"Then I am not mistaken," cried Birotteau, triumphantly. "I have coincided with a great man. Macassar is overthrown! Macassar, monsieur, is a cosmetic given--that is, sold, and sold dear--to make the hair grow."
"My dear Monsieur Birotteau," said Vauquelin, "there are not two ounces of Macassar oil in all Europe. Macassar oil has not the slightest action upon the hair; but the Malays buy it up for its weight in gold, thinking that it preserves the hair: they don't know that whale-oil is just as good. No power, chemical, or divine--"
"Divine! oh, don't say that, Monsieur Vauquelin."
"But, my dear monsieur, the first law of God is to be consistent with Himself; without unity, no power--"
"Ah! in that light--"
"No power, as I say, can make the hair grow on bald heads; just as you can never dye, without serious danger, red or white hair. But in advertising the benefits of oil you commit no mistake, you tell no falsehood, and I think that those who use it will probably preserve their hair."
"Do you think that the royal Academy of Sciences would approve of--"
"Oh! there is no discovery in all that," said Vauquelin. "Besides, charlatans have so abused the name of the Academy that it would not help you much. My conscience will not allow me to think the oil of nuts a prodigy."
"What would be the best way to extract it; by pressure, or decoction?"
asked Birotteau.
"Pressure between two hot slabs will cause the oil to flow more abundantly; but if obtained by pressure between cold slabs it will be of better quality. It should be applied to the skin itself," added Vauquelin, kindly, "and not to the hair; otherwise the effect might be lost."
"Recollect all that, Popinot," said Birotteau, with an enthusiasm that sent a glow into his face. "You see before you, monsieur, a young man who will count this day among the finest in his life. He knew you, he venerated you, without ever having seen you. We often talk of you in our home: a name that is in the heart is often on the lips. We pray for you every day, my wife and daughter and I, as we ought to pray for our benefactor."
"Too much for so little," said Vauquelin, rather bored by the voluble gratitude of the perfumer.
"Ta, ta, ta!" exclaimed Birotteau, "you can't prevent our loving you, you who will take nothing from us. You are like the sun; you give light, and those whom you illuminate can give you nothing in return."
The man of science smiled and rose; the perfumer and Popinot rose also.
"Anselme, look well at this room. You permit it, monsieur? Your time is precious, I know, but he will never have another opportunity."
"Well, have you got all you wanted?" said Vauquelin to Birotteau.
"After all, we are both commercial men."
"Pretty nearly, monsieur," said Birotteau, retreating towards the dining-room, Vauquelin following. "But to launch our Comagene Essence we need a good foundation--"
"'Comagene' and 'Essence' are two words that clash. Call your cosmetic 'Oil of Birotteau'; or, if you don't want to give your name to the world, find some other. Why, there's the Dresden Madonna! Ah, Monsieur Birotteau, do you mean that we shall quarrel?"
"Monsieur Vauquelin," said the perfumer, taking the chemist's hand.
"This treasure has no value except the time that I have spent in finding it. We had to ransack all Germany to find it on China paper before lettering. I knew that you wished for it and that your occupations did not leave you time to search for it; I have been your commercial traveller, that is all. Accept therefore, not a paltry engraving, but efforts, anxieties, despatches to and fro, which are the evidence of my complete devotion. Would that you had wished for something growing on the sides of precipices, that I might have sought it and said to you, 'Here it is!' Do not refuse my gift. We have so much reason to be forgotten; allow me therefore to place myself, my wife, my daughter, and the son-in-law I expect to have, beneath your eyes. You must say when you look at the Virgin, 'There are some people in the world who are thinking of me.'"
"I accept," said Vauquelin.
Popinot and Birotteau wiped their eyes, so affected were they by the kindly tone in which the academician uttered the words.
"Will you crown your goodness?" said the perfumer.
"What's that?" exclaimed Vauquelin.
"I assemble my friends"--he rose from his heels, taking, nevertheless, a modest air--"as much to celebrate the emancipation of our territory as to commemorate my promotion to the order of the Legion of honor--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Vauquelin, surprised.
"Possibly I showed myself worthy of that signal and royal favor, by my services on the Bench of commerce, and by fighting for the Bourbons upon the steps of Saint-Roch, on the 13th Vendemiaire, where I was wounded by Napoleon. My wife gives a ball, three weeks from Sunday;
pray come to it, monsieur. Do us the honor to dine with us on that day. Your presence would double the happiness with which I receive my cross. I will write you beforehand."
"Well, yes," said Vauquelin.
"My heart swells with joy!" cried the perfumer, when he got into the street. "He comes to my house! I am afraid I've forgotten what he said about hair: do you remember it, Popinot!"
"Yes, monsieur; and twenty years hence I shall remember it still."
"What a great man! what a glance, what penetration!" said Birotteau.
"Ah! he made no bones about it; he guessed our thoughts at the first word; he has given us the means of annihilating Macassar oil. Yes!
nothing can make the hair grow; Macassar, you lie! Popinot, our fortune is made. We'll go to the manufactory to-morrow morning at seven o'clock; the nuts will be there, and we will press out some oil.
It is all very well for him to say that any oil is good; if the public knew that, we should be lost. If we didn't put some scent and the name of nuts into the oil, how could we sell it for three or four francs the four ounces?"
"You are about to be decorated, monsieur?" said Popinot, "what glory for--"
"Commerce; that is true, my boy."
