Chapter 2 Chapter Two Two Classmate Friends
Octave Sarazan, the doctor's son, was not what one might call a slacker.He was neither stupid nor particularly intelligent, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither tall nor short, with chestnut hair, neither brown nor blond, in short, of the same sort.In middle school, he usually won a second prize and two or three ordinary prizes.In the high school entrance examination, his grade was "pass".When I applied for the Central Polytechnic School for the first time, I was not admitted. When I re-examined the next year, I was admitted as the 126th.He is indecisive and indecisive, he does not seek to make progress, he is always just about enough, and he will not make great achievements in his life.For a person like him, the fate is in the hands of the god of destiny, just like a cork on the top of a wave, let it go south and north, east and west with the change of the wind direction.Their life career is determined by chance.If Dr. Sarrazan had had no illusions about his son's character, he would have hesitated before writing him the well-known letter.However, the best people will be blinded by the relationship between father and son, which is also reasonable.
With the help of luck, Octave met at the beginning of school a stubborn man whose somewhat authoritarian but salutary influence forced him to change.Octave's father sent him to finish high school at the Lycée Charlemagne, and he formed a close friendship with one of his schoolmates.The classmate was an Alsatian named Marcel Bruckmann, one year younger than Octave, but he quickly made Octave feel the pressure in terms of physical strength, intelligence and energy.
Orphaned at the age of twelve, Marcel Brickmann inherited a small annuity, just enough to cover his education.If Octave had not taken him to his parents' house during the school holidays, he would never have walked out of the school gate.
From then on, Dr. Sarazan's home soon became the home of this young Alsatian.In spite of his aloof exterior, he was a man of deep affection, and he knew that his life would belong to these two upright men who treated him like parents.So it was quite natural for him to respect Dr. Sarrazan and his wife and the lovely but serious little girl who had opened her heart to him.However, he expressed his gratitude to them with actions rather than words.Indeed, he offered himself the delightful task of helping Jeanne Leo Octave.Jeanne likes to learn, and he wants to help her become a girl with a sense of justice, perseverance, and knowledge. At the same time, he wants to help Octave become a son worthy of his father.As for the latter task, we must tell the truth that it was not as easy for the Alsace youth to do it as helping Jeanna. Although Jeanne was young, she was better than her brother.Marcel, however, was determined to do double duty.
This is because Marcel Brickmann is a champion with courage and strategy, and Alsace routinely sends such a person to participate in major sports competitions in Paris every year.As a child, he was distinguished by his physical strength, lightness, and intelligence.He is strong-willed and fearless at heart, as sharp-edged as his exterior.When he was in middle school, he was distressed because he was so strong. He wanted to be the first in everything, whether it was the parallel bars or playing ball, whether it was in gymnastics class or in the chemistry laboratory.If one of the exams is over and one fails to win a prize, he thinks the year has been wasted.At the age of twenty, he was already a tall, burly, straight young man, full of vigor and vigor, like a machine running at full speed and crazily.His bright head has been favored by discerning people.He entered the Central Polytechnic School in the same year as Octave, and he was determined to graduate first and go out of school.
Octave was able to admit, but also because of Marcel's persistent energy and his double vigorous fighting spirit.In the year before the exam, Marcel forced him to work hard and urged him to study, and finally his hard work paid off.For Octave, who was weak and indecisive by nature, he showed a kind of pity for Octave, like a lion for a puppy.He is happy to use his excess energy to nourish this tender seedling and let him blossom and bear fruit by his side.
In 1870, two classmates and friends were taking an exam. Suddenly, the Franco-Prussian War broke out.On the second day after the exam, Marcel, who was deeply worried about his country, was anxious because of the urgent situation in Strasbourg and Alsace, so he joined the army and joined the 30th Light Infantry Battalion.Octave immediately followed suit with his fellow students.
They fought side by side, taking part in the grueling battle against the siege at the outpost of Paris.Marcel was shot in Champigny's right arm but carried the epaulet on Bizenval's shoulder.Octave was neither promoted nor injured.To be honest, he couldn't be blamed for this, because in the battle, he was always behind his friend, at most the distance was less than six meters, but these six meters decided everything.
