CHAPTER XVII. CAYROL IS BLIND
Micheline, on her return to Paris, was a cause of anxiety to all her friends. Morally and physically she was changed. Her former gayety had disappeared. In a few weeks she became thin and seemed to be wasting away. Madame Desvarennes, deeply troubled, questioned her daughter, who answered, evasively, that she was perfectly well and had nothing to trouble her. The mother called in Doctor Rigaud, although she did not believe in the profession, and, after a long conference, took him to see Micheline. The doctor examined her, and declared it was nothing but debility. Madame Desvarennes was assailed with gloomy forebodings. She spent sleepless nights, during which she thought her daughter was dead; she heard the funeral dirges around her coffin. This strong woman wept, not daring to show her anxiety, and trembling lest Micheline should suspect her fears.
Serge was careless and happy, treating the apprehensions of those surrounding him with perfect indifference. He did not think his wife was ill—a little tired perhaps, or it might be change of climate, nothing serious. He had quite fallen into his old ways, spending every night at the club, and a part of the day in a little house in the Avenue Maillot, near the Bois de Boulogne. He had found one charmingly furnished, and there he sheltered his guilty happiness.
It was here that Jeanne came, thickly veiled, since her return from Nice. They each had a latchkey belonging to the door opening upon the Bois. The one who arrived first waited for the other, within the house, whose shutters remained closed to deceive passers-by. Then the hour of departure came; the hope of meeting again did not lessen their sadness at parting.
Jeanne seldom went to the Rue Saint-Dominique. The welcome that Micheline gave her was the same as usual, but Jeanne thought she discovered a coldness which made her feel uncomfortable; and she did not care to meet her lover’s wife, so she made her visits scarce.
Cayrol came every morning to talk on business matters with Madame Desvarennes. He had resumed the direction of his banking establishment. The great scheme of the European Credit Company had been launched by Herzog, and promised great results. Still Herzog caused Cayrol considerable anxiety. Although a man of remarkable intelligence, he had a great failing, and by trying to grasp too much often ended by accomplishing nothing. Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred to him, to which he sacrificed the former.
Thus, Herzog was projecting a still grander scheme to be based on the European Credit. Cayrol, less sanguine, and more practical, was afraid of the new scheme, and when Herzog spoke to him about it, said that things were well enough for him as they were, and that he would not be implicated in any fresh financial venture however promising.
Cayrol’s refusal had vexed Herzog. The German knew what opinion he was held in by the public, and that without the prestige of Cayrol’s name, and behind that, the house of Desvarennes, he would never have been able to float the European Credit as it had been. He was too cunning not to know this, and Cayrol having declined to join him, he looked round in search of a suitable person to inspire the shareholders with confidence.
His daughter often went to the Rue Saint-Dominique. Madame Desvarennes and Micheline had taken a fancy to her, as she was serious, natural, and homelike. They liked to see her, although her father was not congenial to their taste. Herzog had not succeeded in making friends with the mistress; she disliked and instinctively mistrusted him.
One day it was rumored that Suzanne Herzog had gone in for an examination at the Hotel de Ville, and had gained a certificate: People thought it was very ridiculous. What was the good of so much learning for a girl who would have such a large fortune, and who would never know want. Savinien thought it was affectation and most laughable! Madame Desvarennes thought it was most interesting; she liked workers, and considered that the richer people were, the more reason they had to work. Herzog had allowed his daughter to please herself and said nothing.
Springtime had come, and fine weather, yet Micheline’s health did not improve. She did not suffer, but a sort of languor had come over her. For days she never quitted her reclining-chair. She was very affectionate toward her mother, and seemed to be making up for the lack of affection shown during the first months of her marriage.
She never questioned Serge as to his manner of spending his time, though she seldom saw him, except at meal hours. Every week she wrote to Pierre, who was buried in his mines, and after every despatch her mother noticed that she seemed sadder and paler.
Serge and Jeanne grew bolder. They felt that they were not watched. The little house seemed too small for them, and they longed to go beyond the garden, as the air of the Bois was so sweet and scented with violets. A feeling of bravado came over them, and they did not mind being seen together. People would think they were a newly-married couple.
One afternoon they sallied forth, Jeanne wearing a thick veil, and trembling at the risk she was running, yet secretly delighted at going. They chose the most unfrequented paths and solitary nooks. Then, after an hour’s stroll, they returned briskly, frightened at the sounds of carriages rolling in the distance. They often went out after that, and chose in preference the paths near the pond of Madrid where, behind sheltering shrubs, they sat talking and listening to the busy hum of Parisian life, seemingly so far away.
One day, about four o’clock, Madame Desvarennes was going to Saint-Cloud on business, and was crossing the Bois de Boulogne. Her coachman had chosen the most unfrequented paths to save time. She had opened the carriage-window, and was enjoying the lovely scent from the shrubs. Suddenly a watering-cart stopped the way. Madame Desvarennes looked through the window to see what was the matter, and remained stupefied. At the turning of a path she espied Serge, with a woman on his arm. She uttered a cry that caused the couple to turn round. Seeing that pale face, they sought to hide themselves.
In a moment Madame Desvarennes was out of the carriage. The guilty couple fled down a path. Without caring what might be said of her, and goaded on by a fearful rage, she tried to follow them. She especially wished to see the woman who was closely veiled. She guessed her to be Jeanne. But the younger woman, terrified, fled like a deer down a side walk. Madame Desvarennes, quite out of breath, was obliged to stop. She heard the slamming of a carriage-door, and a hired brougham that had been waiting at the end of the path swept by her bearing the lovers toward the town.
