Complete Works of Emile Zola (1104 page)

‘In short, monsieur,’ continued the Countess, ‘I have decided upon a thing which has hitherto been repugnant to me. Yes, the idea of making money work, of putting it out at interest, had never entered my head. Mine are the old ways of viewing life, scruples that are becoming a little stupid, I know; but what would you have? One cannot easily throw off the ideas acquired in childhood, and I imagined that land alone, extensive estates, ought to support people like ourselves. Unfortunately, large estates—’

She blushed slightly, for she was coming to the confession of the ruin which she had so carefully concealed. ‘Large estates can now scarcely be found in France; we have been sorely tried, and now we have but one farm left.’

Thereupon Saccard, to spare her further embarrassment, began blazing away. ‘But nowadays, madame, no one lives on land. The landed fortune of olden times is an out-of-date form of wealth, which has ceased to have its raison d’être. It was the very stagnation of

money, the value of which we have increased tenfold by throwing it into circulation, and by inventing paper money, and securities of all sorts, commercial and financial. It is by this means that the world is to be renewed, for nothing would be possible — neither the applications of science nor the final universal peace — without money, liquid money which flows and penetrates everywhere. Oh! landed wealth! it has gone to keep company with the old stage-coaches. With a million in land a man dies; whereas with a fourth of that capital invested in good enterprises at fifteen, twenty, and even thirty per cent, he lives.’

Gently, and with infinite sadness, the Countess shook her head. ‘I scarcely understand you, and, as I have told you, I am a survivor of an epoch in which these things were feared, as things wicked and forbidden. However, I am not alone; above all, I must think of my daughter. In the last few years I have succeeded in laying aside, oh! a little sum—’

Her blush appeared again.

‘Twenty thousand francs, which lie idle at home in a drawer. Later on perhaps I might feel remorseful at having left them thus unproductive; and since your enterprise has a good object, as my friend has confided to me, and since you are going to labour for what we all wish, and wish most ardently, I will make the venture. In short, I shall be grateful to you if you can reserve for me some shares in your bank, say to the amount of ten or twelve thousand francs. I wanted my daughter to accompany me, for I will not conceal from you that this money is hers.’

So far Alice had not opened her mouth, but had kept quite in the background, in spite of her look of keen intelligence. Now, however, she made a gesture of loving reproach. Oh, mine, mamma! Have I anything that is not yours?’

‘And your marriage, my child?’

‘But you know very well that I do not wish to marry.’

(She had said this too quickly; the chagrin of her solitude cried out in her shrill voice. Her mother silenced her with a distressful glance; and they looked at each other for a moment, unable to lie, compelled as they were to share each other’s daily sufferings and secrets.

Saccard was greatly moved. ‘Madame,’ said he, ‘even though there were no more shares left, I would, find some for you. Yes, if necessary, I will take them from my own. Your application touches me infinitely; I am highly honoured by your confidence.’ And at that moment he really believed that he was making the fortune of these unfortunates; he associated them for a share in the golden rain that was about to pour upon him and around him.

The ladies had risen and were retiring. Only at the door did the Countess venture on a direct allusion to the grand affair, which they did not speak of. ‘I have received,’ she said, ‘from my son Ferdinand, who is at Rome, a distressing letter respecting the sadness which the announcement of the withdrawal of our troops has produced there.’

‘Patience!’ declared Saccard, in a tone of conviction. ‘We are here to save everything.’

They exchanged profound bows, and he accompanied them to the landing, passing this time through the ante-room, which he fancied was empty. But, as he came back, he noticed, on a bench, a tall, withered fellow of fifty, clad like a working man in his Sunday best, and accompanied by a pretty girl of eighteen, slender and pale.

‘What! What do you want?’

The girl had risen first, and the man, intimidated by this abrupt reception, began to stammer a confused explanation.

‘I had given orders that everybody was to be sent away!’ added Saccard. ‘Why are you here? Tell me your name at least.’

‘Dejoie, monsieur, and I have come with my daughter Nathalie—’

Then he again became confused, so much so that Saccard in his impatience was about to push him to the door, when he finally understood that Madame Caroline had known the fellow for a long time and had told him to wait.

‘Ah! you are recommended by Madame Caroline! You should have said so at first. Come in, and make haste, for I am very hungry.’

On returning to his room, he allowed Dejoie and Nathalie to remain standing; nor did he even sit down himself, wishing to despatch them more quickly. Maxime, who had risen on the departure of the Countess, was no longer discreet enough to hold aloof, but scrutinised the new-comers with an air of curiosity. And Dejoie told his story at length.

