Evgeny Bazarov's profession is fathers and children. Composition "Bazarov -" a new man "

"Gobsek" is impressive deep meaning and moral background of the story. This work is associated with Balzac's novel "Father Goriot", and some of the characters flash in other works of the French writer, for example, in the novel "The Human Comedy".

History of creation

Working on a literary work, Balzac carefully formed the description of the characters, raised the problems that worried him and exposed the vices. Greed, vanity, hypocrisy have always reproached the author. Apart from main idea story, Balzac pondered how to give the work an artistic sophistication. He tried to preserve the persuasiveness of the characteristics, to make sure that the characters assembled in the ensemble of the work personified the contemporary era of the author.

The exact date of writing is disputed by historians. After the death of the writer, three editions of the work were found, in which he made edits for 18 years. The basis for the story was short story"Pawnbroker", written by Balzac to order for the magazine "Modnik". It served as the basis for the first chapter of a work called "The Perils of Debauchery." In 1832 it was translated into Russian, and already in 1835 the public accepted the updated version of the story. The name was changed to "Papa Gobsek", which readers associated with the name "Father Goriot".

Balzac gave the current title to the novel in 1848, when, in a fit of inspiration, he returned to editing again. He removed the gentle treatment "dad", deciding to introduce the reader to a rude and greedy moneylender with unusual biography.

In both versions of the story, Balzac denounced the victims of money and pledges, as well as those who had power over them in the form of bills. In Balzac's work, aristocrats and ordinary strata of the population are opposed; those who are used to working without rest, and those who know how to spend gold, burning through life.

Art historians suggest that "Gobsek" is based on real events witnessed by the author of the work. The story is called autobiographical, seeing parallels with Balzac's personal life. The writer discusses in his works the meaning of money, condemning their all-consuming power. The drama that masculine and female images, unpredictable collisions, a high degree of moralism bribe anyone who gets acquainted with the work of Balzac in general and the story "Gobsek" in particular.

Biography

All the characters in the story are described in detail by the author and have detailed characteristics. Gobsek's appearance says a lot about the character. An old man with a yellowish face of a rounded shape and unpleasant features does not cause sympathy. The nationality of the hero is hidden. His past is shrouded in a veil of secrecy, but it is clear that the life of a pawnbroker was rich and varied. Gobseck argues that difficulties and grief make a person strong, they also increase susceptibility.

Analysis of the hero suggests that in his youth he was a pirate. Avarice and selfishness helped to amass some fortune, which he used by lending money at high interest. For the impregnability and severity of the old man was called the "golden idol." Gobsek was in demand among his milieu. After dividing the "service areas" between the city moneylenders, he began to work with aristocrats and representatives of the cream of society. At the same time, in any situation, no matter how ticklish it may be, he remained adamant in his decisions.

Gobsek is the epitome of greed. The image combines romantic and realistic literary traditions. The appearance of the character speaks of noble old age, wisdom and experience. worldly wisdom and his actions make him a soulless money-making machine. The more the condition of the usurer became, the less humanity remained in him. The best professional in his field, he demonstrates a high degree of preparation for working with finance, foresight and insight.

A quick-witted pawnbroker deftly pulls off scams while remaining a diplomat. A businessman and an experienced businessman, the hero gives advice, invests money, benefiting society, but does not follow the lead of idleness. The character attracts with honesty and philosophical view. All the arguments that he voices are backed up by experience from his past life.

Gobsek was a ship cadet in his youth, traded in precious stones and slaves, was in the service of the state. He was driven by the instinct of self-preservation, which allowed the hero to survive in difficult situations with whom he has encountered in his career.

The end of the moneylender's life is amazing. His life was spent in hoarding, which brought neither pleasure nor benefit. Closer to death, the romantic nature prevailed over the rational grain, so the Gobsek inheritance will go to the sister's granddaughter.

Plot

The action begins with a conversation between Derville, Count Ernest de Resto and the Viscountess de Granlier in her salon. The daughter of a high-ranking person showed a clear disposition towards the count, for which she was reproached by her mother. Ernest, without status and wealth, was a disadvantageous match for her daughter. Hearing this dialogue, Derville cites the story of Gobsek as an example, which the reader perceives from his lips as from a narrator.

The acquaintance of Derville and the usurer has been going on for a long time. During this time, Gobsek gained confidence in the lawyer Derville and told the story of how he once collected an impressive debt from a countess who was in a difficult situation. The woman was forced to pawn the diamonds, and the money went to her lover through a promissory note. The usurer's hint that he would ruin the countess' family was not heard, but was soon justified.

Later, Maxime de Tray, a favorite of society, who needed the help of a usurer, turned to Derville for help. Gobsek refused to provide services, knowing about the handsome man's debts. The previously designated countess again began to come to Gobsek, pawning jewelry. She did this for the sake of de Tray, who vilely threatened to commit suicide. The husband of the countess found out about the deal, nobly concealing his wife's connection. This man was the father of Ernest de Resto, who fell in love with the daughter of the viscountess.

Some time later, the count fell mortally ill, and after his death, the countess burned the will, thereby transferring the family's property into the hands of Gobsek.

Derville was an intermediary in the issue of returning the inheritance to Ernest de Resto, but the usurer did not make concessions. The usurer died in terrible conditions, becoming a hostage to his own avarice and greed. The condition was returned to the rightful owner. The marriage of the viscountess' daughter was arranged not without the efforts of Derville.

Screen adaptations

Works of classical literature became the first material used for visualization in cinema. Balzac directors did not ignore. The first film based on the story "Gobsek" was released in 1936. He took it off Soviet director Konstantin Eggert. The role of the protagonist was played by actor Leonid Leonidov. Alexander Shatov appeared in the image of Derville. It is curious that the director himself appeared in the image of the Count de Resto in the picture.

In 1987, director Alexander Orlov offered the public his own version of the story. The screen adaptation was prepared in the USSR, at the Moldova-film studio. Gobsek in the film was played by Vladimir Tatosov. The role of Derville went to Sergei Bekhterev. The tape became one of the first in the filmography, reincarnated in the frame as the Countess de Resto. The young Count de Resto was played by a theater director, being at that time still a boy.

The lawyer Derville tells the story of the usurer Gobsek in the salon of the Vicomtesse de Granlie, one of the most noble and wealthy ladies in the aristocratic Faubourg Saint-Germain. One day, in the winter of 1829/30, two guests stayed with her: the young handsome Count Ernest de Resto and Derville, who is easily accepted only because he helped the mistress of the house to return the property confiscated during the Revolution.

When Ernest leaves, the viscountess reprimands her daughter Camilla: one should not show affection to the dear count so frankly, because not a single decent family will agree to intermarry with him because of his mother. Although now she behaves impeccably, she caused a lot of gossip in her youth. In addition, she is of low birth - her father was a grain merchant Goriot. But worst of all, she squandered her fortune on her lover, leaving the children penniless. Count Ernest de Resto is poor, and therefore not a match for Camille de Granlier.

Derville, sympathetic to the lovers, intervenes in the conversation, wanting to explain to the viscountess the true state of affairs. He starts from afar: student years he had to live in a cheap boarding house - there he met Gobsek. Even then, he was a deep old man of a very remarkable appearance - with a “moon face”, yellow eyes like a ferret, a sharp long nose and thin lips. His victims sometimes lost their temper, cried or threatened, but the usurer himself always kept his composure - he was a “man-bill”, a “golden idol”. Of all the neighbors, he maintained relations only with Derville, to whom he once revealed the mechanism of his power over people - the world is ruled by gold, and the usurer owns the gold. For edification, he tells how he collected a debt from a noble lady - fearing exposure, this countess without hesitation handed him a diamond, because her lover received the money on her bill. Gobsek guessed the future of the Countess from the face of a fair-haired handsome man - this dandy, spendthrift and player is able to ruin the whole family.

After graduating from a law course, Derville received a position as a senior clerk in the attorney's office. In the winter of 1818/19, he was forced to sell his patent - and asked for one hundred and fifty thousand francs. Gobsek lent money to the young neighbor, taking only thirteen percent from him "for friendship" - he usually took at least fifty. at the cost hard work Derville managed to get even with the debt in five years.