After the war ended and work returned to normal, the two university students lived together, in two adjacent rooms in a small hotel near the school.The misfortune of France, the cession of Arsal and Lorraine, had brought Marcel's character into the maturity of a man.
"It is the job of French youth to make up for the mistakes of their parents," he said. "It can only be accomplished by working hard."
He got up at five o'clock and forced Octave to do the same.Then, he dragged him to the classroom, and after class, he didn't leave him a single step.When I came back, I was busy studying. At most, I would smoke a pipe, drink a cup of coffee, and take a break from time to time.Go to bed at ten o'clock in the evening, not full of joy, but contented and full of mind.From time to time, they go to play a game of billiards, watch a good show, occasionally go to the concert hall to listen to concerts, or go horseback riding in the forest of Verrières, or take a walk in the forest, and go to boxing or fencing twice a week , This is their way of leisure.Octave sometimes showed a marked disinterest in these pastimes, and coveted some unflattering entertainment.He often proposed to see Aristide Leroux, who was "studying law" at the Saint-Michel bar, but Marcel sneered at such crazy ideas, so he was often dismissed.
On October 29, 1871, around seven o'clock in the evening, two good friends sat side by side at a desk as usual, doing their own work by a shared lamp.Marcel devoted himself to an interesting descriptive geometry problem for cutting stones.Octave was brewing - unfortunately, more than anything else - coffee.It was one of the few talents he could boast of being superior to others, and perhaps he thought that each day would provide him with an opportunity to escape for a while from the dreaded drudgery of solving equations.He felt that Marcel was preoccupied with solving those equations a little too much.He let the boiling water filter drop by drop through a thick layer of Arabic fine muha coffee, and this leisurely self-satisfaction probably satisfied him.However, Marcel's painstaking research made him feel guilty, so he couldn't help but want to chat with him and disturb him.
"We'd better get a big coffee pot," he said abruptly. "This old stupid filter is out of modern civilization."
"Then get a big coffee pot! That might save you from wasting an hour every night on this," said Marcel, and went back to solving his equations.
"An arch has an ellipse with three unequal axes as a soffit. Let the largest axis OA=a of the original ellipse ABCD, the median axis OB=6, and the minor axes (O, O'C') perpendicular and parallel is equal to C, then the arch becomes an oblate arch..."
At this time, someone was knocking on the door.
"Mr. Octave Sarazan has a letter," said the hotel servant.As you can imagine, this good distraction was a big hit with the young college student.
"It was from my father," said Octave. "I can recognize his handwriting. . . It is at least a letter from home," he added, after weighing the thick letter lightly.
Marcel knew, as he did, that Dr. Sarrazan was in England.A week before, when he was passing through Paris, he had treated them both to a good dinner at the Palais Royal.This restaurant, famous in the past, is outdated today, but Dr. Sarazan still regards it as the best hotel in Paris.
"If your father talks to you about the Sanitary Assembly, tell me," said Marcel. "He was right to go there. French scholars have always been too isolated from the world." After Marcel finished speaking, he immersed himself in solving the problem: "...the outer arc is composed of a center below O', on the vertical line O and The previous one is composed of similar semi-ellipses. After marking the intersection points of the three main ellipses, F1, F2, and F3, draw auxiliary ellipses and hyperbolas, whose common axis..."
Octave gave a cry, and Marcel immediately looked up.
"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing Octave's pale face, a little disturbed.
"See for yourself!" said Octave, stunned by what he had just learned.
Marcel took the letter, read it from beginning to end, then read it again, glanced at the printed material enclosed with the letter and said: "What a strange thing!"
Then he filled the pipe and lit it meticulously.Octave was waiting to hear his opinion.
"Do you think it's true?" he shouted at Marcel in a choked voice.
"Is it true? . . . It's obviously true. Your father is a very reasonable and scientific man, and if it's not true, he doesn't believe it lightly. Besides, the evidence is here, and it's actually It couldn't be more clear."
The pipe was fully lit, and Marcel resumed his work.Octave stood there flailing his arms, not bothering to finish his coffee, let alone concentrate his thoughts on a problem.However, he needed to talk to be sure that he was not dreaming.
"But...if this is true, it would be truly earth-shattering!...Did you know that five hundred million is a huge fortune?"
