he caught sight of thehouse twenty yards away he was overcome by an unconquerable shyness. The iron gate stood open; it seemed to him magnificent. He wouldhave now to go in through it.

　　Julien was not the only person whose heart was troubled by his arrivalin this household. Madame de Renal's extreme timidity was disconcertedby the idea of this stranger who, in the performance of his duty, wouldbe constantly coming between her and her children. She was accustomedto having her sons sleep in her own room. That morning, many tears hadflowed when she saw their little beds being carried into the apartmentintended for the tutor. In vain did she beg her husband to let the bed ofStanislas Xavier, the youngest boy, be taken back to her room.

　　Womanly delicacy was carried to excess in Madame de Renal. Sheformed a mental picture of a coarse, unkempt creature, employed toscold her children, simply because he knew Latin, a barbarous tongue forthe sake of which her sons would be whipped.