The candid and naive manner in which this good man expressed himself convinced me that of all the professions that of a literary wit was the most thankless and thoughtless one, but the true merits of the man also assured me that literature, like any other profession, has its share of fortunate people and that there exists a considerable number of authors who earned their fame and reputation more thanks to their lucky stars than with the help of their talents. Oh, how many false celebrities have I known in Paris about whom not a single soul would have ever heard were it not for the protection of some influential personage at Court or for a whore who vouchsafed for his credit and good standing. I know of so many who are considered high-ranking pupils of Apollo thanks to the aforementioned authorities, and who would never be capable of milking the sterile brains for just a mere fraction of the brilliant ideas that flowed out of the mind of the good Abbe Pellegrin. I beg indulgence for the odious comparison, but the poor devil reminds me of the Jester at the fairs, generating the mockery and derisive laughter of the common people, and being doomed to remain eternally a plaything for his colleagues, albeit he is fundamentally of far more value than all of them together. We can safely draw the conclusion that any amount of talent is absolutely useless unless it gets help from Fate. It depends upon the circumstances, to create great men; Nature merely supplies ability.
But, let us go back to our great provider, the money man. The authorities had selected him to travel the circuit, which means that he had to see to it that his underlings dealt severely enough with the people in squeezing them dry and robbing them blind, and to find out if any other methods could be applied to milk them for even more. We therefore relinquished our mutual contract while remaining good friends, and I was free once more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. A WIDOW AGAIN
I should have answered a question a long time ago, a question which my readers have undoubtedly asked themselves more than once. How was it possible for Margot, who was obviously born with the temperament of a Messalina, to get any satisfaction out of affairs with people she met only for personal gain and who for the most part were considerably less than Hercules in the art of making love? No question makes more sense and it is only right that I satisfy your curiosity. So it may please you to learn, my dear gentlemen readers, that I had in my service — following the example of the duchesses of the Old Court and many of my own colleagues (but, please, let that remain a secret between us)-a young and strong lackey who made me feel comfortable, so comfortable indeed that, even though at times my conscience bothered me somewhat, I never changed my methods. Aside from the fact that these fellows remain unimportant, they supply their services at an instant's notice and they are never boring like honorable people. And it is also very easy to get rid of them if they become impudent or bold. Just give them a solid whipping, pay them and send them away; that is not difficult at all. Personally I have never had any need for these ultimate measures because I have always been careful to get them fresh from the country. I have the satisfaction of training them myself and bend them according to my own desires. I definitely forbid them to have any contact with their own kind because I am afraid that those fellows could spoil their innocence and divert their attention from the work at hand. I keep them, as it were, on a chain. They are well-kept and fed, like roosters in a hen house; or, to be less descriptive, like those fortunate superiors of the nuns who have no other care in the world than to keep them piously in good condition and surrender unconditionally to whatever else may arise.
There you have it, gentlemen — since you kept insisting — the recipe I use daily to temper the glowing fire of my unfulfilled passions. With the use of this ingenious system, I avoid mixing my pleasures with that certain tinge of bitterness. I take my enjoyment in peace and quiet, without having to be afraid of the caprices and bad temper of some domineering lover who might treat me as his slave, and who could possibly force me to pay him for his caresses out of my hard-earned savings, thus reducing me one of these days to beggary. I do not belong to that breed of common street whores.
It may very well be that those who long for beautiful passion and platonic love can thrive on it; I feed by no means on hot and undulating passions, since pompous and artificial emotions while making love are not the kind of nourishment I consider healthy for my constitution. I need stronger fare. Mister Plato surely was a funny character prescribing his ways of love. What would have happened to the human race if everyone had followed the ruffled train of thought of this spoiler of our profession?
But, let us resume our story.
The news of my widowhood barely had time to spread through Paris, when I was besieged by a throng of new admirers from all classes and of all sorts. It was a special Ambassador who thoroughly liberated me from their molestations. I could not hide my joy of having made such an important conquest. My vanity was flattered enormously. It was an incredible satisfaction to know that I had intrigued and captured a man whose adroitness was able to sway opinions, who could change the entire system of European affairs with the acuteness of his brilliant thoughts and his thorough knowledge of the varied interests of the sovereign and his cabinet, and who could at the same time change everything for the common good and contribute to the greater glory of his country. That was the glorious picture I had in my mind of my new master, the Ambassador, ere I had met him personally. I did not doubt for a moment the existence of a thousand more beautiful characteristics in addition to the rare and outstanding talents I have just mentioned, and it did not dawn on me that one had to have a rather towering personality to be able to fulfill expectations of such magnitude. My high opinion of him was actually strengthened by the rather peculiar manner in which we conducted our transactions. We reached our agreement through negotiations. He sent secret emissaries to me, and I dispatched mine to him. They consulted with one another. They listened to the proposed bids which were carefully checked and debated. Each of the parties tried to make the most of it and thus multiplied the difficulties. Failures and disadvantages were found everywhere, and if there were none, they were created on the spot. Whenever they reached agreement at one point, they created disagreements at the next. After several disrupted and newly appointed conferences our plenipotentiaries finally (and luckily) signed the articles and, after having made out duplicates, we were finally satisfied and exchanged the copies of our contracts.
Since I now have reason to believe that the reader has become impatient, and finally wants to know the name of His Excellency, I will not wait any longer to give you his description.
The Ambassador had one of those faces which could be called insignificant and colorless and which is therefore extremely difficult to describe. His stature was slightly above average, not especially well-built, but not exactly too bad either. Like most people of quality, his legs were rather thin and bony. He carried a certain air of pretension which, however, contrasted unfavorably with his average and mediocre face. He held his chin high and his neck stiff which made his cheeks look rather puffy, and he glanced continuously down upon the many decorations which had been bestowed upon him. To judge by his stern, taciturn and introverted expression, one could conclude that he was continually in deep thought. He hardly ever talked, thus indicating that his mind was preoccupied, and his demeanor made it clear that he was very careful and kept a tight reign on his lips during conversations. Whenever a question was posed he answered with a barely discernible nod which was either accompanied by a secretive glance or an imperceptible smile. Who, then, would not believe that my partiality for the Ambassador should turn into regret in less than one month because of these peculiar airs of distinction and his ambiguous behavior? I could never have been talked out of believing that he was one of the most important personages of our time, were it not for the well-intentioned picture that his secretary drew of him. Earlier I have already stated that we have no more rigorous and unrelenting fault-finders than our own servants. If, despite their ignorance, our faults do not escape them, how could we possibly hope to avoid their sharp tongues when they happen to be intelligent and well-informed? This one was too enlightened to be taken in by the arrogance and forced seriousness of his Lord and Master. No matter whom the servants are talking about, I have always found that their observations are invariably correct, and thus I have decided, dear reader, to let you know what the findings of the Secretary were. This is the extent of what he had to say to me: