The Two Brothers
Two brothers. One destined for glory, one destined for obscurity. In nineteenth-century Paris, the Bridau brothers could not be more different: Philippe, the elder, a handsome soldier who rode with Napoleon's armies and now lives on the memory of past heroism, and Joseph, the younger, a struggling painter of genuine talent but humble prospects. Their mother, Agathe, loves only Philippe. She sees Joseph's artistic ambitions as a shameful departure from respectable society, even as she ignores the truth: that her favorite son is bleeding her dry through secret gambling, while the son she dismisses is the only one with a kind heart. Manipulation hides behind charm. Devotion goes unnoticed. Balzac dissects the cruelty of familial love with surgical precision, showing how money, vanity, and prejudice warp the people closest to us. This is a novel about the stories we tell ourselves to justify our prejudices, and the devastating cost of refusing to see truth.
Editions
X-Ray
“My dear Pierre, the affair is clear, you'll have your head chopped off. Let that be a lesson to you!””
— Honoré de Balzac
“Like the moth whose feet are caught in the molten wax of a candle, Rouget rapidly used up his remaining energy.””
— Honoré de Balzac
“He had eaten as much as a travelling actor and drunk like the sands of the desert" Maxence Gilet””
— Honoré de Balzac
“она была жирна, как дрозд после сбора винограда””
— Honoré de Balzac
“Joseph, my boy,” he said, in an off-hand way, “I want some money. Confound it! I owe thirty francs for cigars at my tobacconist’s, and I dare not pass the cursed shop till I’ve paid it. I’ve promised to pay it a dozen times.” “Well, I like your present way best,” said Joseph; “take what you want out of the skull.” “I took all there was last night, after dinner.” “There was forty-five francs.” “Yes, that’s what I made it,” replied Philippe. “I took them; is there any objection?” “No, my friend, no,” said Joseph. “If you were rich, I should do the same by you; only, before taking what I wanted, I should ask you if it were convenient.” “It is very humiliating to ask,” remarked Philippe; “I would rather see you taking as I do, without a word; it shows more confidence. In the army, if a comrade dies, and has a good pair of boots, and you have a bad pair, you change, that’s all.” “Yes, but you don’t take them while he is living.””
— Honoré de Balzac
