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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Don't trust people unless they live in hovels like Claparon," said Gigonnet. "Hey! mein freint," said the fat Nucingen to du Tillet, "you haf joust missed blaying me a bretty drick in zenting Pirodot to me. I don't know," he added, addressing Gobenheim the manufacturer, "vy he tid not ask me for fifdy tousand francs. I should haf gif dem to him."
"If you are a good whist-player, monsieur," said Gobenheim, flourishing five cards held like a fan, "I must say I have never met a man as accomplished as you." The remark raised a laugh, for it was the translation of everybody's thought. "I play it sufficiently well to live in the provinces for the rest of my days," replied Canalis.
That evening Gobenheim did not appear, and Butscha was Dumay's partner against Monsieur and Madame Latournelle.
It was in fact an excessively amusing little warfare, with its marches and countermarches and stratagems, all of which were keenly enjoyed by the Dumays, the Latournelles, Gobenheim, and Butscha, who, in conclave assembled, said horrible things of these noble personages, cruelly noting and intelligently studying all their little meannesses.
This curiosity, barely veiled by the commonplace salutations and inquiries of the visitors, would have revealed even to an indifferent person the existence of the domestic plot to which Modeste was expected to fall a victim; but Gobenheim, more than indifferent, noticed nothing, and proceeded to light the candles on the card-table.
"Monsieur Charles Mignon sailed this morning on the 'Modeste' for Asia Minor, leaving full powers with the undersigned to sell his whole property, both landed and personal. "DUMAY, assignee of the Bank accounts, LATOURNELLE, notary, assignee of the city and villa property, GOBENHEIM, assignee of the commercial property."
But before I become another Gobenheim, I seek to know whether this dream could be really carried out. What do you say, mademoiselle, you?" Modeste was so astonished that she did not notice the question. The trap of the lover was much better baited than that of the soldier, for the poor girl was rendered speechless. "Poor Butscha!" whispered Madame Latournelle to her husband.
But she manipulated for herself secretly a little fortune of two hundred thousand francs, the result of her savings for the last three years and of the constant movement of the three hundred thousand francs, for she never admitted the possession of more than that known sum. "The more you make, the less you get rich," said Gobenheim to her one day. "Water is so dear," she answered.
The conversation, in which the Modeste of her letters was once more in the ascendant, turned naturally on the man whose genius, unfortunately for his fame, was appreciable only by the faculty and men of science. Gobenheim contributed a phrase which is the sacred chrism of genius as interpreted in these days by public economists and bankers, "He makes a mint of money."
This apparent devotion to the Mignon family allowed it to be supposed that Gobenheim had a heart; it also released him from the necessity of going into the society of Havre and incurring useless expenses, thus upsetting the orderly economy of his domestic life. This disciple of the golden calf went to bed at half-past ten o'clock and got up at five in the morning.
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