Once, the brilliant dandy Count Maxime de Tray begged Derville to set him up with Gobsek, but the usurer flatly refused to give a loan to a man who had debts of three hundred thousand, and not a centime for his soul. At that moment, a carriage drove up to the house, the Comte de Tray rushed to the exit and returned with an unusually beautiful lady - according to the description, Derville immediately recognized in her the countess who issued the bill four years ago. This time she has pledged magnificent diamonds. Derville tried to prevent the deal, but as soon as Maxim hinted that he was going to commit suicide, the unfortunate woman agreed to the onerous terms of the loan.

After the lovers left, the countess's husband broke into Gobsek demanding the return of the mortgage - his wife had no right to dispose of the family jewels. Derville managed to settle the matter amicably, and the grateful usurer gave the count advice: to transfer all his property to a reliable friend through a fictitious sale transaction is the only way to save at least children from ruin. A few days later, the count came to Derville to find out what he thought about Gobsek. The lawyer replied that in the event of an untimely death, he would not be afraid to make Gobsek the guardian of his children, for in this miser and philosopher there live two creatures - vile and sublime. The count immediately decided to transfer all rights to the property to Gobsek, wanting to protect him from his wife and her greedy lover.

Taking advantage of a pause in the conversation, the viscountess sends her daughter to bed - a virtuous girl does not need to know to what a fall a woman who has transgressed certain boundaries can reach. After the departure of Camille, there is no need to hide the names - the story is about the Countess de Resto. Derville, having never received a counter receipt about the fictitiousness of the transaction, learns that the Comte de Resto is seriously ill. The Countess, sensing a trick, does her best to prevent the attorney from approaching her husband. The denouement comes in December 1824. By this time, the Countess was already convinced of the meanness of Maxime de Tray and broke up with him. She so zealously looks after her dying husband that many are inclined to forgive her former sins - in fact, she, like a predatory beast, lies in wait for her prey. The count, unable to get a meeting with Derville, wants to hand over the documents to his eldest son - but his wife cuts off this path too, trying to influence the boy with caress. In the last terrible scene, the Countess begs for forgiveness, but the Count remains adamant. That same night he dies, and the next day Gobsek and Derville come to the house. A terrible sight appears before their eyes: in search of a will, the countess made a real rout in the office, not even ashamed of the dead. Hearing the steps of strangers, she throws papers addressed to Derville into the fire - the count's property thereby undividedly passes into the possession of Gobsek.

The usurer rented out a mansion, and began to spend the summer like a lord - in his new estates. To all Derville's pleas to take pity on the repentant countess and her children, he replied that misfortune is the best teacher. Let Ernest de Resto know the value of people and money - then it will be possible to return his fortune. Having learned about the love of Ernest and Camille, Derville once again went to Gobsek and found the old man dying. The old miser bequeathed all his wealth to his sister's great-granddaughter - a public girl nicknamed "Spark". He instructed his executor Derville to dispose of the accumulated food supplies - and the lawyer really discovered huge stocks of rotten pate, moldy fish, and rotten coffee. By the end of his life, Gobsek's stinginess turned into mania - he did not sell anything, being afraid to sell too cheap. In conclusion, Derville reports that Ernest de Resto will soon regain his lost fortune. The viscountess replies that the young count must be very rich - only in this case he can marry Mademoiselle de Granlier. However, Camille is not at all obliged to meet with her mother-in-law, although the countess was not ordered to attend receptions - after all, she was received at Madame de Beausean's house.

The Vicomtesse de Granlie receives guests. She warns her seventeen-year-old niece against being too affectionate with the Comte de Resto - his mother, nee Goriot, has in the light bad reputation. One of the guests, the lawyer Derville, who sat up after midnight, offers to tell one interesting story.

The lawyer describes Gobsek, an old usurer of vile appearance: a yellowish-pale face (like silver, from which the gilding has peeled off), eyes small and yellow, like those of a ferret ...

The usurer was Derville's neighbor.

Painfully greedy, the old man lived from hand to mouth, saving even on firewood. He saved his emotions too. Only sometimes, when the day was especially successful, he rubbed his hands contentedly and laughed silently.

He hated his heirs (or rather, heirs) - he was outraged by the very idea that his wealth could go to someone else. The news of the death of his sister's granddaughter (the Beautiful Dutchwoman) left him indifferent.

Gobsek professes his philosophy: everything is relative, everything is changeable. What is considered a sin in Paris is quite acceptable in the Azores. The only unshakable and unchanging good is gold. All the forces of mankind are concentrated in it.

Playing cards, love affairs? It's all empty. Policy? Art? The science? This is a lie.

Only the desire for gold is true. Gobsek owns gold - and can observe all the secrets of the world, remaining indifferent and calm. It is strange that this dry and cold man had a stormy youth, full of adventure: at the age of ten, his mother attached him as a cabin boy on a ship sailing to the East Indies. Since then, Gobsek has experienced many terrible trials, which he did not tell anyone about.

Gobsek lends money at interest to desperate people, whom he calls "hunted deer". One day, the usurer told Derville about two women who signed the bills: the illustrious countess, the wife of the landowner and the modest Fann Malvaux.

Gobsek came to luxury home countesses in the morning, but they did not accept him - the lady returned from the ball at three in the morning and would not get up before noon. Gobsek says that he will come at noon and leaves, with pleasure soiling the carpets on the stairs with his dirty soles: let the extravagant rich feel on their shoulders "the clawed paw of Inevitability"!

Mademoiselle Fanny Malvaux lived in a poor and dark well-yard. She left the money on the bill for Gobsek with the doorkeeper. But it is interesting to look at the debtor herself. Wow, pretty little slut!

The usurer returns to the countess. She receives him in the boudoir, where an atmosphere of bliss and wealth reigns: "everything was beauty, devoid of harmony, luxury and disorder." Gobsek admires the beauty and vitality of the countess, but at the same time is filled with a vengeful feeling: "Pay for this luxury, pay for your happiness ..." He gives the woman a deadline - until tomorrow noon. Suddenly, the Count himself appears. Gobsek understands that the woman is completely in his hands. After all, the husband did not know anything about his wife's loans! Yes, and she spent the money on a whim young lover. Terrified to shiver, the Countess gives Gobsek a diamond in exchange for a bill.

In the yard, the usurer sees how the grooms of the count's couple clean the horses, wash the carriages. Gobseck thinks with contempt: "In order not to stain patent leather boots, these gentlemen are ready to plunge headlong into the mud!"

On the way, the old man runs into a fair-haired handsome man - the lover of the countess. And only in his face and manners does the wise miser see through his entire biography: he will ruin both the countess and her family, and will go further, not burdened with conscience, in search of expensive pleasures. The pawnbroker again goes to Fanny. Her little apartment is simply but extremely clean. The girl works as a seamstress, works without straightening her back. Fanny herself is a sweet young girl, dressed modestly, but with the grace of a Parisian. “She smelled of something good, truly virtuous ...”

This is how Gobsek amuses himself: observing the innermost curves of the human heart. People for the usurer are actors who give a performance for him alone.

For the lawyer Derville, the figure of the old man grows to a fantastic personification of the power of gold. Let us not forget that at the time described Derville was young. The story of Fanny Malvo fascinated him. He found a girl, surrounded her with attention and eventually married her.

Young Derville buys a law office, for which he takes one hundred and fifty thousand francs from Gobsek at fifteen percent - in installments for ten years. The old rogue promises his young acquaintance to supply clients: this way he will earn more and, therefore, will be able to pay off.

The solicitor managed to win the case for the return of the real estate of the Viscountess de Granlier - this ensured his friendship with a noble lady, brought success, new clientele. Fanny's uncle, a wealthy farmer, left her an inheritance, which helped married couple pay off debts.

Once Derville got to a bachelor's party, where fate brought him to the Marquis de Tray: an empty, brilliant man of the world. At the feast, everyone was pretty tipsy, and de Tray "completely bewitched" Derville, tearing out of him a promise to take the Marquis to Gobsek the next morning. For some "decent woman" it was urgently necessary to get a large amount money. This case involved card debts, bills to the coachman, some kind of embezzlement and a jealous husband.

The marquis himself was in a quarrel with Gobseck, and, as agreed, he came to Derville in the morning, so that the lawyer could reconcile the old usurer and young rake. The Marquis boasts of his acquaintances with influential, wealthy and noble people, promises to return the debt, but the old man is cold: he knows how much debt this dandy has. De Tray promises to bring a worthy pledge.

