“You were born to be the wife of a scientific worker, as you said by the weir,” said David, grasping her hand tenderly.
But though the Séchard household had money sufficient that winter, they were none the less subjected to Cérizet’s espionage, and all unconsciously became dependent upon Boniface Cointet.
“We have them now!” the manager of the paper-mill had exclaimed as he left the house with his brother the printer. “They will begin to regard the rent as regular income; they will count upon it and run themselves into debt. In six months’ time we will decline to renew the agreement, and then we shall see what this man of genius has at the bottom of his mind; we will offer to help him out of his difficulty by taking him into partnership and exploiting his discovery.”
Any shrewd man of business who should have seen tall Cointet’s face as he uttered those words, “taking him into partnership,” would have known that it behooves a man to be even more careful in the selection of the partner whom he takes before the Tribunal of Commerce than in the choice of the wife whom he weds at the Mayor’s office. Was it not enough already, and more than enough, that the ruthless hunters were on the track of the quarry? How should David and his wife, with Kolb and Marion to help them, escape the toils of a Boniface Cointet?
A draft for five hundred francs came from Lucien, and this, with Cérizet’s second payment, enabled them to meet all the expenses of Mme. Séchard’s confinement. Eve and the mother and David had thought that Lucien had forgotten them, and rejoiced over this token of remembrance as they rejoiced over his success, for his first exploits in journalism made even more noise in Angoulême than in Paris.
But David, thus lulled into a false security, was to receive a staggering blow, a cruel letter from Lucien:—
Lucien to David.
“MY DEAR DAVID,—I have drawn three bills on you, and negotiated
them with Métivier; they fall due in one, two, and three months’
time. I took this hateful course, which I know will burden you
heavily, because the one alternative was suicide. I will explain
my necessity some time, and I will try besides to send the amounts
as the bills fall due.
“Burn this letter; say nothing to my mother and sister; for, I
confess it, I have counted upon you, upon the heroism known so
well to your despairing brother,
“LUCIEN DE RUBEMPRE.”
By this time Eve had recovered from her confinement.
“Your brother, poor fellow, is in desperate straits,” David told her. “I have sent him three bills for a thousand francs at one, two, and three months; just make a note of them,” and he went out into the fields to escape his wife’s questionings.
But Eve had felt very uneasy already. It was six months since Lucien had written to them. She talked over the news with her mother till her forebodings grew so dark that she made up her mind to dissipate them. She would take a bold step in her despair.