The mistress hesitated a moment, then said to her coachman:
“Drive home.” And, abandoning her business, she arrived in the Rue Saint-Dominique a few minutes after the Prince.
With a bound, without going through the offices, without even taking off her bonnet and cloak, she went up to Serge’s apartments. Without hesitating, she entered the smoking-room.
Panine was there. Evidently he was expecting her. On seeing Madame Desvarennes he rose, with a smile:
“One can see that you are at home,” said he, ironically; “you come in without knocking.”
“No nonsense; the moment is ill-chosen,” briefly retorted the mistress. “Why did you run away when you saw me a little while ago?”
“You have such a singular way of accosting people,” he answered, lightly. “You come on like a charge of cavalry. The person with whom I was talking was frightened, she ran away and I followed her.”
“She was doing wrong then if she was frightened. Does she know me?”
“Who does not know you? You are almost notorious—in the corn-market!”
Madame Desvarennes allowed the insult to pass without remark, and advancing toward Serge, said:
“Who is this woman?”
“Shall I introduce her to you?” inquired the Prince, quietly. “She is one of my countrywomen, a Polish—”
“You are a liar!” cried Madame Desvarennes, unable to control her temper any longer. “You are lying most impudently!”
And she was going to add, “That woman was Jeanne!” but prudence checked the sentence on her lips.
Serge turned pale.
“You forget yourself strangely, Madame,” he said, in a dry tone.
“I forgot myself a year ago, not now! It was when I was weak that I forgot myself. When Micheline was between you and me I neither dared to speak nor act.
“But now, since after almost ruining my poor daughter, you deceive her, I have no longer any consideration for you. To make her come over to my side I have only to speak one word.”
“Well, speak it! She is there. I will call her!”
Madame Desvarennes, in that supreme moment, was assailed by a doubt. What if Micheline, in her blind love, did not believe her?
She raised her hand to stop Serge.
“Will not the fear of killing my daughter by this revelation stay you?” asked she, bitterly. “What manner of man are you to have so little heart and conscience?”
Panine burst into laughter.
“You see what your threats are worth, and what value I place on them. Spare them in the future. You ask me what manner of man I am? I will tell you. I have not much patience, I hate to have my liberty interfered with, and I have a horror of family jars. I expect to be master of my own house.”
Madame Desvarennes was roused at these words. Her rage had abated on her daughter’s account, but now it rose to a higher pitch.
“Ah! so this is it, is it?” she said. “You would like perfect liberty, I see! You make such very good use of it. You don’t like to hear remarks upon it. It is more convenient, in fact! You wish to be master in your own house? In your own house! But, in truth, what are you here to put on airs toward me? Scarcely more than a servant. A husband receiving wages from me!”
Serge, with flashing eyes, made a terrible movement. He tried to speak, but his lips trembled, and he could not utter a sound. By a sign he showed Madame Desvarennes the door. The latter looked resolutely at the Prince, and with energy which nothing could henceforth soften, added:
“You will have to deal with me in future! Good-day!”
And, leaving the room with as much calmness as she felt rage when entering it, she went down to the counting-house.
Cayrol was sitting chatting with Marechal in his room. He was telling him that Herzog’s rashness caused him much anxiety. Marechal did not encourage his confidence. The secretary’s opinion on the want of morality on the part of the financier had strengthened. The good feeling he entertained toward the daughter had not counterbalanced the bad impression he had of the father, and he warmly advised Cayrol to break off all financial connection with such a man. Cayrol, indeed, had now very little to do with the European Credit. The office was still at his banking house, and the payments for shares were still made into his bank, but as soon as the new scheme which Herzog was preparing was launched, the financier intended settling in splendid offices which were being rapidly completed in the neighborhood of the Opera. Herzog might therefore commit all the follies which entered his head. Cayrol would be out of it.
Madame Desvarennes entered. At the first glance, the men noticed the traces of the emotion she had just experienced. They rose and waited in silence. When the mistress was in a bad humor everybody gave way to her. It was the custom. She nodded to Cayrol, and walked up and down the office, absorbed in her own thoughts. Suddenly stopping, she said:
“Marechal, prepare Prince Panine’s account.”
The secretary looked up amazed, and did not seem to understand.
“Well! The Prince has had an overdraft; you will give me a statement; that’s all! I wish to see how we two stand.”
The two men, astonished to hear Madame Desvarennes speak of her son-in-law as she would of a customer, exchanged looks.
“You have lent my son-in-law money, Cayrol?”
And as the banker remained silent, still looking at the secretary, Madame added:
“Does the presence of Marechal make you hesitate in answering me? Speak before him; I have told you more than a hundred times that he knows my business as well as I do.”
“I have, indeed, advanced some money to the Prince,” replied Cayrol.
“How much?” inquired Madame Desvarennes.
“I don’t remember the exact amount. I was happy to oblige your son-in-law.”
“You were wrong, and have acted unwisely in not acquainting me of the fact. It is thus that his follies have been encouraged by obliging friends. At all events, I ask you now not to lend him any more.”
Cayrol seemed put out, and, with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up, replied:
“This is a delicate matter which you ask of me. You will cause a quarrel between the Prince and myself—”
“Do you prefer quarreling with me?” asked the mistress.
