The　Red　Inn
  by　Honore　de　Balzac
  Translated　by　Katharine　Prescott　Wormeley
  DEDICATION
  To　Monsieur　le　Marquis　de　Custine。
  THE　RED　INN
  In　I　know　not　what　year　a　Parisian　banker；　who　had　very　extensive
  commercial　relations　with　Germany；　was　entertaining　at　dinner　one　of
  those　friends　whom　men　of　business　often　make　in　the　markets　of　the
  world　through　correspondence；　a　man　hitherto　personally　unknown　to
  him。　This　friend；　the　head　of　a　rather　important　house　in　Nuremburg；
  was　a　stout　worthy　German；　a　man　of　taste　and　erudition；　above　all　a
  man　of　pipes；　having　a　fine；　broad；　Nuremburgian　face；　with　a　square
  open　forehead　adorned　by　a　few　sparse　locks　of　yellowish　hair。　He　was
  the　type　of　the　sons　of　that　pure　and　noble　Germany；　so　fertile　in
  honorable　natures；　whose　peaceful　manners　and　morals　have　never　been
  lost；　even　after　seven　invasions。
  This　stranger　laughed　with　simplicity；　listened　attentively；　and　drank
  remarkably　well；　seeming　to　like　champagne　as　much　perhaps　as　he　liked
  his　straw…colored　Johannisburger。　His　name　was　Hermann；　which　is　that
  of　most　Germans　whom　authors　bring　upon　their　scene。　Like　a　man　who
  does　nothing　frivolously；　he　was　sitting　squarely　at　the　banker's
  table　and　eating　with　that　Teutonic　appetite　so　celebrated　throughout
  Europe；　saying；　in　fact；　a　conscientious　farewell　to　the　cookery　of
  the　great　Careme。
  To　do　honor　to　his　guest　the　master　of　the　house　had　invited　a　few
  intimate　friends；　capitalists　or　merchants；　and　several　agreeable　and
  pretty　women；　whose　pleasant　chatter　and　frank　manners　were　in　harmony
  with　German　cordiality。　Really；　if　you　could　have　seen；　as　I　saw；　this
  joyous　gathering　of　persons　who　had　drawn　in　their　commercial　claws；
  and　were　speculating　only　on　the　pleasures　of　life；　you　would　have
  found　no　cause　to　hate　usurious　discounts；　or　to　curse　bankruptcies。
  Mankind　can't　always　be　doing　evil。　Even　in　the　society　of　pirates　one
  might　find　a　few　sweet　hours　during　which　we　could　fancy　their
  sinister　craft　a　pleasure…boat　rocking　on　the　deep。
  〃Before　we　part；　Monsieur　Hermann　will；　I　trust；　tell　one　more　German
  story　to　terrify　us？〃
  These　words　were　said　at　dessert　by　a　pale　fair　girl；　who　had　read；　no
  doubt；　the　tales　of　Hoffmann　and　the　novels　of　Walter　Scott。　She　was
  the　only　daughter　of　the　banker；　a　charming　young　creature　whose
  education　was　then　being　finished　at　the　Gymnase；　the　plays　of　which
  she　adored。　At　this　moment　the　guests　were　in　that　happy　state　of
  laziness　and　silence　which　follows　a　delicious　dinner；　especially　if
  we　have　presumed　too　far　on　our　digestive　powers。　Leaning　back　in
  their　chairs；　their　wrists　lightly　resting　on　the　edge　of　the　table；
  they　were　indolently　playing　with　the　gilded　blades　of　their　dessert…
  knives。　When　a　dinner　comes　to　this　declining　moment　some　guests　will
  be　seen　to　play　with　a　pear　seed；　others　roll　crumbs　of　bread　between
  their　fingers　and　thumbs；　lovers　trace　indistinct　letters　with
  fragments　of　fruit；　misers　count　the　stones　on　their　plate　and　arrange
  them　as　a　manager　marshals　his　supernumeraries　at　the　back　of　the
  stage。　These　are　little　gastronomic　felicities　which　Brillat…Savarin；
  otherwise　so　complete　an　author；　overlooked　in　his　book。　The　footmen
  had　disappeared。　The　dessert　was　like　a　squadron　after　a　battle：　all
  the　dishes　were　disabled；　pillaged；　damaged；　several　were　wandering
  around　the　table；　in　spite　of　the　efforts　of　the　mistress　of　the　house
  to　keep　them　in　their　places。　Some　of　the　persons　present　were　gazing
  at　pictures　of　Swiss　scenery；　symmetrically　hung　upon　the　gray…toned
  walls　of　the　dining…room。　Not　a　single　guest　was　bored；　in　fact；　I
  never　yet　knew　a　man　who　was　sad　during　his　digestion　of　a　good
  dinner。　We　like　at　such　moments　to　remain　in　quietude；　a　species　of
  middle　ground　between　the　reverie　of　a　thinker　and　the　comfort　of　the
  ruminating　animals；　a　condition　which　we　may　call　the　material
  melancholy　of　gastronomy。
  So　the　guests　now　turned　spontaneously　to　the　excellent　German；
  delighted　to　have　a　tale　to　listen　to；　even　though　it　might　prove　of
  no　interest。　During　this　blessed　interregnum　the　voice　of　a　narrator
  is　always　delightful　to　our　languid　senses；　it　increases　their
  negative　happiness。　I；　a　seeker　after　impressions；　admired　the　faces
  about　me；　enlivened　by　smiles；　beaming　in　the　light　of　the　wax
  candles；　and　somewhat　flushed　by　our　late　good　cheer；　their　diverse
