The Two Brothers | Page 8

fortune of her sons in future
years.
From the time of her marriage to the death of her husband, Agathe had
held no communication with Issoudun. She lost her mother just as she
was on the point of giving birth to her youngest son, and when her
father, who, as she well knew, loved her little, died, the coronation of
the Emperor was at hand, and that event gave Bridau so much
additional work that she was unwilling to leave him. Her brother,

Jean-Jacques Rouget, had not written to her since she left Issoudun.
Though grieved by the tacit repudiation of her family, Agathe had
come to think seldom of those who never thought of her. Once a year
she received a letter from her godmother, Madame Hochon, to whom
she replied with commonplaces, paying no heed to the advice which
that pious and excellent woman gave to her, disguised in cautious
words.
Some time before the death of Doctor Rouget, Madame Hochon had
written to her goddaughter warning her that she would get nothing from
her father's estate unless she gave a power of attorney to Monsieur
Hochon. Agathe was very reluctant to harass her brother. Whether it
were that Bridau thought the spoliation of his wife in accordance with
the laws and customs of Berry, or that, high-minded as he was, he
shared the magnanimity of his wife, certain it is that he would not listen
to Roguin, his notary, who advised him to take advantage of his
ministerial position to contest the deeds by which the father had
deprived the daughter of her legitimate inheritance. Husband and wife
thus tacitly sanctioned what was done at Issoudun. Nevertheless,
Roguin had forced Bridau to reflect upon the future interests of his wife
which were thus compromised. He saw that if he died before her,
Agathe would be left without property, and this led him to look into his
own affairs. He found that between 1793 and 1805 his wife and he had
been obliged to use nearly thirty thousand of the fifty thousand francs
in cash which old Rouget had given to his daughter at the time of her
marriage. He at once invested the remaining twenty thousand in the
public funds, then quoted at forty, and from this source Agathe received
about two thousand francs a year. As a widow, Madame Bridau could
live suitably on an income of six thousand francs. With provincial good
sense, she thought of changing her residence, dismissing the footman,
and keeping no servant except a cook; but her intimate friend, Madame
Descoings, who insisted on being considered her aunt, sold her own
establishment and came to live with Agathe, turning the study of the
late Bridau into her bedroom.
The two widows clubbed their revenues, and so were in possession of a
joint income of twelve thousand francs a year. This seems a very

simple and natural proceeding. But nothing in life is more deserving of
attention than the things that are called natural; we are on our guard
against the unnatural and extraordinary. For this reason, you will find
men of experience--lawyers, judges, doctors, and priests-- attaching
immense importance to simple matters; and they are often thought
over-scrupulous. But the serpent amid flowers is one of the finest
myths that antiquity has bequeathed for the guidance of our lives. How
often we hear fools, trying to excuse themselves in their own eyes or in
the eyes of others, exclaiming, "It was all so natural that any one would
have been taken in."
In 1809, Madame Descoings, who never told her age, was sixty-five. In
her heyday she had been popularly called a beauty, and was now one of
those rare women whom time respects. She owed to her excellent
constitution the privilege of preserving her good looks, which, however,
would not bear close examination. She was of medium height, plump,
and fresh, with fine shoulders and a rather rosy complexion. Her blond
hair, bordering on chestnut, showed, in spite of her husband's
catastrophe, not a tinge of gray. She loved good cheer, and liked to
concoct nice little made dishes; yet, fond as she was of eating, she also
adored the theatre and cherished a vice which she wrapped in
impenetrable mystery--she bought into lotteries. Can that be the abyss
of which mythology warns us under the fable of the Danaides and their
cask? Madame Descoings, like other women who are lucky enough to
keep young for many years, spend rather too much upon her dress; but
aside from these trifling defects she was the pleasantest of women to
live with. Of every one's opinion, never opposing anybody, her kindly
and communicative gayety gave pleasure to all. She had, moreover, a
Parisian quality which charmed the retired clerks and elderly merchants
of her