“Zounds! No!” replied the banker. “But you place me in an embarrassing position! I have just promised to lend Serge a considerable sum to-night.”
“Well! you will not give it to him.”
“That is an act which he will scarcely forgive,” sighed Cayrol.
Madame Desvarennes placed her hand on the shoulder of the banker, and looking seriously at him, said:
“You would not have forgiven me if I had allowed you to render him this service.”
A vague uneasiness filled Cayrol’s heart, a shadow seemed to pass before his eyes, and in a troubled voice he said to the mistress:
“Why so?”
“Because he would have repaid you badly.”
Cayrol thought the mistress was alluding to the money he had already lent, and his fears vanished. Madame Desvarennes would surely repay it.
“So you are cutting off his resources?” he asked.
“Completely,” answered the mistress. “He takes too much liberty, that young gentleman. He was wrong to forget that I hold the purse-strings. I don’t mind paying, but I want a little deference shown me for my money. Good-by! Cayrol, remember my instructions.”
And, shaking hands with the banker, Madame Desvarennes entered her own office, leaving the two men together.
There was a moment’s pause: Cayrol was the first to break the silence.
“What do you think of the Prince’s position?”
“His financial position?” asked Marechal.
“Oh, no! I know all about that! I mean his relation to Madame Desvarennes.”
“Zounds! If we were in Venice in the days of the Aqua-Toffana, the sbirri and the bravi—”
“What rubbish!” interrupted Cayrol, shrugging his shoulders.
“Let me continue,” said the secretary, “and you can shrug your shoulders afterward if you like. If we had been in Venice, knowing Madame Desvarennes as I do, it would not have been surprising to me to have had Master Serge found at the bottom of the canal some fine morning.”
“You are not in earnest,” muttered the banker.
“Much more so than you think. Only you know we live in the nineteenth century, and we cannot make Providence interpose in the form of a dagger or poison so easily as in former days. Arsenic and verdigris are sometimes used, but it does not answer. Scientific people have had the meanness to invent tests by which poison can be detected even when there is none.”
“You are making fun of me,” said Cayrol, laughing.
“I! No. Come, do you wish to do a good stroke of business? Find a man who will consent to rid Madame Desvarennes of her son-in-law. If he succeed, ask Madame Desvarennes for a million francs. I will pay it at only twenty-five francs’ discount, if you like!”
Cayrol was thoughtful. Marechal continued:
“You have known the house a long time, how is it you don’t understand the mistress better? I tell you, and remember this: between Madame Desvarennes and the Prince there is a mortal hatred. One of the two will destroy the other. Which? Betting is open.”
“But what must I do? The Prince relies on me—”
“Go and tell him not to do so any longer.”
“Faith, no! I would rather he came to my office. I should be more at ease. Adieu, Marechal.”
“Adieu, Monsieur Cayrol. But on whom will you bet?”
“Before I venture I should like to know on whose side the Princess is.”
“Ah, dangler! You think too much of the women! Some day you will be let in through that failing of yours!”
Cayrol smiled conceitedly, and went away. Marechal sat down at his desk, and took out a sheet of paper.
“I must tell Pierre that everything is going on well here,” he murmured. “If he knew what was taking place he would soon be back, and might be guilty of some foolery or other.” So he commenced writing.
BOOK 4.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE UNIVERSAL CREDIT COMPANY
The banking-house of Cayrol had not a very imposing appearance. It was a narrow two-storied building, the front blackened by time. There was a carriage gateway, on the right-hand side of which was the entrance to the offices. The stairs leading to the first floor were covered by a well-worn carpet. Here was a long corridor into which the different offices opened. On their glass doors might be read: “Payments of dividends.” “Accounts.” “Foreign correspondence.” “General office.” Cayrol’s own room was quite at the end, and communicated with his private apartments. Everything breathed of simplicity and honesty. Cayrol had never tried to throw dust into people’s eyes. He had started modestly when opening the bank; his business had increased, but his habits had remained the same. It was not a difficult matter to obtain an interview, even by people not known to him. They sent in their cards, and were admitted to his sanctum.
It was amid the coming and going of customers and clerks that Prince Panine came the following day to find Cayrol. For the first time Serge had put himself out for the banker. He was introduced with marks of the most profound respect. The great name of Desvarennes seemed to cast a kind of halo round his head in the eyes of the clerks.
Cayrol, a little embarrassed, but still resolute, went toward him. Serge seemed nervous and somewhat abrupt in manner. He foresaw some difficulty.
“Well! my dear fellow,” he said, without sitting down. “What are you up to? I have waited since yesterday for the money you promised me.”
Cayrol scratched his ear, and felt taken aback by this plain speaking.
“The fact is—” stammered he.
“Have you forgotten your engagement?” asked Serge, frowning.
“No,” replied Cayrol, speaking slowly, “but I met Madame Desvarennes yesterday.”
“And what had that to do with your intentions?”
“Zounds! It had everything to do with them. Your mother-in-law made a scene, and forbade my lending you any money. You must understand, my dear Prince, that my relations with Madame Desvarennes are important. I hold a great deal of money of hers in my bank. She first gave me a start. I cannot, without appearing ungrateful, act contrary to her will. Place yourself in my position, and judge impartially of the terrible alternative between obliging you and displeasing my benefactress.”
