CHAPTER XLI
TO COME TO THE POINT
It was equally a part of Honore Grandissime's nature and of his art as amerchant to wear a look of serene leisure. With this look on his face hereentered his counting-room after his morning visit to Frowenfeld'sshop. He paused a moment outside the rail, gave the weak-eyed gentlemanwho presided there a quiet glance equivalent to a beckon, and, as thatperson came near, communicated two or three items of intelligence orinstruction concerning office details, by which that invaluable divinerof business meanings understood that he wished to be let alone for anhour. Then M. Grandissime passed on into his private office, and,shutting the door behind him, walked briskly to his desk and sat down.
He dropped his elbows upon a broad paper containing some recentlywritten, unfinished memoranda that included figures in column, cast hiseyes quite around the apartment, and then covered his face with hispalms--a gesture common enough for a tired man of business in a momentof seclusion; but just as the face disappeared in the hands, the lookof serene leisure gave place to one of great mental distress. The paperunder his elbows, to the consideration of which he seemed about toreturn, was in the handwriting of his manager, with additions by his ownpen. Earlier in the day he had come to a pause in the making of theseadditions, and, after one or two vain efforts to proceed, had laid downhis pen, taken his hat, and gone to see the unlucky apothecary. Now hetook up the broken thread. To come to a decision; that was the taskwhich forced from him his look of distress. He drew his face slowlythrough his palms, set his lips, cast up his eyes, knit his knuckles,and then opened and struck his palms together, as if to say: "Now, come;let me make up my mind."
There may be men who take every moral height at a dash; but to the mostof us there must come moments when our wills can but just rise and walkin their sleep. Those who in such moments wait for clear views find,when the issue is past, that they were only yielding to the devil'schloroform.
Honore Grandissme bent his eyes upon the paper. But he saw neither itsfigures nor its words. The interrogation, "Surrender Fausse Riviere?"appeared to hang between his eyes and the paper, and when his resolutiontried to answer "Yes," he saw red flags; he heard the auctioneer's drum;he saw his kinsmen handing house-keys to strangers; he saw the oldservants of the great family standing in the marketplace; he sawkinswomen pawning their plate; he saw his clerks (Brahmins, Mandarins,Grandissimes) standing idle and shabby in the arcade of the Cabildo andon the banquettes of Maspero's and the Veau-qui-tete; he saw red-eyedyoung men in the Exchange denouncing a man who, they said, had,ostensibly for conscience's sake, but really for love, forced upon thewoman he had hoped to marry a fortune filched from his own kindred. Hesaw the junto of doctors in Frowenfeld's door charitably deciding himinsane; he saw the more vengeful of his family seeking him withhalf-concealed weapons; he saw himself shot at in the rue Royale, in therue Toulouse, and in the Place d'Armes: and, worst of all, missed.
But he wiped his forehead, and the writing on the paper became, in ameasure, visible. He read:
Total mortgages on the lands of all the Grandissimes $--Total present value of same, titles at buyers' risk --Cash, goods, and accounts --Fausse Riviere Plantation account --
There were other items, but he took up the edge of the papermechanically, pushed it slowly away from him, leaned back in his chairand again laid his hands upon his face.
"Suppose I retain Fausse Riviere," he said to himself, as if he had notsaid it many times before.
Then he saw memoranda that were not on any paper before him--such amortgage to be met on such a date; so much from Fausse RivierePlantation account retained to protect that mortgage from foreclosure;such another to be met on such a date--so much more of same account toprotect it. He saw Aurora and Clotilde Nancanou, with anguished faces,offering woman's pleadings to deaf constables. He saw the remainder ofAurora's plantation account thrown to the lawyers to keep the questionof the Grandissime titles languishing in the courts. He saw the fortunesof his clan rallied meanwhile and coming to the rescue, himself andkindred growing independent of questionable titles, and even FausseRiviere Plantation account restored, but Aurora and Clotilde nowhere tobe found. And then he saw the grave, pale face of Joseph Frowenfeld.
He threw himself forward, drew the paper nervously toward him, andstared at the figures. He began at the first item and went over thewhole paper, line by line, testing every extension, proving everyaddition, noting if possibly any transposition of figures had been madeand overlooked, if something was added that should have been subtracted,or subtracted that should have been added. It was like a prisoner tryingthe bars of his cell.
Was there no way to make things happen differently? Had he notoverlooked some expedient? Was not some financial manoeuvre possiblewhich might compass both desired ends? He left his chair and walked upand down, as Joseph at that very moment was doing in the room where hehad left him, came back, looked at the paper, and again walked up anddown. He murmured now and then to himself: "_Self_-denial--that is notthe hard work. Penniless myself--_that_ is play," and so on. He turnedby and by and stood looking up at that picture of the man in the cuirasswhich Aurora had once noticed. He looked at it, but he did not see it.He was thinking--"Her rent is due to-morrow. She will never believe I amnot her landlord. She will never go to my half-brother." He turned oncemore and mentally beat his breast as he muttered: "Why do I not decide?"
Somebody touched the doorknob. Honore stepped forward and opened it. Itwas a mortgager.
"_Ah! entrez, Monsieur_."
He retained the visitor's hand, leading him in and talking pleasantly inFrench until both had found chairs. The conversation continued in thattongue through such pointless commercial gossip as this:
"So the brig _Equinox_ is aground at the head of the Passes," said M.Grandissime.
"I have just heard she is off again."
"Aha?"