The marquis brings to Gobsek one of the daughters of the old man Goriot - the same countess who once visited Gobsek in order to collect a debt. The Countess feels miserable and humiliated. This is so clearly reflected in her behavior that Derville feels sorry for her.

In exchange for the required amount, Gobsek is offered diamond jewelry - with the right to redeem them. The jewels enchant the old curmudgeon. He examines them with a magnifying glass, admiring aloud. Gobsek does not miss his advantage: he refuses to take diamonds with the right to ransom, gives them much less than their real value, and a little less than half - bills of the Marquis de Tray. These bad bills (it is unlikely that the Marquis will ever pay them!) were bought by Gobseck for nothing. Derville whispers to the countess not to make deals, but to "fall at the feet of her husband." But the desperate woman gives her jewels to the pawnbroker.

After her departure, an indignant count rushes in to Gobsek, he demands the return of the diamonds, threatening to go to court - after all, according to the laws of that time, a woman depends on her husband in everything. Gobsek replies to the count that in court only a high-profile surname will be discredited, but nothing can be proved. In the end, the count leaves Gobsek a receipt, where he undertakes to pay eighty-five thousand francs for the diamonds (five thousand more than the usurer gave to the countess).

The usurer allows himself to give advice to the count: the countess is so seductive and so extravagant that she quickly squanders her entire fortune. If the count is worried about the fate of his children, then it is better for him to transfer his fortune to the name of some reliable friend. Otherwise, all the money will be squandered by mother and her hearty friends. Count fictitiously, having enlisted the support of Derville, transfers his property to Gobsek.

At this point in Derville's story, Camille is sent to bed by her mother. Derville can now not hide the name of the Comte de Resto in his story! This is the same father young man, to which Camilla is so partial.

From the experience, the count fell ill. The hypocritical countess, under the guise of worrying about the patient, arranges for him to be followed and almost round-the-clock duty: she needs to find out where the count hides his money. She was afraid that de Resto would leave nothing to his younger children - after all, he is not biologically their father. The countess finally lost her mind: she realized how cold and selfish de Tray was. She tries to atone for her guilt before the younger children, takes care to give them a brilliant education. The confused woman sees the enemy in the lawyer. She does not allow him to go to the dying count. How can Derville take Gobseck's receipt certifying that the transfer of property is false? The Count guesses to pass younger son Ernest a sealed envelope with a request to drop the papers in the mailbox. Mother lies in wait for Ernest and begins to extort a secret from him. The count staggers out of the bedroom and accuses the countess: she is a sinful woman, a bad daughter, a bad wife! She will be a bad mother too! The unfortunate de Resto dies, and the countess burns the papers in the fireplace. This is a terrible mistake! Now Gobsek has the right to all the property of the count. The usurer rents out his mansion, and he settles in his estates, where he feels like a master: he repairs roads, mills, and plants trees.

He becomes a member of the commission for the liquidation of the property of the French of the former colony - Haiti. Gifts are brought to him - he does not disdain either a basket of goose pate or silver spoons. His Parisian apartment becomes a warehouse. At the end of his life, the old man falls into insanity: the food is spoiled, everything is covered with mold, part of the silver is half-melted in the fireplace ... He bequeathed all his great wealth to the great-granddaughter of the Beautiful Dutchwoman - the girl “went from hand to hand” from poverty and is known in the quarters of Paris under the nickname “Spark "...

However, the property of the young Count de Resto Derville managed to defend. So Ernest is a worthy match for Camille.

The viscountess condescendingly promises to "think"...

Translation:

The young Comte de Resto adores his mother, who has a world reputation as a spendthrift. This is what prevents parents of respectable families from perceiving the count as a good match for their daughters. Derville, an intelligent and decent person, one of the best lawyers in Paris, wants to dispel the doubts in the context of Grandlier about reliability with his story. financial situation de resto.

Derville was silent for a few minutes, and then began his story:

This story is connected with a romantic adventure, the only one in my life. Well, you laugh, it seems funny to you that a lawyer can have some kind of novels. But I was also once twenty-five years old, and at that time I had already seen a lot in my life. I'll tell you first about one person who participated in this story, whom you could not know. It's about about the moneylender. I don’t know if you can imagine the face of this person from my words, I, with the permission of the Academy, would call it “lunar face”, because its yellowish pallor resembled the color of silver, from which the gilding had peeled off. My pawnbroker's hair was smooth, neatly combed, with gray ashen gray. His features, imperturbable as Talleyrand's, seemed cast in bronze. The eyes, yellow like martens, were almost without eyelashes and were afraid of the light; but the visor of the old cap reliably protected them from him. The sharp nose, pockmarked at the tip, looked like a sverdlik, and the lips were thin, like those of alchemists or old dwarfs depicted in the paintings of Rembrandt and Metsu. He always spoke in a low, soft voice and never got angry. It was impossible to guess his age: it was impossible not to know, then he grew old prematurely, managed to preserve his youth to an inclined age. Everything in his room, from the green cloth on the desk to the rug by the bed, was somehow the same, neat and shabby, as if in cold house an old girl who from morning till night does nothing but rub furniture. In winter, the firebrands in his fireplace always only smoldered, buried under a pile of ashes. From the moment he woke up to the evening coughing fits, his actions were measured, like the movements of a pendulum. It was a man-machine, which was wound up every morning. If you touch a woodlice that is crawling on paper, it will instantly freeze; in the same way, this man would suddenly fall silent during a conversation and wait for a carriage to pass down the street, because he did not want to strain his voice. Following the example of Fontenelle, he saved energy and suppressed all human feelings in himself. And his life flowed as seamlessly as sand pours in an old hourglass. Sometimes his victims were indignant, screaming in despair - and then suddenly dead silence fell, as if in a kitchen when duck was being slaughtered there. By evening, the man-promissory note turned into ordinary person, and the ingot of metal in his chest became a human heart. When he was pleased with how the day had passed, he rubbed his hands, and from the deep wrinkles that lined his face a smoke of gaiety seemed to smoke; indeed, it is difficult to describe otherwise the mute play of his facial muscles - it probably expressed the same feelings as the silent laughter of Leatherstocking. Even in moments of his triumph, he spoke in monosyllables and with all his appearance expressed disagreement. Such a neighbor was sent to me by fate when I lived on the Rue Gre, and then I was only a junior employee of a lawyer's office and a third-year law student. That gloomy, sloping house has no courtyard, all the windows face the street, and the layout of the rooms resembles the layout of the monastery cells: they are all the same size, each has one door that opens into a long corridor, dimly lit by small windows. Once this house really belonged to the monastery buildings. In such a gloomy house, the cheerfulness of some secular rake, the son of an aristocratic family, faded away even before he came to my neighbor. The house and its inhabitant approached each other - that's how a rock and an oyster stuck to it. the only person with whom the old one, as they say, kept in touch, was me; he came to me to ask for a fire, took a book or a newspaper to read, and in the evening he allowed me to go to his cell, and we talked when he was in good mood. These manifestations of trust were the result of four years of neighborhood and my prudent behavior, due to lack of money, my lifestyle was very similar to that of this old man. Or did he have relatives, friends? Was he rich and poor? Nobody could answer these questions. I never saw money in his hands. His wealth, apparently, was stored somewhere in the vaults of the bank. He himself collected debts on bills, running all over Paris on his lean, deer-like legs. Through his prudence, he once even suffered. By chance he had gold on him and somehow a double napoleon slipped out of his vest pocket. The lodger, who was descending the old steps, picked up the coin and handed it to him.

"It's not mine!" he exclaimed, waving his hands. "Gold? I have it? And if I were rich, would I live the way I live?"

In the morning he brewed his own coffee on an iron stove that stood in a smoky corner of the fireplace; lunch was brought to him from eateries. The old gatekeeper came at the appointed time to clean his room. By a strange whim of fate, which Stern would call above a sentence, the old one was called Gobsek. Later, when I went into his affairs, I learned that at the time we met, he was almost seventy-six years old. He was born somewhere in the year 1740, in the suburbs of Antwerp; his mother was Jewish, and his father was a Dutchman named Jean Esther van Gobsek. You probably remember how all of Paris was talking about the murder of a woman called the Beautiful Dutch? When I casually mentioned this in a conversation with my then neighbor, he said to me, without showing the slightest interest or surprise: "This is my great-aunt."

Only these words were torn from him by the death of his only heiress, the grandchildren of his sister. At the trial, I learned that the name of the Beautiful Dutchwoman was Sarah van Gobsek. I asked the old man what strange circumstances could explain the fact that the grandson's sister bore his last name.

"In our family, women never married," he replied with a chuckle.

This strange man never once wished to see at least one person from the four female generations that made up his relatives. He hated his heirs, and the idea that someone could take his wealth, even after his death, was unbearable for him. Already at the age of ten, his mother attached him as a cabin boy on a ship, and he sailed to the Dutch possessions in the East Indies, where he wandered for twenty years. He tried every means to obtain wealth, and even tried to find famous treasure- gold that savages buried somewhere near Buenos Aires. He took part in all the events of the war for the independence of the United States of America. However, he remembered his life in the East Indies or in America only in conversations with me, and then very rarely, and each time in such cases, he seemed to reproach himself for his intemperance. If humanity, communication with neighbors is considered a religion, then Gobsek was a convinced atheist in this regard.

Translation:

Once Derville started a conversation with Gobsek, in which the usurer deduced his life credo.

“And to whom can life bring so much joy as to me?” he said, and his eyes flashed. believe, and I believe nothing Well, enjoy the illusions if you can, and I will now sum it up for you human life. Or you travel the world, never divorce your wife, over the years of life for you inevitably turns into a habit of certain conditions of existence. And then happiness is found by the one who knows how to apply his abilities under any circumstances, except for these two rules, everything else is a delusion. My views changed, like all people, I had to change them depending on geographical latitude. In Asia, they are punished for what they admire in Europe. What is considered a vice in Paris becomes a necessity beyond the Azores. There is nothing permanent in the world. There are only conventions - their own for each climate. For someone who had to adapt to various social standards, all your beliefs and moral rules are empty words. Only one sense that nature has endowed us with is unbreakable - the instinct of self-preservation. In societies European civilization this instinct is called self-interest. If you live to my age, you will understand: of all earthly goods, only ... gold should be sought. All the forces of mankind are concentrated in gold. I traveled a lot, I saw that everywhere there are plains and mountains. The plains snuggle, the mountains tire - it doesn't matter where exactly to live. Well, as far as customs are concerned, people are the same everywhere: everywhere there is a struggle between the poor and the rich, everywhere it is inevitable. Therefore, it is better to exploit yourself than to allow yourself to be exploited. Everywhere muscular people work, and stunted people suffer. Yes, and consolations are the same everywhere, and everywhere they drain strength. The best of all pleasures is vanity. Vanity is our "I". And it can only be satisfied with gold. A stream of gold! To fulfill our whims, we need time, money and effort. So, in gold all this is in embryo, and it gives everything in life. Only the mad or sick can find happiness in spending their evenings playing cards, hoping to win a few sous. Only fools can waste time on empty thoughts about what kind of lady lay down on the sofa or in a pleasant company and what is more in her - blood or lymph, temperament or innocence. Only simpletons can believe that they are benefiting their neighbor by creating policy principles to manage events that you can never foresee. Only fools like to talk about actors and repeat their witticisms, walk daily, circling like caged animals, perhaps over a slightly wider area; to dress for the sake of others, to feast for the sake of others, to show off a horse or carriage that one was lucky enough to buy three days earlier than a neighbor. This is the life of your Parisians, it all fits into a few phrases, doesn't it? Now let's look at life from a height that they can never climb. happiness or in strong emotions, which undermine our lives, or in measured activities that turn it into something like a finely tuned English mechanism. Above this happiness is the so-called noble curiosity, the desire to uncover the secrets of nature and learn how to influence its phenomena. Here you have in a nutshell art and science, passion and tranquility. Do you agree? So, all human passions, kindled by conflicts of interests in your current society, pass before me, and I arrange a review for them, while I myself live in peace. That is, your scientific curiosity, a kind of struggle in which a person always fails, I replace with the study of all the secret springs that move humanity. One word, I own the world without tiring myself, and the world has no power over me.

So I will tell you about two events that happened this morning, ”he continued after a short silence,“ and you will understand what my joy is.

He got up, closed the door with a bolt, with a jerky movement - even the rings creaked - drew the curtain with the ancient pattern on it and again sat down in an armchair.

“This morning,” he said, “I had only two bills of exchange to pay, I received them yesterday on my transactions. And this is a net profit for me. I don't hire. And isn't it funny that for just six francs I'm running all over Paris on foot? And it's me - a man who is subject to no one, a man who pays only seven francs of tax! The first bill, worth a thousand francs, was discounted I have one lad, a handsome man and a dandy: he has vests with sequins, he has a lorgnette, and a tilbury, and an English horse, and all that sort of thing.And the promissory note was issued by one of the most beautiful Parisians, the wife of a wealthy landowner, and even a count. Why did this countess sign promissory note, legally invalid, but practically quite reliable? Because these pathetic ladies are so afraid of the protest scandal that they are ready to pay in their own person if they cannot pay with money. I wanted to reveal the secret price of this bill. What lies behind this: stupidity, imprudence, love or compassion? A second promissory note for the same amount, signed by Fanny Malva, was discounted from me by a linen merchant whose business seems to be on the verge of collapse. Because not a single person with even a small bank loan will ever come to my shop: her first step from the door to my desk means despair, inevitable bankruptcy and futile attempts to get a loan somewhere. Therefore, I have to deal only with hunted deer, which is being chased by a pack of creditors. The Countess lives on the Rue Geldersky, and Fanny Malvy lives on the Rue Montmartre. How many assumptions did I make as I left the house this morning! If these women do not have anything to pay, they will, of course, receive me more affectionately than their own father. And how the countess grimaces, which to break a comedy through this thousand francs! He will look at me affectionately like that, speak in a gentle voice, in which the Turkish with the handsome man, in whose name the bill was issued, flatter me with affectionate words, maybe even pray, and I ... "

Then the old man looked at me - there was a cold equanimity in his eyes.

"But I'm relentless!" he said. "I come like a ghost of revenge, like a reproach of conscience. Well, okay.

"The Countess is still in bed," the maid tells me.

"And when can we see her?"

"Not before noon."

"She is ill?"

"No, sir. But she returned from the ball at three in the morning."

"My name is Gobsek, tell her that Gobsek came. I'll come back at noon."

And I left, leaving dirty footprints on the carpet on the stairs. I love to soil the carpets in the houses of the rich with the soles of my boots - not out of petty vanity, but to let them feel the clawed paw of Inevitability. I come to the rue Montmartre, I find a nondescript house, I push through the old gate in the gate and I see a gloomy courtyard where the sun never looks. It is dark in the closet of the gate, the window looks like the greasy sleeve of a worn coat - greasy, dirty, cracked.

"Is Panna Fanny Mallow at home?"

"She went out. But if you brought a bill to pay, then she left money for you."

"I'll be back," I reply.

When I learned that the money had been left by the gatekeeper, I wanted to look at the debtor; For some reason I imagined her to be a pretty girl. I spent the morning on the boulevard, looking at the engravings displayed in shop windows. And exactly at noon I was already in the drawing room, in front of the countess's bedroom.

"Mistress just called me," said the maid. "I don't think she will see you."

"I'll wait," I replied, and sat down in an armchair. The blinds open, the maid comes running in. "You're invited, sir."