“Don’t cry; it is useless,” said Serge, with a scornful laugh. “I sympathize with your troubles. You side with the money-bags. It remains to be seen whether you will gain by it.”
“My dear Prince, I swear to you that I am in despair,” cried Cayrol, annoyed at the turn the interview was taking. “Listen; be reasonable! I don’t know what you have done to your mother-in-law, but she seems much vexed with you. In your place I would rather make a few advances than remain hostile toward Madame Desvarennes. That would mend matters, you see. Flies are not to be caught with vinegar.”
Serge looked contemptuously at Cayrol, and put on his hat with supreme insolence.
“Pardon me, my dear fellow; as a banker you are excellent when you have any money to spare, but as a moralist you are highly ridiculous.”
And, turning on his heel, he quitted the office, leaving Cayrol quite abashed. He passed along the corridor switching his cane with suppressed rage. Madame Desvarennes had, with one word, dried up the source from which he had been drawing most of the money which he had spent during the last three months. He had to pay a large sum that evening at the club, and he did not care to apply to the money-lenders of Paris.
He went down the stairs wondering how he would get out of this scrape! Go to Madame Desvarennes and humble himself as Cayrol advised? Never! He regretted, for a moment, the follies which had led him into this difficulty. He ought to have been able to live on two hundred thousand francs a year! He had squandered money foolishly, and now the inexhaustible well from which he had drawn his treasure was closed by an invincible will.
He was crossing the gateway, when a well-known voice struck his ear, and he turned round. Herzog, smiling in his enigmatical manner, was before him. Serge bowed, and wanted to pass on, but the financier put his hand on his arm, saying:
“What a hurry you are in, Prince. I suppose your pocketbook is full of notes, and you are afraid of being plundered.”
And with his finger, Herzog touched the silver mounted pocketbook, the corner of which was peeping out of the Prince’s pocket. Panine could not control a gesture of vexation, which made the financier smile.
“Am I wrong?” asked Herzog. “Can our friend Cayrol have refused your request? By-the-bye, did you not quarrel with Madame Desvarennes yesterday? Whoever was it told me that? Your mother-in-law spoke of cutting off all your credit, and from your downcast look I guess that fool Cayrol has obeyed the orders he has received.”
Serge, exasperated and stamping with rage, wanted to speak, but it was no easy matter interrupting Herzog. Besides, there was something in the latter’s look which annoyed Serge. His glance seemed to be fathoming the depths of Panine’s pockets, and the latter instinctively tightened his arms across his chest, so that Herzog might not see that his pocketbook was empty.
“What are you talking about?” asked Serge, at last, with a constrained smile.
“About things which must greatly interest you,” said Herzog, familiarly. “Come, be sincere. Cayrol has just refused you a sum of money. He’s a simpleton! How much do you want? Will a hundred thousand francs do just now?”
And writing a few words on a check, the financier handed it to Serge, adding:
“A man of your position should not be in any difficulty for such a paltry sum!”
“But, sir,” said Serge, astonished, and pushing away Herzog’s hand.
“Accept it, and don’t feel indebted to me. It is hardly worth while between you and me.”
And taking Panine’s arm Herzog walked on with him.
“Your carriage is there? all right, mine will follow. I want to talk to you. Your troubles cannot last. I will show you the means of extricating yourself and that without delay, my dear sir.”
And without consulting Panine he seated himself beside him in the carriage.
“I told you once, if you remember,” continued the financier, “that I might prove useful to you. You were haughty, and I did not insist; yet you see the day has come. Let me speak frankly with you. It is my usual manner, and there is some good in it.”
“Speak,” answered Serge, rather puzzled.
“You find yourself at this moment, vulgarly speaking, left in the lurch. Your wants are many and your resources few.”
“At least—” protested Serge.
“Good! There you are refractory,” said the financier, laughingly, “and I have not finished. The day after your marriage you formed your household on a lavish footing; you gave splendid receptions; you bought race-horses; in short, you went the pace like a great lord. Undoubtedly it costs a lot of money to keep up such an establishment. As you spent without counting the cost, you confounded the capital with the interest, so that at this moment you are three parts ruined. I don’t think you would care to change your mode of living, and it is too late in the day to cut down expenses and exist on what remains? No. Well, to keep up your present style you need at least a million francs every year.”
“You calculate like Cocker,” remarked Serge, smiling with some constraint.
“That is my business,” answered Herzog. “There are two ways by which you can obtain that million. The first is by making it up with your mother-in-law, and consenting, for money, to live under her dominion. I know her, she will agree to this.”
“But,” said Serge, “I refuse to submit.”
“In that case you must get out of your difficulties alone.”
“And how?” inquired the Prince, with astonishment.
Herzog looked at him seriously.
“By entering on the path which I am ready to open up to you,” replied Herzog, “and in which I will guide you. By going in for business.”
Serge returned Herzog’s glance and tried to read his face, but found him impenetrable.
“To go into business one needs experience, and I have none.”
“Mine will suffice,” retorted the financier.
“Or money,” continued the Prince, “and I have none, either.”
“I don’t ask money from you. I offer you some.”
“What, then, do I bring into the concern?”
“The prestige of your name, and your relations with Madame Desvarennes.”
The Prince answered, haughtily:
“My relations are personal, and I doubt whether they will serve you. My mother-in-law is hostile, and will do nothing for me. As to my name, it does not belong to me, it belongs to those who bore it nobly before me.”