"Yes; the Fort Plaquemine canoe is just up from below. I understand JohnMcDonough has bought the entire cargo of the schooner _Freedom_."
"No, not all; Blanque et Fils bought some twenty boys and women out ofthe lot. Where is she lying?"
"Right at the head of the Basin."
And much more like this; but by and by the mortgager came to the pointwith the casual remark:
"The excitement concerning land titles seems to increase rather thansubside."
"They must have _something_ to be excited about, I suppose," said M.Grandissime, crossing his legs and smiling. It was tradesman's talk.
"Yes," replied the other; "there seems to be an idea current to-day thatall holders under Spanish titles are to be immediately dispossessed,without even process of court. I believe a very slight indiscretion onthe part of the Governor-General would precipitate a riot."
"He will not commit any," said M. Grandissime with a quiet gravity,changing his manner to that of one who draws upon a reserve of privateinformation. "There will be no outbreak."
"I suppose not. We do not know, really, that the American Congress willthrow any question upon titles; but still--"
"What are some of the shrewdest Americans among us doing?" asked M.Grandissime.
"Yes," replied the mortgager, "it is true they are buying these verytitles; but they may be making a mistake?"
Unfortunately for the speaker, he allowed his face an expression ofargumentative shrewdness as he completed this sentence, and M.Grandissime, the merchant, caught an instantaneous full view of hismotive; he wanted to buy. He was a man whose known speculative policywas to "go in" in moments of panic.
M. Grandissime was again face to face with the question of the morning.To commence selling must be to go on selling. This, as a plan, includedrestitution to Aurora; but it meant also dissolution to theGrandissimes, for should their _sold_ titles be pronounced bad, then thetitles of other lands would be bad; many an asset among M. Grandissime'smemoranda would shrink into nothing, and the meagre proceeds of theGrandissime estates, left to meet th
e strain without the aid of Aurora'saccumulated fortune, would founder in a sea of liabilities; while shouldthese titles, after being parted with, turn out good, his incensedkindred, shutting their eyes to his memoranda and despising hisexhibits, would see in him only the family traitor, and he would goabout the streets of his town the subject of their implacabledenunciation, the community's obloquy, and Aurora's cold evasion. Somuch, should he sell. On the other hand, to decline to sell was to enterupon that disingenuous scheme of delays which would enable him to availhimself and his people of that favorable wind and tide of fortune whichthe Cession had brought. Thus the estates would be lost, if lost at all,only when the family could afford to lose them, and Honore Grandissimewould continue to be Honore the Magnificent, the admiration of the cityand the idol of his clan. But Aurora--and Clotilde--would have to eatthe crust of poverty, while their fortunes, even in his hands, must bearall the jeopardy of the scheme. That was all. Retain Fausse Riviere andits wealth, and save the Grandissimes; surrender Fausse Riviere, letthe Grandissime estates go, and save the Nancanous. That was thewhole dilemma.
"Let me see," said M. Grandissime. "You have a mortgage on one of ourGolden Coast plantations. Well, to be frank with you, I was thinking ofthat when you came in. You know I am partial to prompt transactions--Ithought of offering you either to take up that mortgage or to sell youthe plantation, as you may prefer. I have ventured to guess that itwould suit you to own it."
And the speaker felt within him a secret exultation in the idea that hehad succeeded in throwing the issue off upon a Providence that couldcontrol this mortgager's choice.
"I would prefer to leave that choice with you," said the coy would-bepurchaser; and then the two went coquetting again for another moment.
"I understand that Nicholas Girod is proposing to erect a four-storybrick building on the corner of Royale and St. Pierre. Do you think itpracticable? Do you think our soil will support such a structure?"
"Pitot thinks it will. Bore says it is perfectly feasible."
So they dallied.
"Well," said the mortgager, presently rising, "you will make up yourmind and let me know, will you?"
The chance repetition of those words "make up your mind" touched HonoreGrandissime like a hot iron. He rose with the visitor.
"Well, sir, what would you give us for our title in case we shoulddecide to part with it?"
The two men moved slowly, side by side, toward the door, and in thehalf-open doorway, after a little further trifling, the title was sold.
"Well, good-day," said M. Grandissime. "M. de Brahmin will arrange thepapers for us to-morrow."
He turned back toward his private desk.
"And now," thought he, "I am acting without resolving. No merit; nostrength of will; no clearness of purpose; no emphatic decision; nothingbut a yielding to temptation."
And M. Grandissime spoke truly; but it is only whole men who soyield--yielding to the temptation to do right.
He passed into the counting-room, to M. De Brahmin, and standing theretalked in an inaudible tone, leaning over the upturned spectacles of hismanager, for nearly an hour. Then, saying he would go to dinner, he wentout. He did not dine at home nor at the Veau-qui-tete, nor at any of theclubs; so much is known; he merely disappeared for two or three hoursand was not seen again until late in the afternoon, when two or threeBrahmins and Grandissimes, wandering about in search of him, met him onthe levee near the head of the rue Bienville, and with an exclamation ofwonder and a look of surprise at his dusty shoes, demanded to knowwhere he had hid himself while they had been ransacking the town insearch of him.
"We want you to tell us what you will do about our titles."
He smiled pleasantly, the picture of serenity, and replied:
"I have not fully made up my mind yet; as soon as I do so I will let youknow."
There was a word or two more exchanged, and then, after a moment ofsilence, with a gentle "Eh, bien," and a gesture to which they wereaccustomed, he stepped away backward, they resumed their hurried walkand talk, and he turned into the rue Bienville.
The Grandissimes Page 42