From the sweet voice of the maid, I understood that there was nothing to pay the mistress. But what a beauty I saw there! In haste, she only threw a cashmere shawl over her bare shoulders and wrapped herself in it so skillfully that under the shawl the forms of her beautiful body were easily guessed. She was wearing a peignoir trimmed with snow-white ruffles - which means that at least two thousand francs a year were spent here only on a laundress, because not everyone will take up washing such thin linen. The countess's head was casually tied, like a Creole, with a bright silk scarf, from under which lush black curls were knocked out. The open zіbgana bed testified to a disturbing dream. An artist would pay dearly to spend a few minutes in such a bedroom. From the folds of the veil, a fan of bliss, a crumpled pillow on a blue downy feather bed, clearly stood out against the azure background with snow-white lace, it seemed that it still kept the imprint of perfect forms that aroused the imagination. On the bearskin, spread out under the lions carved on the mahogany bed, were white satin slippers that the woman carelessly threw off there when she returned tired from the ball. A wrinkled dress hung from the back of a chair, its sleeves touching the floor. Stockings that would blow away the most easy breathing breeze wrapped around the legs of the chair. White garters seemed to float above the sofa. On the shelf of the fireplace, a precious fan shimmered with all colors. The chest of drawers remained open. Flowers, diamonds, gloves, a bouquet, a belt were scattered all over the room. I inhaled the subtle scents of perfume. Everywhere there was luxury and disorder, beauty devoid of harmony. And already poverty, partaking in all this luxury, let down and threatened this lady or her lover, showing her sharp teeth. The countess's tired face approached her bedroom, covered with the remnants of yesterday's celebration. Looking at the clothes and jewelry scattered everywhere, I felt pity; and it was yesterday that they made up her dress, and someone admired them. These signs of love, poisoned by repentance, signs of luxury, fuss and frivolity of life testified to Tantalum's efforts to capture fleeting pleasures. The red spots on the face of the young woman testified to the tenderness of her skin; but her features seemed to be frozen, the dark spots under her eyes more pronounced than usual. And yet, natural energy simmered in her, and all these traces of bad life did not spoil her beauty. Her eyes sparkled. She looked like one of Leonardo da Vinci's Irodiads (after all, I once resold paintings), she exuded life and strength. There was nothing pathetic in the lines of her condition, or in the features of her face, she inspired love, and she herself seemed stronger than love. She liked me. My heart hasn't beat like this in a long time. So, I already got paid! Wouldn't I give a thousand francs instead to experience sensations that would remind me of the days of my youth?

Translation:

Afraid of revealing the extravagance to her husband, the Countess gives Gobsek the diamond.

"Take it and get out of here," she said.

In exchange for the diamond, I gave her the promissory note and, bowing, left. I valued the diamond at least one thousand two hundred francs. In the yard I saw a whole crowd of servants - some were cleaning their livery, the second - waxing their boots, the third - washing luxurious carriages. “That's what brings these people to me,” I thought. “That's what makes them steal millions in a decent way, betray their homeland. dirt". At that moment, the gate opened and let through the carriage of a young man who discounted a bill from me.

And on his face I read the whole future of the Countess. This fair-haired handsome man, this cold, insensitive gambler, will himself go bankrupt and ruin the countess, ruin her husband, ruin the children, screw up their inheritance, and in many other salons cause a rout more terrible than an artillery battery in a hostile regiment.

Then I went to the rue Montmartre, to Fanny Malvy's. I climbed a narrow, steep staircase to the sixth floor, and they let me into a two-room apartment, where everything was sparkling clean, like a new coin. I did not notice a single speck of dust on the furniture in the first room, where I was received by Mademoiselle Fanny, a young girl dressed simply, but with the sophistication of a Parisian: she had a graceful head, a fresh face, a friendly look; beautifully combed brown hair, going down in two circles and covering the temple; rendered some refined expression of her blue eyes, clear as crystal. Daylight filtered through the window curtains, illuminating her modest appearance with a soft glow. There were piles of cut linen everywhere, and I realized what she did for a living - Fanny was a seamstress. She stood before me like a spirit of loneliness. I gave her the bill and said that I had not found her at home in the morning.

"But I left the money in the gate," she said. I pretended not to hear. "You must be leaving the house early!" "In general, I rarely go out. And when you work all night, sometimes you want to swim in the morning."

I looked at it and at a glance I guessed it. This girl of need was forced to work without straightening her back. Apparently, she came from an honest peasant family, because she still had noticeable small freckles, characteristic of country girls. She exuded deep decency, real virtue. I had the feeling that I was in an atmosphere of sincerity, spiritual purity, and it even became easy for me to breathe. Poor, innocent girl! She probably believed in God too: over her simple wooden couch hung a crucifix adorned with two branches of boxwood. I almost got moved. I even felt like lending her money at only twelve percent to help her buy some profitable business. "Uh, no," I said to myself, "she's probably got a cousin who'll make her sign the bills and take the bottle." So I left, cursing myself for my misplaced generosity, because more than once I had the opportunity to be convinced that although the good deed of time does not harm the benefactor himself, it always ruins the one to whom the service is done. When you came in, I was just thinking of Fanny Malva - that's who I would have left good wife and mother. I compared her life, respectable and lonely, with the life of the countess, who, having begun to sign bills, will inevitably slide to the very bottom of shame.

For a moment he was silent and thoughtful, while I looked at him.

“So tell me,” he suddenly spoke, “is my entertainment bad! Isn’t it interesting to look into the most hidden corners of the human heart! Isn’t it interesting to unravel someone else’s life and see it from the inside, without any decorations? Here are nasty ulcers, and inconsolable grief, and love passions, and poverty, which push into the waters of the Seine, and the consolation of a guy, simply lead to the scaffold, and the laughter of despair, and magnificent celebrations.Today you see a tragedy: the honest father of the family laid hands on himself because he could not feed the children.Tomorrow you are watching a comedy: a young rake plays a scene in front of you modern version. You have, of course, read about the famous eloquence of the newly-minted preachers of the end of the last century. I sometimes lost time - I went to listen to them, and in some ways they influenced my views, but I never, as someone said, influenced my behavior. So, all these famous talkers of yours, all sorts of Mirabeau, Vergniaud and others, are miserable stutterers, if you compare them with my everyday speakers. Some girl in love, an old merchant who is on the verge of collapse, a mother who tries to hide filial guilt, an artist without a piece of bread, a nobleman who has fallen out of favor and is about to lose everything that he managed to achieve for lack of money. long years efforts - all these people amaze me with the power of their word. Wonderful actors and they play for me alone! And they never fail to deceive me. I have a look like the Lord God, I look into the soul. Nothing escapes my keen eye. And how can they refuse something to the one in whose hands is a bag of gold? I am rich enough to buy a human conscience to govern ministers through those who have influence over them, from secretaries to mistresses. Isn't that power, isn't it power? I could, if I wanted to, own the most beautiful women and buy anyone's caresses. Isn't that a consolation! And power and consolation - are not the foundations of our new social order? There are a dozen like me in Paris. We are the masters of your destinies, silent, unknown to anyone. What is life? A machine driven by money. Know that the means always merge with the consequences, it is impossible to separate the soul from the feelings, the spirit from the matter. Gold is the soul of your current society. Here, - he continued, showing me his cold room with bare walls, - the most passionate lover who will boil anywhere from an innocent hint and challenge to a duel for one word, here he begs me like God, pressing his hands to his chest. Shedding tears of rage or despair, both the most arrogant merchant and the most arrogant military man beg me; Here both the famous artist and the writer are humiliated, whose name will live in the memory of many generations. And here, - he added, tapping his forehead, - I have a scale on which the inheritances and selfish interests of all Paris are weighed. Well, now you understand,” he said, turning his pale face, as if poured out of silver, towards me, “what passions and pleasures are hidden behind this frozen mask, which so often surprised you with its real estate?”

I came back completely stunned. This old man grew up in my eyes, turned into a fantastic idol, the personification of the power of gold. Both life and people filled me with horror at that moment. "Does it all come down to money?" I asked myself. I remember I couldn't sleep for a long time: Heaps of gold seemed to me. I was also embarrassed by the image of the beautiful countess. To my shame, I confess that she completely obscured the image of a simple and pure being, doomed to the unknown and hard work. But the next morning, in the foggy haze of awakening, tender Fanny appeared before me in all her beauty, and I already thought only of her.

Translation:

From Derville's story, the reader learns about the life story of the lawyer himself: he received a license in law and joined the bar. The old miser trusts Derville's professional skills and often consults with him. After working in the attorney's office for 3 years, Derville gets a promotion, moves to another apartment and believes that he will never meet Gobsek again. And a week later Gobsek visited Derville on business. Two years later, Derville bought the office. Money at 15% per annum, as from a good friend, gave him Gobsek. Discount Gobsek for Derville - a kind of evidence of the special attitude of the usurer to the lawyer.

Fanny Malva, whom Derville sincerely fell in love with, became his wife. Uncle Fanny left them a legacy of 70,000 francs, which helped Derville pay off Gobsek in full.

At one of the bachelor feasts, the dandy and burner Maxime de Tray persuades Derville to introduce him to Gobsek, who can lend a large amount in order to save one of the daughters of Derville's client from collapse.

Maxime de Tray assured Derville that the woman was rich and that in a few years of an economical life she would be able to repay the debt to Gobsek.