“Your relations will serve me,” said Herzog. “I am satisfied. Your mother-in-law cannot get out of your being her daughter’s husband, and for that you are worth your weight in gold. As to your name, it is just because it has been nobly borne that it is valuable. Thank your ancestors, therefore, and make the best of the only heritage they left you. Besides, if you care to examine things closely, your ancestors will not have reason to tremble in their graves. What did they do formerly? They imposed taxes on their vassals and extorted money from the vanquished. We financiers do the same. Our vanquished are the speculators; our vassals the shareholders. And what a superiority there is about our proceedings! There is no violence. We persuade; we fascinate; and the money flows into our coffers. What do I say? They beseech us to take it. We reign without contest. We are princes, too princes of finance. We have founded an aristocracy as proud and as powerful as the old one. Feudality of nobility no longer exists; it has given way to that of money.”
Serge laughed. He saw what Herzog was driving at.
“Your great barons of finance are sometimes subject to executions,” said he.
“Were not Chalais, Cinq-Mars, Biron, and Montmorency executed?” asked Herzog, with irony.
“That was on a scaffold,” replied Panine.
“Well! the speculator’s scaffold is the Bourse! But only small dabblers in money succumb; the great ones are safe from danger. They are supported in their undertakings by such powerful and numerous interests that they cannot fail without involving public credit; even governments are forced to come to their aid. One of these powerful and indestructible enterprises I have dreamed of grafting on to the European Credit Company, the Universal Credit Company. Its very name is a programme in itself. To stretch over the four quarters of the globe like an immense net, and draw into its meshes all financial speculators: such is its aim. Nobody will be able to withstand us. I am offering you great things, but I dream of still greater. I have ideas. You will see them developed, and will profit by them, if you join my fortunes. You are ambitious, Prince. I guessed it; but your ambition hitherto has been satisfied with small things—luxurious indulgences and triumphs of elegance! What are these worth to what I can give you? The sphere in which you move is narrow. I will make it immense. You will no longer reign over a small social circle, you will rule a world.”
Serge, more affected than he cared to show, tried to banter.
“Are you repeating the prologue to Faust?” asked he. “Where is your magical compact? Must I sign it?”
“Not at all. Your consent is sufficient. Look into the business, study it at your leisure, and measure the results; and then if it suit you, you can sign a deed of partnership. Then in a few years you may possess a fortune surpassing all that you have dreamed of.”
The financier remained silent. Serge was weighing the question. Herzog was happy; he had shown himself to all Paris in company with Madame Desvarennes’s son-in-law. He had already realized one of his projects. The carriage was just passing down the Champs Elysees. The weather was lovely, and in the distance could be seen the trees of the Tuileries and the different monuments of the Place de la Concorde bathed in blue mist. Groups of horsemen were cantering along the side avenues. Long files of carriages were rolling rapidly by with well-dressed ladies. The capital displayed at that hour all the splendor of its luxury. It was Paris in all its strength and gayety.
Herzog stretched out his hand, and calling the Prince’s attention to the sight, said:
“There’s your empire!”
Then, looking at him earnestly, he asked:
“Is it agreed?”
Serge hesitated for a moment, and then bowed his head, saying:
“It is agreed.”
Herzog pulled the check-string communicating with the coachman and alighted.
“Good-by,” said he to Panine.
He slipped into his own carriage, which had followed closely behind, and drove off.
From that day, even Jeanne had a rival. The fever of speculation had seized on Serge; he had placed his little finger within the wheels and he must follow—body, name, and soul. The power which this new game exercised over him was incredible. It was quite different to the stupid games at the club, always the same. On the Bourse, everything was new, unexpected, sudden, and formidable. The intensity of the feelings were increased a hundredfold, owing to the importance of the sums risked.
It was really a splendid sight to see Herzog manipulating matters, maneuvering with a miraculous dexterity millions of francs. And then the field for operations was large. Politics, the interests of nations, were the mainsprings which impelled the play, and the game assumed diplomatic vastness and financial grandeur.
From his private office Herzog issued orders, and whether his ability was really extraordinary, or whether fortune exceptionally favored him, success was certain. Serge, from the first week, realized considerable sums. This brilliant success threw him in a state of great excitement. He believed everything that Herzog said to him as if it were gospel. He saw the world bending under the yoke which he was about to impose upon it. People working and toiling every day were doing so for him alone, and like one of those kings who had conquered the world, he pictured all the treasures of the earth laid at his feet. From that time he lost the sense of right and wrong. He admitted the unlikely, and found the impossible quite natural. He was a docile tool in the hands of Herzog.
The rumor of this unforeseen change in Panine’s circumstances soon reached Madame Desvarennes’s ears. The mistress was frightened, and sent for Cayrol, begging him to remain a director of the European Credit, in order to watch the progress of the new affair. With her practical common sense, she foresaw disasters, and even regretted that Serge had not confined himself to cards and reckless living.
Cayrol was most uneasy, and made a confidant of his wife, who, deeply troubled, told Panine the fears his friends entertained on his account. The Prince smiled disdainfully, saying these fears were the effect of plebeian timidity. The mistress understood nothing of great speculations, and Cayrol was a narrow-minded banker! He knew what he was doing. The results of his speculations were mathematical. So far they had not disappointed his hopes. The great Universal Credit Company, of which he was going to be a director, would bring him in such an immense fortune that he would be independent of Madame Desvarennes.
Jeanne, terrified at this blind confidence, tried to persuade him. Serge took her in his arms, kissed her, and banished her fears.
Madame Desvarennes had forbidden her people to tell Micheline anything of what was going on, as she wished her to remain in perfect ignorance. By a word, the mistress, if she could not have prevented the follies of which Serge was guilty, could, at least, have spared herself and her daughter. It would have only been necessary to reveal his behavior and betrayal to Micheline, and to provoke a separation. If the house of Desvarennes were no longer security for Panine, his credit would fall. Disowned by his mother-in-law, and publicly given up by her, he would be of no use to Herzog, and would be promptly thrown over by him. The mistress did not wish her daughter to know the heartrending truth. She would not willingly cause her to shed tears, and therefore preferred risking ruin.
Micheline, too, tried to hide her troubles from her mother. She knew too well that Serge would have the worst of it if he got into her black books. With the incredible persistence of a loving heart, she hoped to win back Serge. Thus a terrible misunderstanding caused these two women to remain inactive and silent, when, by united efforts, they might, perhaps, have prevented dangers.
The great speculation was already being talked about. Herzog was boldly placing his foot on the summit whereon the five or six demigods, who ruled the stock market, were firmly placed. The audacious encroachments of this newcomer had vexed these formidable potentates, and already they had decided secretly his downfall because he would not let them share in his profits.
One morning, the Parisians, on awakening, found the walls placarded with notices advertising the issue of shares in the Universal Credit Company, and announcing the names of the directors, among which appeared that of the Prince. Some were members of the Legion d’Honneur; others recent members of the Cabinet Council, and Prefets retired into private life. A list of names to dazzle the public, but all having a weak point.
This created a great sensation in the business world. Madame Desvarennes’s son-in-law was on the board. It was a good speculation, then? People consulted the mistress, who found herself somewhat in a dilemma; either she must disown her son-in-law, or speak well of the affair. Still she did not hesitate, for she was loyal and honest above all things. She declared the speculation was a poor one, and did all she could to prevent any of her friends becoming shareholders.
The issue of shares was disastrous. The great banks remained hostile, and capitalists were mistrustful. Herzog landed a few million francs. Doorkeepers and cooks brought him their savings. He covered expenses. But it was no use advertising and puffing in the newspapers, as a word had gone forth which paralyzed the speculation. Ugly rumors were afloat. Herzog’s German origin was made use of by the bankers, who whispered that the aim of the Universal Credit Company was exclusively political. It was to establish branch banks in every part of the world to further the interests of German industry. Further, at a given moment, Germany might have need of a loan in case of war, and the Universal Credit Company would be there to supply the necessary aid to the great military nation.
Herzog was not a man to be put down without resisting, and he made supreme efforts to float his undertaking. He caused a number of unissued shares to be sold on ‘Change, and had them bought up by his own men, thus creating a fictitious interest in the company. In a few days the shares rose and were at a premium, simply through the jobbery to which Herzog lent himself.
Panine was little disposed to seek for explanations, and, besides, had such unbounded faith in his partner that he suspected nothing. He remained in perfect tranquillity. He had increased his expenditure, and his household was on a royal footing. Micheline’s sweetness emboldened him; he no longer took the trouble of dissimulating, and treated his young wife with perfect indifference.
Jeanne and Serge met every day at the little house in the Avenue Maillot. Cayrol was too much engaged with the new anxieties which Herzog caused him, to look after his wife, and left her quite free to amuse herself. Besides, he had not the least suspicion. Jeanne, like all guilty women, overwhelmed him with kind attentions, which the good man mistook for proofs of love. The fatal passion was growing daily stronger in the young woman’s heart, and she would have found it impossible to have given up her dishonorable happiness with Panine. She felt herself capable of doing anything to preserve her lover.
Jeanne had already said, “Oh! if we were but free!” And they formed projects. They would go away to Lake Lugano, and, in a villa hidden by trees and shrubs, would enjoy the pleasures of being indissolubly united. The woman was more eager than the man in giving way to these visions of happiness. She sometimes said, “What hinders us now? Let us go.” But Serge, prudent and discreet, even in the most affectionate moments, led Jeanne to take a more sensible view. What was the use of a scandal? Did they not belong to each other?
Then the young woman reproached him for not loving her as much as she loved him. She was tired of dissimulating; her husband was an object of horror to her, and she had to tell him untruths and submit to his caresses which were revolting to her. Serge calmed her with a kiss, and bade her wait awhile.
Pierre, rendered anxious on hearing that Serge had joined Herzog in his dangerous financial speculations, had left his mines and had just arrived. The letters which Micheline addressed to the friend of her youth, her enforced confidant in trouble, were calm and resigned. Full of pride, she had carefully hidden from Pierre the cause of her troubles. He was the last person by whom she would like to be pitied, and her letters had represented Serge as repentant and full of good feeling. Marechal, for similar reasons, had kept his friend in the dark. He feared Pierre’s interference, and he wished to spare Madame Desvarennes the grief of seeing her adopted son quarreling with her son-in-law.
But the placards announcing the establishment of the Universal Credit Company made their way into the provinces, and one morning Pierre found some stuck on the walls of his establishment. Seeing the name of Panine, and not that of Cayrol, Pierre shuddered. The unpleasant ideas which he experienced formerly when Herzog was introduced to the Desvarennes recurred to his mind. He wrote to the mistress to ask what was going on, and not receiving an answer, he started off without hesitation for Paris.
