The Clique of Gold HTML version
There is not in all Paris a house better kept or more inviting-looking than No. 23 in
Grange Street. As soon as you enter, you are struck by a minute, extreme neatness, which
reminds you of Holland, and almost sets you a-laughing. The neighbors might use the
brass plate on the door as a mirror to shave in; the stone floor is polished till it shines; and
the woodwork of the staircase is varnished to perfection.
In the entrance-hall a number of notices, written in the peculiar style which owners of
houses affect, request the tenants to respect the property of others, without regard to the
high price they pay for their share. "Clean your feet, if you please," they say to all who
come in or go out. "No spitting allowed on the stairs." "Dogs are not allowed in the
Nevertheless, this admirably-kept house "enjoyed" but a sorry reputation in the
neighborhood. Was it worse than other houses,--No. 21, for instance, or No. 25? Probably
not; but there is a fate for houses as well as for men.
The first story was occupied by the families of two independent gentlemen, whose
simplicity of mind was only equalled by that of their mode of life. A collector, who
occasionally acted as broker, lived in the second story, and had his offices there. The
third story was rented to a very rich man, a baron as people said, who only appeared there
at long intervals, preferring, according to his own account, to live on his estates near
Saintonge. The whole fourth story was occupied by a man familiarly known as Papa
Ravinet, although he was barely fifty years old. He dealt in second-hand merchandise,
furniture, curiosities, and toilet articles; and his rooms were filled to overflowing with a
medley collection of things which he was in the habit of buying at auctions. The fifth
story, finally, was cut up in numerous small rooms and closets, which were occupied by
poor families or clerks, who, almost without exception, disappeared early in the morning,
and returned only as late as possible at night.
An addition to the house in the rear had its own staircase, and was probably in the hands
of still humbler tenants; but then it is so difficult to rent out small lodgings!
However this may have been, the house had a bad reputation; and the lodgers had to bear
the consequences. Not one of them would have been trusted with a dollar's worth of
goods in any of the neighboring shops. No one, however, stood, rightly or wrongly, in as
bad repute as the doorkeeper, or concierge, who lived in a little hole near the great double
entrance-door, and watched over the safety of the whole house. Master Chevassat and his
wife were severely "cut" by their colleagues of adjoining houses; and the most atrocious
stories were told of both husband and wife.
Master Chevassat was reputed to be well off; but the story went that he lent out money,
and did not hesitate to charge a hundred per cent a month. He acted, besides, it was said,
as agent for two of his tenants,--the broker, and the dealer in second-hand goods, and
undertook the executions, when poor debtors were unable to pay. Mrs. Chevassat,