<...>When we arrived at Rue Grey, socialite began to look around with such intense anxiety that I was extremely surprised. His face alternately turned pale, then blackened, then even turned yellow, and when he saw the door of Gobseck's house, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. At the moment when we jumped out of the cabriolet, a cab turned into the Rue Gre. With his hawk-eye, the society dandy immediately noticed a female figure in the depths of that carriage, and an expression of almost wild joy flickered across his face. He called a street boy and asked him to hold the horse. We went up to the old pawnbroker.

“Mr. Gobseck,” I said, “I recommend you one of my best friends. (“Beware of him like hell,” I whispered in the old man’s ear. “I hope that at my request you will return your favor to him (for high interest , of course) and get him out of trouble (if it suits you)".

Monsieur de Tray bowed to the usurer, sat down and, preparing to listen to him, removed the obsequious and graceful posture of a courtier, which would have charmed anyone; but my Gobsek still sat in his armchair near the fireplace, motionless, imperturbable, and Like a statue of Voltaire in the peristyle of the theater of the French Comedy, illuminated by evening lights. As a sign of greeting, he only slightly raised his worn cap above his head, revealing a strip of yellow, like old marble, a skull that completed his resemblance to a statue.

Translation:

The young man promised a sufficient bail amount of the loan to Gobsek and left.

“O my son!” exclaimed Gobsek, standing up and seizing my hands. “If the deposit in it is really valuable, you saved my life! I almost died.

There was something eerie about the old man's joy. It was the first time he had so much fun in my presence, and although that moment of triumph was very short, it will never be erased from my memory.

“Do me a favor and stay here,” he said. “Although I have pistols with me, and I’m sure I won’t miss, because I had to hunt a tiger and fight to the death in a boarding fight, I still fear this elegant bastard ".

He sat down in a chair at the table. His face became pale and calm again.

“So, so,” he said, turning to me. “Now you will undoubtedly see the beauty I once told you about.

Indeed, the young dandy entered, leading by the arm a lady, whom I immediately recognized as one of the daughters of old Goriot, and from the story of Gobsek, the very countess, in whose bedroom he had once visited. The countess did not notice me at first, because I was standing in the niche of the window and turned away to the glass. Once in the gloomy and damp room of the usurer, she dropped a distrustful look at Maxim. She was so beautiful that I took pity on her despite her sins. Probably, cruel torment tormented her heart, noble and proud features zdokomlyuvav badly hidden pain. The young dandy became her evil genius. I marveled at the shrewdness of Gobseck, who had foretold the future of these two men four years before, when their first bill fell into his hands. “Perhaps this demon with an angelic face,” I thought, “dominates her, taking advantage of all her weaknesses: pride, jealousy, desire for comfort, for worldly fuss.”

"Sir, can you get the full price for these diamonds, but leaving behind the right to buy them back later?" asked the Countess in a trembling voice, handing Gobsek's box.

"It is possible, gentle mistress," I intervened in the conversation, proceeding from my hiding place.

She turned in my direction, immediately recognized me, shuddered and cast a glance at me, which in all languages ​​​​means: "Do not show me off."

"In legal language, such a transaction is called a" sale with the right of subsequent redemption ", and it consists in the transfer of movable or immovable property to certain time after which you can return your property by paying the buyer the agreed amount.

The Countess breathed a sigh of relief. Count Maxim frowned, afraid that the moneylender would give less, because the value of diamonds is unstable. Gobsek seized his magnifying glass and silently examined what was in the box. Even if I live a hundred years, I will not forget that picture. His pale face flushed, his eyes, in which the glitter of diamonds was mirrored, seemed to flash with otherworldly fire. He got up, went to the window, put the diamonds in his toothless mouth, as if he wanted to devour them. Bringing bracelets to his eyes, now earrings with pendants, now beads, now tiaras, he babbled something unintelligible and looked at them in the light to determine the shade, the purity of the water and the facets of the diamond. He took out the jewels from the box, put them there, pulled them out again and rotated them in front of his eyes so that they sparkled with all their lights, at that moment he looked more like a child than an old man, and in fact, both a child and a grandfather at the same time.

"Magnificent diamonds! Before the revolution, these cost three hundred thousand. Which they clean water! Undoubtedly, from India - from Golconda or Vishapur. And do you know their price? No, no, in all Paris only Gobseck can appreciate them. According to the Empire, to make these custom-made jewelry would require at least two hundred thousand. - He angrily waved his hand and continued: - A. Now diamonds are falling in price every day. After the conclusion of peace, Brazil flooded the market with them, although they are not as transparent as the Indian ones. And women now wear diamonds only at court balls. Are you at court, ma'am? - Angrily throwing these words, he looked at the pebbles with inexpressible joy at each other. - This one, without any vice of distortion of the peaceful, - he muttered. - And that's the point. And here is the crack. This one is flawless."

His pale face was all illuminated by iridescent glints precious stones, and I remembered the old green mirrors in provincial hotels, the dull glass of which does not reflect anything and what Zukhvaltsev dares to look into them shows the face of a man who is dying of apoplexy.

"Well, how?" asked the Count, clapping Gobseck on the shoulder.

The old kid shuddered, He tore himself away from his favorite toys, put them on the desk, sat down in an armchair and again turned into a pawnbroker - hard, imperturbable and cold, like a marble pillar. "How much do you need?" "One hundred thousand francs. For three years," the count replied. "You can," said Gobsek, opening a mahogany box and taking out his most precious jewel, an impeccably accurate scale.

He weighed the diamonds, determining by eye (God knows how!) the weight of the setting. During this operation, the face of the usurer expressed either joy or equanimity. I noticed that the Countess seemed to be speechless, lost in thought. Maybe she finally realized what abyss she had fallen into? Maybe there is still a grain of conscience in the soul of this woman? And you just need to make one effort, stretch out a compassionate hand to save her? So I tried to give her my hand: "Are these diamonds yours, mistress?" I asked for directions.

"Yes, sir," she replied, throwing a proud glance at me.

"Draw up an agreement for the sale with the right to purchase, baziko," said Gobsek, and, rising from the table, showed me to his chair.

"You, mistress, certainly have a husband?" I asked a second question.

The Countess tilted her head slightly. "I refuse to make an agreement!" I exclaimed. "Why?" asked Gobsek. “Why, why?” I was indignant, and, leading the old man to the niche of the window, I said to him in an undertone: Married woman everything depends on the husband, the deal is declared invalid, and you will not be able to refer to your ignorance due to the presence of the text of the agreement. Therefore, you will have to return to the owner the diamonds pledged to you, because the agreement will specify their weight, value and facet.

Gobsek interrupted me with a nod of his head and turned to the two criminals.

"He's right," he said. "The conditions change. I give eighty thousand in cash, and you leave me the diamonds," he added in a hollow and thin voice. "In transactions for movable property, property is better than any papers."

"But..." was de Tray's reply.

"Either agree or take it back," said Gobsek, returning the box to the Countess. "I'm taking the risk anyway."

"You'd better throw yourself at your husband's feet," I whispered in the countess's ear.

The usurer, no doubt, understood from my lips what I said, and cast a cold look at me.

The young dandy turned as pale as death. The Countess obviously hesitated. The Count approached her and, although he spoke in a whisper, I heard the words: "Farewell, dear Anastasi, be happy! And I ... tomorrow I will be free from all worries."

"I accept your terms, sir!" exclaimed the young woman, turning to Gobsek.

"That's all right," the old man replied. "It's not easy to persuade you, pretty one." I will give you a bill of payment for thirty thousand bills, the reliability of which you will not deny. It is the same if I set you this amount in gold. Comte de Tray just told me: "My bills will be paid," added Gobsek, presenting to the countess bills signed by the Comte de Tray, which one of Gobsek's friends protested the day before and which, apparently, got him for a pittance.

The young dandy growled - and in that garrison the words were distinctly heard: "Old scoundrel!"

Papa Gobsek didn't raise an eyebrow. He got out of cardboard box two pistols and coldly said:

"My first shot - by right of the offended side."

"Maxim, you must apologize to Mr. Gobsek!" cried the Countess softly, trembling all over.

"I didn't mean to offend you," the count murmured.

"I know that," said Gobsek calmly. "It was your only intention not to pay the bills."

The Countess got up, bowed, and ran out, perhaps seized with terror. M. de Tray had to go out to fetch her, but in parting he said:

"If you say a word about it, gentlemen, your blood or mine will be shed."

“Amen!” Gobsek answered him, hiding his pistols. “To shed your blood, lad, you must have it, and you have dirt in your veins instead of blood.”