  expressions　producing　piquant　effects　seen　among　the　porcelain
  baskets；　the　fruits；　the　glasses；　and　the　candelabra。
  All　of　a　sudden　my　imagination　was　caught　by　the　aspect　of　a　guest　who
  sat　directly　in　front　of　me。　He　was　a　man　of　medium　height；　rather　fat
  and　smiling；　having　the　air　and　manner　of　a　stock…broker；　and
  apparently　endowed　with　a　very　ordinary　mind。　Hitherto　I　had　scarcely
  noticed　him；　but　now　his　face；　possibly　darkened　by　a　change　in　the
  lights；　seemed　to　me　to　have　altered　its　character；　it　had　certainly
  grown　ghastly；　violet　tones　were　spreading　over　it；　you　might　have
  thought　it　the　cadaverous　head　of　a　dying　man。　Motionless　as　the
  personages　painted　on　a　diorama；　his　stupefied　eyes　were　fixed　on　the
  sparkling　facets　of　a　cut…glass　stopper；　but　certainly　without
  observing　them；　he　seemed　to　be　engulfed　in　some　weird　contemplation
  of　the　future　or　the　past。　When　I　had　long　examined　that　puzzling　face
  I　began　to　reflect　about　it。　〃Is　he　ill？〃　I　said　to　myself。　〃Has　he
  drunk　too　much　wine？　Is　he　ruined　by　a　drop　in　the　Funds？　Is　he
  thinking　how　to　cheat　his　creditors？〃
  〃Look！〃　I　said　to　my　neighbor；　pointing　out　to　her　the　face　of　the
  unknown　man；　〃is　that　an　embryo　bankrupt？〃
  〃Oh；　no！〃　she　answered；　〃he　would　be　much　gayer。〃　Then；　nodding　her
  head　gracefully；　she　added；　〃If　that　man　ever　ruins　himself　I'll　tell
  it　in　Pekin！　He　possesses　a　million　in　real　estate。　That's　a　former
  purveyor　to　the　imperial　armies；　a　good　sort　of　man；　and　rather
  original。　He　married　a　second　time　by　way　of　speculation；　but　for　all
  that　he　makes　his　wife　extremely　happy。　He　has　a　pretty　daughter；　whom
  he　refused　for　many　years　to　recognize；　but　the　death　of　his　son；
  unfortunately　killed　in　a　duel；　has　compelled　him　to　take　her　home；
  for　he　could　not　otherwise　have　children。　The　poor　girl　has　suddenly
  become　one　of　the　richest　heiresses　in　Paris。　The　death　of　his　son
  threw　the　poor　man　into　an　agony　of　grief；　which　sometimes　reappears
  on　the　surface。〃
  At　that　instant　the　purveyor　raised　his　eyes　and　rested　them　upon　me；
  that　glance　made　me　quiver；　so　full　was　it　of　gloomy　thought。　But
  suddenly　his　face　grew　lively；　he　picked　up　the　cut…glass　stopper　and
  put　it；　with　a　mechanical　movement；　into　a　decanter　full　of　water　that
  was　near　his　plate；　and　then　he　turned　to　Monsieur　Hermann　and　smiled。
  After　all；　that　man；　now　beatified　by　gastronomical　enjoyments；　hadn't
  probably　two　ideas　in　his　brain；　and　was　thinking　of　nothing。
  Consequently　I　felt　rather　ashamed　of　wasting　my　powers　of　divination
  〃in　anima　vili；〃of　a　doltish　financier。
  While　I　was　thus　making；　at　a　dead　loss；　these　phrenological
  observations；　the　worthy　German　had　lined　his　nose　with　a　good　pinch
  of　snuff　and　was　now　beginning　his　tale。　It　would　be　difficult　to
  reproduce　it　in　his　own　language；　with　his　frequent　interruptions　and
  wordy　digressions。　Therefore；　I　now　write　it　down　in　my　own　way；
  leaving　out　the　faults　of　the　Nuremburger；　and　taking　only　what　his
  tale　may　have　had　of　interest　and　poesy　with　the　coolness　of　writers
  who　forget　to　put　on　the　title　pages　of　their　books：　〃Translated　from
  the　German。〃
  THOUGHT　AND　ACT
  Toward　the　end　of　Venemiaire；　year　VII。；　a　republican　period　which　in
  the　present　day　corresponds　to　October　20；　1799；　two　young　men；
  leaving　Bonn　in　the　early　morning；　had　reached　by　nightfall　the
  environs　of　Andernach；　a　small　town　standing　on　the　left　bank　of　the
  Rhine　a　few　leagues　from　Coblentz。　At　that　time　the　French　army；
  commanded　by　Augereau；　was　manoeuvring　before　the　Austrians；　who　then
  occupied　the　right　bank　of　the　river。　The　headquarters　of　the
  Republican　division　was　at　Coblentz；　and　one　of　the　demi…brigades
  belonging　to　Augereau's　corps　was　stationed　at　Andernach。
  The　two　travellers　were　Frenchmen。　At　sight　of　their　uniforms；　blue
  mixed　with　white　and　faced　with　red　velvet；　their　sabres；　and　above
  all　their　hats　covered　with　a　green　varnished…cloth　and　adorned　with　a
  tricolor　plume；　even　the　German　peasants　had　recognized　army　surgeons；
  a　body　of　men　of　science　and　merit　liked；　for　the　most　part；　not　only
  in　our　own　army　but　also　in　the　countries　invaded　by　our　troops。　At
  this　period　many　sons　of　good　families　taken　from　their　medical
  studies　by　the　recent　conscription　law　due　to　General　Jourdan；　had
  naturally　preferred　to　continue　their　studies　on　the　battle…field
  rather　than　be　restricted　to　mere　military　duty；　little　in　keeping
  wi