“Read that!”
“Monsieur Grandet, one of the most respected merchants in Paris,
blew his brains out yesterday, after making his usual appearance
at the Bourse. He had sent his resignation to the president of the
Chamber of Deputies, and had also resigned his functions as a
judge of the commercial courts. The failures of Monsieur Roguin
and Monsieur Souchet, his broker and his notary, had ruined him.
The esteem felt for Monsieur Grandet and the credit he enjoyed
were nevertheless such that he might have obtained the necessary
assistance from other business houses. It is much to be regretted
that so honorable a man should have yielded to momentary despair,”
etc.
“I knew it,” said the old wine-grower to the notary.
The words sent a chill of horror through Maitre Cruchot, who, notwithstanding his impassibility as a notary, felt the cold running down his spine as he thought that Grandet of Paris had possibly implored in vain the millions of Grandet of Saumur.
“And his son, so joyous yesterday—”
“He knows nothing as yet,” answered Grandet, with the same composure.
“Adieu! Monsieur Grandet,” said Cruchot, who now understood the state of the case, and went off to reassure Monsieur de Bonfons.
On entering, Grandet found breakfast ready. Madame Grandet, round whose neck Eugenie had flung her arms, kissing her with the quick effusion of feeling often caused by secret grief, was already seated in her chair on castors, knitting sleeves for the coming winter.
“You can begin to eat,” said Nanon, coming downstairs four steps at a time; “the young one is sleeping like a cherub. Isn’t he a darling with his eyes shut? I went in and I called him: no answer.”
“Let him sleep,” said Grandet; “he’ll wake soon enough to hear ill-tidings.”