him. He was seized by a frenzied desire to start all over again, to conquer once more, to rise even higher than before and at last plant his foot firmly on the conquered city. No longer with the façade of mendacious wealth but the solid edifice of fortune, the true royalty of gold, reigning over well-filled bags of wealth.
Then the voice of Moser was heard once more, harsh and very sharp, drawing Saccard out of his reflections.
‘The Mexico expedition is costing fourteen million a month, that’s been proved by Thiers * … and you’d have to be blind not to see that the majority in the Chamber has been shaken. There are more than thirty now on the Left. The Emperor himself has seen that absolute power has become impossible, since he now presents himself as the champion of liberty.’ *
Pillerault had ceased to respond, now just sneering contemptuously.
‘Yes, I know, the market seems solid enough to you, and business is good. But wait for the end… You’ll see there’s been altogether too much demolition and rebuilding in Paris! These great public works have exhausted our savings. As for the powerful financial houses that seem so prosperous, just wait until one of them goes down and you’ll see them all collapsing one after another… Not to mention the fact that the people are restive. This International Workingmen’s Association * which has just been founded to improve conditions for the workers, that really frightens me. There’s a protest movement, a revolutionary movement here in France, and it’s growing stronger every day… I tell you, the worm is in the fruit. Everything is going to go bust.’
This provoked a roar of protest. That blasted Moser was decidedly liverish. But even while he spoke, Moser’s eyes never left the table at which Mazaud and Amadieu, in spite of all the noise, were still talking quietly. Gradually the whole room began to be concerned about this very long, confidential chat. What could they have to say that needed all that whispering? Amadieu, no doubt, must be placing orders, preparing some financial coup. Over the last three days disturbing rumours had been circulating about the Suez project. * Moser narrowed his eyes, and he too lowered his voice to say:
‘You know, the English want to stop all the work there. There could well be war.’
This time Pillerault was shaken by the very enormity of this piece of news. It was incredible, and immediately the word flew from tableto table, acquiring the force of certainty: England had sent an ultimatum demanding the immediate cessation of work. That must obviously have been what Amadieu was talking to Mazaud about, giving him the order to sell all his Suez holdings. A buzz of panic arose in the air, among the rich smells and the increasing clatter of dishes. And at that moment what raised the excitement to a peak was the sudden entry of one of the stockbroker’s clerks, little Flory, a lad with a gentle face almost swallowed whole by a thick brown beard. He rushed forward with a packet of order-cards in his hand, and handed them to his boss, whispering in his ear.
‘Good,’ was Mazaud’s only answer, as he tucked the cards away in his order-book. Then, drawing out his watch:
‘Nearly midday! Tell Berthier to wait for me. Be there yourself too, and go and pick up the telegrams.’
When Flory had gone, Mazaud resumed his conversation with Amadieu, took out some other cards from his pocket, and laid them on the table beside his plate; and every minute some departing customer would lean over as he went by and say something, which he promptly noted, between mouthfuls, on one of the pieces of paper. The false news from who knows where, arising out of nothing, was growing ever bigger, like a gathering storm-cloud.
‘You’re selling, aren’t you?’ Moser asked Salmon.
But the silent smile of the latter was so sharp with perspicacity that it left him anxious, worried now about this English ultimatum, not realizing that he had
Then the voice of Moser was heard once more, harsh and very sharp, drawing Saccard out of his reflections.
‘The Mexico expedition is costing fourteen million a month, that’s been proved by Thiers * … and you’d have to be blind not to see that the majority in the Chamber has been shaken. There are more than thirty now on the Left. The Emperor himself has seen that absolute power has become impossible, since he now presents himself as the champion of liberty.’ *
Pillerault had ceased to respond, now just sneering contemptuously.
‘Yes, I know, the market seems solid enough to you, and business is good. But wait for the end… You’ll see there’s been altogether too much demolition and rebuilding in Paris! These great public works have exhausted our savings. As for the powerful financial houses that seem so prosperous, just wait until one of them goes down and you’ll see them all collapsing one after another… Not to mention the fact that the people are restive. This International Workingmen’s Association * which has just been founded to improve conditions for the workers, that really frightens me. There’s a protest movement, a revolutionary movement here in France, and it’s growing stronger every day… I tell you, the worm is in the fruit. Everything is going to go bust.’
This provoked a roar of protest. That blasted Moser was decidedly liverish. But even while he spoke, Moser’s eyes never left the table at which Mazaud and Amadieu, in spite of all the noise, were still talking quietly. Gradually the whole room began to be concerned about this very long, confidential chat. What could they have to say that needed all that whispering? Amadieu, no doubt, must be placing orders, preparing some financial coup. Over the last three days disturbing rumours had been circulating about the Suez project. * Moser narrowed his eyes, and he too lowered his voice to say:
‘You know, the English want to stop all the work there. There could well be war.’
This time Pillerault was shaken by the very enormity of this piece of news. It was incredible, and immediately the word flew from tableto table, acquiring the force of certainty: England had sent an ultimatum demanding the immediate cessation of work. That must obviously have been what Amadieu was talking to Mazaud about, giving him the order to sell all his Suez holdings. A buzz of panic arose in the air, among the rich smells and the increasing clatter of dishes. And at that moment what raised the excitement to a peak was the sudden entry of one of the stockbroker’s clerks, little Flory, a lad with a gentle face almost swallowed whole by a thick brown beard. He rushed forward with a packet of order-cards in his hand, and handed them to his boss, whispering in his ear.
‘Good,’ was Mazaud’s only answer, as he tucked the cards away in his order-book. Then, drawing out his watch:
‘Nearly midday! Tell Berthier to wait for me. Be there yourself too, and go and pick up the telegrams.’
When Flory had gone, Mazaud resumed his conversation with Amadieu, took out some other cards from his pocket, and laid them on the table beside his plate; and every minute some departing customer would lean over as he went by and say something, which he promptly noted, between mouthfuls, on one of the pieces of paper. The false news from who knows where, arising out of nothing, was growing ever bigger, like a gathering storm-cloud.
‘You’re selling, aren’t you?’ Moser asked Salmon.
But the silent smile of the latter was so sharp with perspicacity that it left him anxious, worried now about this English ultimatum, not realizing that he had
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