Marcel looked up and said approvingly:
"It is indeed huge. There may not be another one in France, and there are only a few people in the United States who are so rich, and there are only five or six in the United States. The whole world adds up to fifteen or twenty."
"And besides that, a title of nobility!" continued Octave, "a title of baronet! I've never dreamed of a title of nobility, but since I've brought it to my door, it's pretty nice, compared to It's far better to just call Sarrazan."
Marcel puffed on his cigarette, but said nothing.The voice of puffing out smoke said it very clearly: "Bah!... Bah!"
"Of course," continued Octave, "I've never wanted, as so many people do, to add a 'de' to my name, or to boast of being some pompous marquis! But to have a genuine It is a good thing that the titles of peerage, true and proper, are duly recorded in the American and Irish peerage books, without the slightest suspicion or ambiguity, as is so often seen . . . "
Marcel's pipe was always making a "Bah! . . . Bah!" sound.
"My dear, it is useless for you to do so," continued Octave confidently, "as the Americans say: 'Blood matters!'"
He stopped talking when he saw Marcel's mocking eyes, and brought the topic back to the huge wealth.
"Do you remember?" he went on to say, "Our math teacher Benome, in his first class every year, would talk about numbers endlessly. Five hundred million is a very, very large number. If you don't use a graph, people It is impossible for the intellect to have a correct conception of it... Just think about it, a person spends a franc every minute, and it takes more than a thousand years to spend this money! Ah! This is really... a strange thing In one case, it turned out to be the heir to a huge sum of 500 million francs!"
"Five hundred million francs!" exclaimed Marcel, shocked by the figure rather than by the event itself. "Do you know how to use it better? Donate it to France to pay reparations! Reparations are ten times higher than this! …"
"You mustn't give my father such a bad idea! . . . " cried Octave, frightened. "He really knows how to do that! I can already see that he is planning something in his own way!... Even if it is deposited in the country, we must at least keep the interest!"
"Come on, you're a born capitalist, but you haven't thought of it until now!" Marcel interjected. "My poor Octave, I have always had the feeling that this sum of money was nothing to your father, who was a man of integrity and reason, and that this large sum, if much smaller, would be nothing to you. It's better. I'd be happier if the annuity you shared with your honest little sister was not this golden mountain!" After speaking, he started to work on the problem again.
As for Octave, he was incapable of doing anything, and he fretted so much about the room that his friend, a little impatient, said to him at last: "You'd better go outside for some air! Very soon." Obviously, you can't do anything tonight!"
"You're right," replied Octave very cheerfully, waiting for the word to do nothing.He snatched up his hat and ran down the stairs into the street in three strides.He had not gone ten paces before he stopped by a gas lamp and hastily read his father's letter again.He needed to reassure himself that he was fully awake.
"Five hundred million!... Five hundred million!..." he repeated. "This is at least twenty-five million yuan in annuities!...Even if my father gives me one million yuan for board and lodging every year, even if he only gives me five hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty thousand, I will still be very happy! Having money But can do a lot! I'm sure I'll spend the money well! I'm not a fool, am I? I've been admitted to the Central Polytechnic School after all! . . . And I've got a title of nobility! ...I will cherish this title!"
He passed a store and examined it in the store's mirror.
"I'm going to have a house, and some horses! . . . One of them is Marcel's. Now that I'm rich, it's obvious that he's rich too. It's just the right time! … ...five billion!...a baronet!...strange, now that it's come true, I feel like I've been waiting for this day! I always have this hunch that I won't be so busy all the time Working with books and sketchpads! . . . Anyway, it's a wonderful dream!"
Octave walked along the arches of the Rue de Rivoli while he was working on these thoughts.He came to the Champs Elysees Avenue, rounded the corner of Wangjia Road, and arrived at Chengji Avenue.In the past, he just casually glanced at the beautiful decorations in the window, thinking that in his life, these are useless things that do not occupy any place.But now, he stopped to watch, thinking with joy, all these treasures, as long as he is willing, will belong to him.