He found Madame Desvarennes in a terrible state of excitement. The shares had just fallen a hundred and twenty francs. A panic had ensued. The affair was considered as absolutely lost, and the shareholders were aggravating matters by wanting to sell out at once.
Savinien was just coming away from the mistress’s room. He wanted to see the downfall of the Prince, whom he had always hated, looking upon him as a usurper of his own rights upon the fortune of the Desvarennes. He began lamenting to his aunt, when she turned upon him with unusual harshness, and he felt bound as he said, laughing, to leave the “funereal mansion.”
Cayrol, as much interested in the affairs of the Prince as if they were his own, went backward and forward between the Rue Saint-Dominique and the Rue Taitbout, pale and troubled, but without losing his head. He had already saved the European Credit Company by separating it six weeks before from the Universal Credit Company, notwithstanding Madame Desvarennes’s supplications to keep them together, in the hope that the one would save the other. But Cayrol, practical, clear, and implacable, had refused, for the first time, to obey Madame Desvarennes. He acted with the resolution of a captain of a vessel, who throws overboard a portion of the cargo to save the ship, the crew, and the rest of the merchandise. He did well, and the European Credit was safe. The shares had fallen a little, but a favorable reaction was already showing itself. The name of Cayrol, and his presence at the head of affairs, had reassured the public, and the shareholders gathered round him, passing a vote of confidence.
The banker, devoted to his task, next sought to save Panine, who was at that very moment robbing him of his honor and happiness in the house of the Avenue Maillot.
Pierre, Cayrol, and Madame Desvarennes met in Marechal’s private office. Pierre declared that it was imperative to take strong measures and to speak to the Prince. It was the duty of the mistress to enlighten Panine, who was no doubt Herzog’s dupe.
Madame Desvarennes shook her head sadly. She feared that Serge was not a dupe but an accomplice. And what could she tell him? Let him ruin himself! He would not believe her. She knew how he received her advice and bore her remonstrances.
An explanation between her and Serge was impossible, and her interference would only hurry him into the abyss.
“Well, then, I will speak to him,” said Pierre, resolutely.
“No,” said Madame Desvarennes, “not you! Only one here can tell him efficaciously what he must hear, and that is Cayrol. Let us above all things keep guard over our words and our behavior. On no account must Micheline suspect anything.”
Thus, at the most solemn moments, when fortune and honor, perhaps, were compromised, the mother thought of her daughter’s welfare and happiness.
Cayrol went up to the Prince’s rooms. He had just come in, and was opening his letters, while having a cigarette in the smoking-room. A door, covered by curtains, led to a back stair which opened into the courtyard. Cayrol had gone up that way, feeling sure that by so doing he would not meet Micheline.
On seeing Jeanne’s husband, Serge rose quickly. He feared that Cayrol had discovered everything, and instinctively stepped backward. The banker’s manner soon undeceived him. He was serious, but not in a rage. He had evidently come on business.
“Well, my dear Cayrol,” said the Prince, gayly, “what good fortune has brought you here?”
“If it is fortune, it is certainly not good fortune,” answered the banker, gravely. “I wish to have some talk with you, and I shall be grateful if you will listen patiently.”
“Oh! oh!” said Serge. “How serious you are. You have some heavy payments on hand, and want a little help, eh? I will speak to Herzog.”
Cayrol looked at the Prince in amazement. So he did not suspect anything? Such carelessness and negligence frightened him. The banker resolved to proceed clearly, and without beating about the bush; to do away with such blind confidence a thunderbolt was necessary.
“I have not come about my business, but yours,” returned Cayrol. “The Universal Credit Company is on the eve of disaster; there is still time for you to withdraw safely and soundly from the sinking wreck. I bring you the means.”
Serge laughed.
“Thank you, Cayrol; you are very kind, my friend. I know your intentions are good, but I don’t believe a word you are saying. You have come from Madame Desvarennes. You are both agreed that I shall give up the Universal Credit, but I will not yield to any pressure. I know what I am doing. Be easy.”
And quietly lighting another cigarette, he gracefully puffed the smoke toward the ceiling. Cayrol did not trouble to argue, but took a newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Panine, simply saying, “Read!”
It was an article in a reliable financial paper prophesying the failure of the Universal Credit Company, and basing its statements on irrefutable calculations. Serge took the paper and looked over it. He turned pale and crushed it in his hand.
“What infamy!” cried he. “I know our adversaries are enraged. Yes, they know that our new company is destined to crush them in the future, and they are doing all they can to run us aground. Jealousy! Envy! There is no other foundation for these rumors, and they are unworthy a serious man’s attention.”
“There is neither envy nor jealousy. All is true,” said Cayrol. “You will admit that I am your sincere friend? Well, I swear to you that the situation is terrible, and you must resign your directorship of the Universal Credit without loss of time. There’s not a moment to lose. Sit down and write your resignation.”
“Do you think I am a child to be led by the nose like that?” asked the Prince, in a passion. “If you are sincere, Cayrol, as I wish to believe, I also think you are a fool. You don’t understand! As to drawing out of the company, never! I have a lot of money invested in it.”
“Well, lose your money, Madame Desvarennes will pay you back. At least you can save your name.”
