“No, I was to sign my policy the day after the event.”
“Ah,” exclaimed the man of law; “and to think that I have been told you set the flat on fire yourself, for the sake of picking up a large sum for damages!”
I shrugged my shoulders, for I had seen insinuations to this effect in a newspaper. I was very young at this time, but I already had a certain disdain for tittle-tattle.
“Oh, well, I must arrange matters for you, if things are like this,” said Maître C——. “You are really better off than you imagine as regards the money on your father’s side,” he continued. “As your grandmother leaves you an annuity, you can get a good amount for this by agreeing to insure your life for 250,000 francs for forty years, for the benefit of the purchaser.” I agreed to everything, and was only too delighted at such a windfall. This man promised to send me, two days after his return, 120,000 francs, and he kept his word.
My reason for giving the details of this little episode, which after all belongs to my life, is to show how differently things turn out from what seems likely, according to logic or according to our own expectations. It is quite certain that the accident, which just then happened to me, scattered to the winds the hopes and plans of my life. I had arranged for myself a luxurious home with the money that my father and his mother had left me. I had reserved and placed out the amount necessary to complete my monthly salary for the next two years, and I was reckoning that at the end of the two years I should be in a position to demand a very large salary. And all these arrangements had been upset by the carelessness of a domestic. I had rich relatives and very rich friends, but not one among them stretched out a hand to help me out of the ditch into which I had fallen. My rich relatives had not forgiven me for going on to the stage. And yet, Heaven knows what tears it had cost me to take up this career that had been forced upon me! My Uncle Faure came to see me at my mother’s house, but my aunt would not listen to a word about me. I used to see my cousin secretly, and sometimes his pretty sister. My rich friends considered that I was wildly extravagant, and could not understand why I did not place the money I had inherited in good, sound investments.
I received a great deal of poetry on the subject of my fire. Most of the pieces were anonymous; I have kept them, however, and I quote the following one, which is rather nice:
Passant, te voilà sans abri:
La flamme a ravagé ton gîte.
Hier plus léger qu’un colibri;
Ton esprit aujourd’hui s’agite,