"It's all done for me," he thought, "for me the spinners of Holland turn their spindles, for me the mills of Elbeuf weave the softest cloths, for me watchmakers make fine For me the clocks of the opera house are shining, the violins are playing, the divas are singing for me! Horses are being trained for me at the studs, 'The Café English 'Lights up for me! . . . Paris is mine! . . . All is mine! . . . Will I not travel? Will I not go to India and visit my barony? . . . One day I will be completely Possibly buy a pagoda, along with monks and ivory Buddhas!...I'll have some elephants too!...I'll hunt tigers!...Fine weapons too!...and nice boats! ...Small boat? No! A nice, well-crafted steam yacht, go where you want, stop and go! . . . Mother. I must go to Douai! . . . but the school . . . .He will understand that in this case, I am anxious to see my mother and sister!"
Octave went into a telegraph office and telegraphed to his friend that he was going to Douai and would be back in two days.Then, he called a carriage and came to the North Railway Station.
As soon as he boarded the train, he began to weave his sweet dreams again.At two o'clock in the morning Octave was at the door of the house, knocking desperately and ringing the bell.The doorbell rang in the middle of the night, disturbing the quiet Auberge district.
"Who is sick?" Every family opened the windows, and the women asked each other.
"The doctor is not at home!" shouted the old maid from the top-floor window.
"It is I, Octave! . . . Come down and open the door for me, Francine!"
After waiting ten minutes, Octave finally entered the house.His mother and his sister came running downstairs in their pajamas, and he didn't know why he came home so late.
He read his father's letter aloud, and the doubts disappeared.
Mrs. Sarazan was stunned for a moment.Then, she was so happy that she shed tears, and embraced a pair of children in her arms.She felt that the whole world would soon belong to them. The two young men with hundreds of millions of fortunes would not dare to mess with them in any misfortune.Women, however, are always more adapted than men to these great changes of fortune.Mrs. Sarrazan read her husband's letter again, and thought that his fate, and the fate of the two children after all, was for him to decide, and her heart was calmed.As for Jeanne, she was happy to see her mother and brother happy, and she was happy too.She is only thirteen years old, living in this simple and ordinary family, under the guidance of her teachers and the love of her parents, she already feels happy and sweet, and she can't imagine any greater happiness.She couldn't see how much a few bundles of bank notes could make a difference in her life, so the incident didn't stir her emotions at all.
Mrs. Sarazan married a natural scholar man who devoted herself to scientific research when she was very young. She respected her husband's love of science and loved her husband deeply, although she didn't understand him very well. .Because she couldn't share the happiness her husband gained from scientific research, she sometimes felt a little lonely beside this tenacious scientific research worker, so she focused all her hopes on her two children.She had always dreamed of a bright and splendid future for the two of them, imagining that they were extremely happy.She was not worried about Octave, who was sure of his success.Since he was admitted to the Central Polytechnic School, in her mind, this humble but useful school for young engineers has become a cradle of celebrities.Her only worry is that their poor family background will be an obstacle to her son's bright future, at least it will cause some difficulties, and it will affect her daughter's lifelong affairs in the future.Now, what she understands about her husband's letter is that these worries of hers will no longer exist in the future.Therefore, she felt very satisfied.
The mother and son spent most of the night chatting and planning, while Jeanne, who was very satisfied with the status quo, had no worries about the future, and fell asleep in the armchair early.
When they were going to rest for a while, Sarazoff asked her son:
"You haven't mentioned Marcel to me yet. Have you told him what your father said in his letter? What did he say?"
"Oh!" replied Octave, "you know Marcel! He's not just a gentleman, he's a saintly man! I think he's afraid of us because of such a large inheritance! I mean he's only worried about it." We are not for my father, who says he is clear-headed and sane, and he doesn't worry about him. But, hell! As for me, and you and Jeanne, mother, and especially for me, he said to me bluntly that he I would rather the inheritance be small, an annuity of two thousand five hundred livres..."
"Maybe Marcel is right," Madame Sarazan replied, looking at her son, "a sudden fortune may be a disaster for some people!"
Jeanne has just woken up.She heard her mother's last words.
"You know, mother," she said, rubbing her eyes, and going to her little room, "you know what you told me the other day? You said Marcel was always right. And I, I believe everything our friend Marcel says."
Then, she kissed her mother and withdrew.
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