When the door slammed shut and the two carriages drove off, Gobsek sprang to his feet and began to dance, saying:

"And the diamonds are mine! The diamonds are now mine! Magnificent diamonds! Flawless diamonds! And how cheaply they got them! Ha-ha! Aha, Verbrust and Gigonnet! You wanted to deceive old Gobsek? Well, so who deceived whom? Well, whose top? How they will open their mouths in surprise when, between two games of dominoes, I tell them about today's deal!

This ferocious joy, this vicious triumph of the savage, who took possession of the shining pebbles, made me tremble. I was dumbfounded, numb.

"Ah, you're still here, my boy," he said. "We'll dine together today. We'll dine at your place - after all, I don't run the household, and all these restaurateurs with their broths and sauces, with their wines will poison the devil himself." When he finally noticed the expression on my face, he again became cold and imperturbable.

"You don't understand this," he said, sitting down by the fireplace, where a tin pot of milk stood on a brazier. "Want to have breakfast with me?" he suggested. "There's probably enough for two here."

"Thank you," I replied, "I don't have a habit of eating breakfast until twelve."

Translation:

The Comte de Restaud, Anastasi's man, learns that the family diamonds are pawned in Gobsek, and comes to the usurer. Derville clarifies the situation: the count denigrates the family with his actions - a process about the illegality of the operation with diamonds. Comte de Resto is ready to buy back the diamonds, providing sufficient guarantees.

Gobsek advises to conclude a fictitious contract with him, according to which all the count's estates after his death will belong to Gobsek. This will save the family's wealth from Anastasi's waste.

Over time, the health of the Comte de Resto deteriorated, he lies near death. Anastasi suspects that the Count has taken steps to prevent her from inheriting the estates and all of de Resto's property. Anastasi turns to the "Civil Code", wants to use Ernest's son, and in vain. The drama unfolds.

One morning sometime in early December 1824, the earl opened his eyes and looked at his son Ernest. The guy was sitting at the foot of the bed and deep sadness looked at his father.

"Are you hurt, dad?" - he asked.

"No," replied the count with a bitter smile. "Everything is here and here, near the heart."

He pointed to his head, and then with such desperation in his eyes pressed his emaciated fingers to his fallen chest that Ernest began to cry.

“Why doesn’t Derville come?” the count asked his valet, whom he considered a devoted servant, but he was completely on the side of the countess. "In the last two weeks, I have sent you seven or eight times for my attorney, but he is still missing! Are you laughing at me? Immediately, this very minute, go to him and bring him here. If you do not comply my order, I will get out of bed, I will go myself ... "

“Did you hear what the count said, madam?” said the valet, going out into the drawing-room. “What shall we do now?”

“And you go as if you were going to the lawyer, and then you will return and tell the count that his attorney went forty leagues from here to important process. Tell them they're expecting him at the end of the week."

Meanwhile, the countess thought: "Sick people never believe that the end is near. He will wait for the lawyer to return." The day before, the doctor had told her that the count was unlikely to last a day. When, two hours later, the valet told the owner the disappointing news, the dying man became terribly excited.

"God! God!" he repeated several times. "All my hope is on you!"

He looked at his son for a long time and finally said to him in a weak voice:

"Ernesto, my boy, you are still very young, but you have kind heart and you understand how the holiday should keep the promise given to the dying father. Can you keep the secret, hide it in your soul so deep that even your mother does not know about it? In the whole house now I believe you. Will you betray my trust?" "No, dad."

"So, dear, now I will give you a sealed package addressed to Mr. Derville. Hide it so that no one guesses that you have it, quietly leave the house and drop the package into the mailbox on the street corner." "Okay, dad." "Can I rely on you?" "Yes, dad." "Come, kiss me. Now it will not be so hard for me to die, my dear boy. In six or seven years you will understand how important this secret is, and you will be rewarded for your quick wits and devotion to your father. And then you will understand how much I loved you Now come out for a minute and don't let anyone in before me."

Ernest went into the living room and saw what was worth having,

"Ernesto," she whispered, "come here." She sat down, hugged the boy tightly to her chest and kissed him. "Ernesto, did your father just talk to you?" "Told you mom." "What did he say to you?" "I can't tell you this, mom."

“Oh, what a nice boy you are!” exclaimed the countess, kissing her son passionately. “How glad I am that you know how to be restrained! Never forget the two rules that are most important for a person: do not lie and be true to your word.”

"Oh, how kind you are, mother! You never lied in your life! I'm sure."

"No, my dear Ernesto, sometimes I lied. I changed my word, but under circumstances that are stronger than all laws. Listen, Ernesto, you are already a big and smart boy and you, of course, notice that your father repels me, neglects my worries, and this is very unfair, because you know how much I love him. "I know, mom." “My poor son,” continued the countess, bursting into tears, “these evil people are to blame for everything, they slandered me before your father, they want to separate us, because they are envious and greedy. They want to take our wealth from us and appropriate it. If your father had been healthy, the quarrel between us would soon have passed, he would listen to me, he is kind, he loves me, he would understand his mistake, but his mind was clouded by illness, and his prejudice against me turned into obsessive thought, to madness. And your father suddenly began to give you an advantage over other children - isn't this proof that something is wrong with his head? You didn't notice that he loved Polina or Georges less than you before his illness? He now has bizarre whims. Love for you might have made him think of giving you some strange order. You do not want to ruin your brother and sister, my angel, you will not allow your mother, like a beggar, to beg for a piece of bread? Tell me what he instructed you..."

"A-ah ..." the count shouted, opening the doors.

He stood on the threshold almost naked, withered, as skinny as a skeleton. His stifled cry stunned the countess, and she was dumb with horror. This emaciated, pale man seemed to her to come from the grave.

"You have poisoned my whole life with grief, and now you won't let me die in peace, you want to destroy my son's soul, to make a man out of him!" - he is wry in a weak, hoarse voice.

The countess threw herself at the feet of the dying man, at that moment almost terrible - so the count's face was distorted by the last excitement in his life; she burst into tears.

"Have mercy! Have mercy!" she moaned.

"Did you make me happy?" he asked.

“Well, all right, don’t pity me, destroy me! Have pity on the children!” she pleaded. you. But children! At least let them be happy! O children, children!"

"I have only one child," replied the count, in desperation stretching out his scrawny hand to his son.

"Forgive me! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! .." - the countess shouted, hugging the man's feet, damp from the sweat of death.

She choked with sobs, and only unintelligible, incoherent words were snatched out of her churned throat.

“How dare you speak of repentance after what you just said to Ernest?” the dying man said and pushed the countess away with his foot, she fell to the floor. “You smell cold,” he added with some kind of terrible indifference in his voice. bad daughter, bad wife, you'll be a bad mother..."

The unfortunate woman fainted. The dying man got to bed, lay down and after a few hours lost consciousness. The priests came and gave him communion. At midnight he died. Morning conversation with his wife took him away last strength. I arrived at night with Gobsek. Thanks to the disorder that reigned in the house, we easily passed into a small living room adjacent to the bedroom of the deceased. There we saw three crying children; with them were two priests who remained to spend the night near the deceased. Ernest came up to me and said that my mother wanted to be alone in the count's room.

"Don't go in there!" he said, and I was delighted by his tone and the gesture that accompanied these words - She is praying!

Gobsek laughed his usual humming laughter. And I was too excited by the depth of feelings that reflected on young face Ernest, to share the old curmudgeon's irony. When the guy saw that we were still heading for the door, he ran up to them, pressed himself against the gap and shouted: "Mom, those dashing people have come to you!"

Gobsek rejected the little one like a feather and opened the door. What a sight before our eyes! The room was a real mess. The Countess stood in the middle of the clothes of the dead man scattered everywhere, papers, a crumpled ball of rags, and looked at us in bewilderment with shining eyes, disheveled, with an expression of despair on her face. It was terrible to see such chaos at the deathbed. Before the earl had time to breathe, his wife pulled all the drawers from the desk, ripped all the drawers, cut the briefcase - the carpet around her was littered with shreds of paper and fragments of wood, her impudent hands ransacked everything. Apparently, at first her search was in vain, and her agitated outside gave me the idea that in the end she was lucky to find mysterious documents. I glanced at the bed, and the instinct that I had developed through my practice told me what had happened here. The count's corpse lay prostrate, almost wedged between the bed and the wall, dismissively discarded like one of the envelopes lying on the floor, because now he too was just an empty, useless shell. The numb body with unnaturally outstretched arms and legs froze in an absurd and terrible pose. Obviously, the dying man hid the counter receipt under his pillow, as if he wanted to protect it in this way until his last minute. The Countess guessed the intention of her husband, which, in fact, was not difficult to understand from the last convulsive gesture of the hand, from the scraped dead fingers. The pillow lay on the floor, and the mark of a woman's slipper was still visible on it. And under the feet of the countess, I saw a torn package with the count's official seals. I quickly picked up the package and read the inscription, which said that the contents of the package were to be handed over to me. I looked at the countess with a keen, penetrating, stern look, the way an investigator looks at an interrogated criminal.