“Ah, I see you are conniving with her!” exclaimed the Prince, loudly. “Don’t tell me another word, I don’t believe you. I shall go straight to the office, and I will speak to Herzog. We will take measures to prosecute the papers for libel if they dare to publish these untruths.”
Cayrol saw that nothing would convince Panine. He hoped that an interview with Herzog would enlighten him. He left the matter to chance, as reasoning was of no avail, and went down to the mistress.
Serge drove to the Universal Credit Company. It was the first day in the new offices. Herzog had furnished them splendidly, thinking that this would give the shareholders a high opinion of the undertaking. How could they have any doubts when they saw such splendid furniture and large offices? How could they refuse to place their money in the hands of speculators that could cover their floors with such soft carpets? The porters, with their dark blue and red cloth liveries, and buttons with the company’s monogram on them, answered inquiries with haughty condescension. Everything foretold success. It was in the air. You could hear the cashier shovelling heaps of gold. The people who had placed the Universal Credit Company on such a footing were either very powerful or very impudent.
Serge walked in, as he would have done at home, with his hat on, amid a number of small shareholders, who had come full of anxiety after reading the accounts in the newspapers, and who felt full of confidence after seeing the splendor of the place. Panine reached Herzog’s office, but when about to open the door, loud voices struck his ear. The financier was arguing with a director, and Panine listened.
“The speculation is safe and sure,” Herzog was saying. “The shares are low, I know, because I have ceased to keep them up. I have given orders in London, Vienna, and Berlin, and we are buying up all shares that are offered in the market. I shall then run the shares up again, and we shall realize an enormous sum. It is most simple.”
“But it is shady,” said the other voice.
“Why? I defend myself as I am attacked. The great banks seek to deteriorate my stock. I buy in, and take it out of my adversaries. Is it not just and lawful?”
Panine breathed freely and felt reassured. The depreciation was caused by Herzog; he had just said so. There was nothing to fear then. It was just a trick of Herzog’s, and the company would come out brighter than ever.
Serge went in.
“Oh! here’s Prince Panine,” said Herzog. “Ask him what he thinks of the matter. I defer to his judgment.”
“I don’t want to know anything,” said Serge. “I have full confidence in you, my dear manager, and our business will prosper in your hands, I am sure. Besides, I know the manoeuvres of our opponents, and I think every financial means justifiable to answer them.”
“Ah! What did I say to you a few minutes ago?” cried Herzog, addressing his questioner in a tone of triumph. “Let me act and you will see. Besides, I don’t want to keep you against your will,” he added, harshly. “You are at liberty to withdraw from us if you like.”
The other protested that what he had said was for the best interests of all concerned. He did not dream of leaving the company; on the contrary, they might rely on him. He appreciated the experience and ability of Herzog too well to separate his fortune from his friend’s. And, shaking hands with the financier, he took his leave.
“Come! What is all this clamor in the newspapers?” asked Serge, when he found himself alone with Herzog. “Do you know that the articles published are very perfidious?”
“All the more perfidious because they are founded on truth,” said the financier, coldly.
“What do you mean?” cried Serge, in alarm.
“The truth. Do you think I am to tell you lies as I did to that idiot who has just gone out? The Universal Credit has at this moment a screw loose. But patience! I have an idea, and in a fortnight the shares will have doubled in value. I have a splendid scheme in hand which will kill the gas companies. It is a plan for lighting by magnesium. Its effect will be startling. I shall publish sensational articles describing the invention in the London and Brussels papers. Gas shares will fall very low. I shall buy up all I can, and when I am master of the situation, I shall announce that the threatened gas companies are buying up the invention. Shares will rise again, and I shall realize a goodly sum, which will be for the benefit of the Universal Credit.”
“But for such a formidable speculation foreign agents will require security?”
“I will offer it to them. I have here ten million francs’ worth of shares in the European Credit belonging to Cayrol. We will give the cashier a joint receipt for them. The speculation will last three days. It is safe, and when the result is achieved we will replace the shares, and take back the receipt.”
“But,” asked Serge, “is this plan of taking the shares which don’t belong to us legal?”
“It is a transfer,” said Herzog, with simplicity. “Besides, don’t forget that we have to do with Cayrol, that is to say with a partner.”
“Suppose we tell him of it,” insisted the Prince.
“No! The deuce! We should have to explain everything to him. He knows what’s what, and would find the idea too good, and want a share of the spoil. No! Sign that, and don’t be alarmed. The sheep will be back in the fold before the shepherd comes to count them.”
A dark presentiment crossed Serge’s mind, and he was afraid. At that moment, when his fate was being decided, he hesitated to go deeper into the rut where he had already been walking too long. He stood silent and undecided. Confused thoughts crowded his brain; his temples throbbed, and a buzzing noise sounded in his ears. But the thought of giving up his liberty, and again subjecting himself to Madame Desvarennes’s protection was like the lash of a whip, and he blushed for having hesitated.
Herzog looked at him, and, smiling in a constrained way, said:
“You, too, may give up the affair if you like. If I share it with you it is because you are so closely allied to me. I don’t so very much care to cut the pear in two. Don’t think that I am begging of you to be my partner! Do as you like.”
Serge caught hold of the paper and, having signed it, handed it to the financier.
“All right,” said Herzog. “I shall leave to-night and be absent three days. Watch the money market. You will see the results of my calculations.”
And shaking hands with the Prince, Herzog went to the cashier to get the scrip and deposit the receipt.