7 A nod to Marie-Henri Beyle's own mathematics tutor in Grenoble, who helped his student gain entry to the École Polytechnique and thus escape Grenoble for Paris.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Patterns of behavior, In 1830
"So you're all the fashion!" And she laughed heartily, thinking of the rouge that Madame Valenod felt herself bound to apply every time Julien was expected. "I suspect she has designs on your heart," she added. Lunch was delicious. The children's presence, no matter how troublesome it might have seemed, in fact added to the general happiness. The poor children could not fully express their joy at seeing Julien again. The servants had not failed to tell them how Julien had been offered two hundred francs more, to educate the little Valenods. In the middle of the meal, Stanislas-Xavier, still pale from his serious illness, suddenly asked his mother how much his silver plate and the goblet he drank from were worth. "And why are you asking?" "I want to sell them so I can give the money to Monsieur Julien, so he won't be cheated if he stays with us." Julien hugged him, tears in his eyes. The boy's mother wept freely as Julien, who had taken Stanislas onto his lap, explained that he didn't need to use the word cheated, which when employed in this way was a servant's way of speaking. Seeing the pleasure he was giving Madame de Rênal, he tried to explain, using colorful examples at which the children laughed, what being "cheated" really meant. "I understand," said Stanislas. "It's the crow who's stupid enough to drop his cheese, and that flatterer, the fox, picks it up."8 Madame de Rênal, wild with happiness, covered the children with kisses, which she could hardly have managed without a bit of help from Julien. Suddenly the door opened: it was Monsieur de Rênal. His dour, unhappy face was in strange contrast to the gentle joy his presence had driven away. Madame de Rênal grew pale: she felt unable to deny a thing. Julien took hold of the conversation and, speaking quite loudly, set himself to telling His Honor the Mayor about Stanislas and the silver goblet he'd wanted to sell. He was sure the story would not be well received. At first, hearing the word silver, Monsieur de Rênal raised his eyebrows, purely out of habit. "Any mention of this metal," he said, "is always prefatory to a draft drawn on my bank account." But more than his concern with silver was involved: he'd experienced a surge of suspicion. For such happiness to be animating his family, in his absence, did not sit well with a man so dominated by prickly vanity. As his wife, for her husband's benefit, praised Julien's cheerful, lively way of broaching new ideas to their children: "Yes, yes! I quite understand, he's making me hateful to my own children. He's entirely comfortable, being a hundred times more likable than me—I being, in the end, lord and master here. In our time, everyone likes to cast aspersions on legitimate authority.9 Poor France!" Madame de Rênal did not concern herself with any subtleties, in her greeting to her husband. She had been contemplating the possibility, before he'd appeared, of spending twelve hours with Julien. She had an enormous number of things to buy in town, and declared her absolute intention that they dine at a café: no matter what her husband might say or do, her mind was made up. The very word café completely captivated the children—this word that contemporary prudes mouth with such pleasure.