The fire in the fireplace ate a sheet of paper. When she heard that we had come, the countess threw them into the fire, because already in the first lines of the document she read the names of her younger children and thought that she was destroying the covenant that deprived them of their inheritance - when, at my insistence, the inheritance was secured for them. Anxious conscience, involuntary horror before the crime committed, overshadowed the mind of the countess. When she saw that she had been caught hot, she may have already imagined herself on the scaffold and felt herself being branded with a red-hot iron. Breathing heavily and staring wildly at us, she waited for our first words.

“You ruined your children,” I said, snatching a piece of paper from the fireplace that had not yet had time to burn. “These documents provided them with an inheritance.”

The Countess's mouth twisted, it seemed that she was about to be paralyzed.

"Hehe!" croaked Gobsek, and his cry reminded me of the gnashing of a brass horse as it is moved across a marble stand.

After a short silence, the old man spoke to me in a calm, blue tone.

"Do you want to inspire the countess with the idea that I am the illegal owner of the property that the count sold me? From this moment his house belongs to me."

I was hit on the head like a butt - I was so shocked. The Countess intercepted the surprised look I threw at the pawnbroker.

"Sir, sir..." she muttered, unable to find other words.

"Do you have fіdeїkomіs?" I asked Gobseck.

"Maybe".

"You want to take advantage of the Countess's crimes?"

"Why not?"

I moved to the exit, and the countess sank into a chair near the bed of the deceased and burst into bitter tears, Gobsek followed me. When we were in the street, I turned in the opposite direction, but he caught up with me, looked at me as soon as he could look, with a look penetrating the soul, and angrily shouted out in his thin voice:

"Are you going to judge me?"

From that day on, we rarely saw each other. Gobsek leased the count's house. He spent summers on his estates, lived there as a great master, built farms in a businesslike way, repaired mills and roads, and planted trees. Once I met him on one of the avenues of the Tuileries.

“The Countess lives a heroic life,” I told him. “She devoted herself entirely to her children, gave them a good education and upbringing, her eldest son is a charming young man ... "

"Maybe".

"Don't you feel obliged to help Ernest?"

“Help Ernest?” Hobssk exclaimed. “No, no! Misfortune is the best teacher. In trouble, he will learn the value of money, the value of people - both men and women. Let him swim on the waves of the Parisian sea! And when he becomes a good pilot, We'll make him a captain too."

I parted from Gobseck, not wanting to think about hidden meaning his words. Although my mother had inspired the young Comte de Restaud before me and he had no intention of turning to me for advice, last week I nevertheless went to Gobseck - to tell him that Ernest was in love with Camille, and to hurry him so that he quickly fulfilled his obligations, for the young earl was about to come of age. The old man was lying in bed, he was sick, and he was not destined to recover. He told me that he would give me an answer when he got back on his feet and could get down to business. Obviously, as long as there was even a spark of life in him, he did not want to give away the smallest share of his wealth - this is the only likely explanation.

And then last Monday Gobsek sent me an invalid, and he said, entering my office:

"Let's go soon, Mr. Derville, the owner is summing up the last accounts. He has turned yellow like a lemon, he wants to talk to you. Death has already grabbed him by the throat - he is wheezing, he is about to expire."

Entering the room of the dying man, I saw that he was kneeling near the fireplace, in which, however, no fire was burning, but only a huge pile of ashes. Gobsek slid off the bed and darted toward the fireplace, but he no longer had the strength to crawl back and did not have the voice to call for help.

"My old friend, - I said, helped him get up and reach the bed, - you are cold, why didn’t you order to light the fireplace?

"I'm not cold," he answered. "I don't need to heat the fireplace, I don't! I'm leaving here, my dear," he led on, and casting an already extinct, cold look at me. "Where I'm going, I don't know, but I won't be back "My carthology has begun. - He added, saying a medical term, this testified to the complete clarity of consciousness. - I fancied that gold coins were rolling on the floor, and I got up to collect them. Who will get my good? I do not want to give it to the state "I made a will. Find him, Grozia. There is a daughter left in the Beautiful Dutchwoman. One evening I saw her, I don't remember who, in the Rue Vivien. She has a nickname of the Snake - I think so. Pretty, like Cupid. Look for her, GROZIA: I appointed you as executor of my will. Take whatever you like here, eat. I have foie gras, sacks of coffee, sugar. Gold spoons. Take for your wife a service made by Odio. And who wants the diamonds? You Do you sniff tobacco, my dear? I have a lot of tobacco of various varieties. Sell it to Hamburg, they will give it one and a half times more. I have everything, and I have to part with everything. Well, daddy Gobsek, take heart, be yourself ... "

He straightened up and almost sat up in bed; his bronzed face stood out clearly against the pillow. He stretched out his withered hands in front of him and clutched the blanket with his scrawny fingers, he wanted to hold on to it more, looked at the fireplace, as cold as his metallic gaze, and died in full consciousness, showing the gatekeeper, the invalid and me the image of one of those wary old Romans, whom Lethierre depicted behind the consuls in his painting "The Death of the Children of Brutus".

"Youthfully hit the oak, the old zhmikrut!" - said the invalid in his soldier's jargon.

And in my ears still sounded a fantastic list of the wealth of the deceased, and, seeing where his frozen gaze was directed, I involuntarily looked at the heap of ashes.

She seemed too big to me. Taking fire tongs, I plunged them into the ashes, and they stumbled upon something hard - there lay gold and silver, apparently his income during his illness. He no longer had the strength to hide them better, and suspicion did not allow him to send all this to the bank.

"Run to the magistrate," I said to the invalid. "It must be sealed immediately!"

Remembering last words Gobsek and what the gatekeeper told me, I took the keys to the rooms on both floors and went to inspect them. Already in the first one, which I opened, I found an explanation for his chatter, which seemed to me meaningless, and I saw how far avarice can go when it turns into a blind, illogical instinct, the manifestations of which we so often observe in provincial misers. . In the room adjacent to the bedroom of the deceased, I found rotten pies, and heaps of all kinds of food, and even oysters and fish covered with thick mold. I almost suffocated from the stench, which merged many disgusting smells. I saw there jewelry boxes decorated with coats of arms or monograms, snow-white tablecloths, weapons - the road, but without a stamp. Opening a book that seemed to have recently been taken from a shelf, I found several thousand-franc tickets in it. Then I decided to carefully examine every thing, down to the smallest thing, to look around the floor, ceilings, cornices and walls, to find the gold that this Dutchman, worthy of the brush of Rembrandt himself, loved so passionately.

Remembering what strange information he had given me about his only heiress, I realized that I would have to search all the brothels in Paris and hand over huge wealth to the hands of some unlucky woman. And above all, know that, on the basis of quite undeniable documents, Count Ernest de Restaud will, in the next few days, come into possession of a fortune that will allow him to marry Mademoiselle Camille and, in addition, to allocate considerable sums of money to his mother and brother, and to give his sister a dowry.

All right, all right, dear Derville, we will think about it, said Madame de Grandlier. “Count Ernest must be very rich for our family to want to intermarry with his mother. Do not forget that my son will sooner or later become the duc de Grandlieu and unite the fortunes of the two offshoots of our family. I want him to have a son-in-law to his couple.

Do you know what coat of arms Resto has? said the Comte de Born. - Red field, dissected by a silver stripe with four black crosses on a gold background. A very old coat of arms.

Indeed, - confirmed the viscountess. - In addition, Camilla may not meet her mother-in-law, who initiated the motto on this coat of arms: Res tuta2.

Madame de Beauséant received the Comtesse de Restaud into herself,” remarked the uncle.

Oh, only at receptions! said the viscountess.

Reliability (lat.).

Translation by V. Shovkun