‘This is how it is, monsieur. After I served my term in the army I was engaged as office-porter by M. Durieu, Madame Caroline’s late husband, when he was a brewer. Then I entered the employ of M. Lamberthier, the salesman at the Central Markets; after which I worked for M. Blaisot, a banker, whom you must have known. He blew his brains out two months ago, and so I am now out of work. I must tell you first of all that I had married. Yes, I married my wife, Josephine, when I was with M. Durieu, and when she was cook to Monsieur’s sister-in-law, Madame Levêque, whom Madame Caroline knew very well. Then, when I was with Monsieur Lamberthier, she could not get a situation there, but got suited at a doctor’s in Grenelle, Monsieur Renaudin. Then she went to the linen-draper’s shop, the Trois-Frères, in the Rue Rambuteau, where by ill-luck I could never get a situation—’

‘In short,’ interrupted Saccard, ‘you come to ask me for employment, don’t you?’

Dejoie, however, was determined to explain the great grief of his life, the ill-fortune which had led him to marry a cook with whose employers he had never succeeded in obtaining a situation. It was as if they had not been married, never having a home they could call their own, but having to meet at wine-shops, and kiss each other behind kitchen-doors. However, a daughter was born, Nathalie, whom he had been obliged to put out to nurse until she was eight years old, until indeed he was tired of living alone, and took her to join him in his little bachelor lodging. And in this wise he had become the little one’s real mother, bringing her up, taking her to school, watching ever her with infinite care, his heart overflowing the while with growing adoration.

‘Ah! I may certainly say, monsieur,’ he continued, ‘that she has given me satisfaction. She’s educated, and well behaved. And, as you can see yourself, she’s as nice-looking as can be.’

Indeed Saccard found this blonde flower of the Paris pavements quite charming with her slight graceful figure and large eyes shining from under quivering ringlets of light hair. She complacently allowed her father to admire her, virtuous as yet, having no reason to be otherwise, yet allowing a ferocious, quiet egotism to be seen in the limpid brilliancy of her eyes.

‘And so, monsieur,’ continued Dejoie, ‘she’s now of an age to marry, and a capital suitor has just come forward, the son of a pasteboard maker, our neighbour. But he wants to set up in business himself, and asks for six thousand francs. It isn’t much; he might expect a girl who would bring him more. I must tell you that I lost my wife four years ago and that she left us her savings, her little profits as a cook, you see. Well, I have four thousand francs, but that’s not six thousand, and the young man is in a hurry. Nathalie too—’

The girl, who stood listening, smiling, with a clear, cold decided look, here expressed assent with her chin. ‘Of course,’ said she, ‘I want to end the matter, one way or another.’

Saccard again interposed. He had already gauged the man — his intellect might be limited, but he was upright, had a kindly heart, and was accustomed to military discipline. Moreover, it sufficed that he had presented himself with Madame Caroline’s recommendation.

‘Very well, my friend,’ said the financier, ‘I am about to purchase a newspaper, and I will engage you as office attendant. Let me have your address, and now good-day.’

Dejoie did not take his departure, however, but with fresh embarrassment resumed: ‘It’s very kind of you, monsieur. I’ll accept the situation gratefully, for sure enough I shall have to work when I have arranged Nathalie’s matter. But I came for something else. Yes, I have heard through Madame Caroline and other people too, that you are about to start a big enterprise, monsieur, and will be able to place your friends and acquaintances in a position to make as much money as you may choose them to make. So if you would be kind enough, monsieur, to interest yourselves in us, if you would consent to let us have some of your shares—’

A second time was Saccard moved, more moved even than he had been on the first occasion when the Countess likewise had intrusted her daughter’s dowry to him. Did not this simple man, this microscopical capitalist, with savings scraped up copper by copper, personify the believing, truthful multitude, the great multitude that means abundant, substantial custom, the fanatical army that endows a financial establishment with invincible power? If this worthy fellow hurried to him in this fashion, before a single announcement had been made, a single advertisement issued, what would it be when the offices opened? He smiled with emotion upon this first little shareholder, in whose coming he beheld an omen of immense success.

‘Agreed, my friend, you shall have some shares,’ said he.

Dejoie’s face became radiant, as though some great unhopedfor favour had been promised him. ‘You are very kind, monsieur. And with my four thousand francs I shall be able, shan’t I? to gain two thousand more, in six months’ time or so, and then we can make up the amount we want. And since you consent, monsieur, I would rather settle the matter at once. I’ve brought the money.’

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out an envelope which he offered to Saccard, who stood there motionless, silent, struck with admiration at this final proof of confidence. And he, the terrible corsair, who had levied tribute on so many fortunes, ended by bursting into a hearty laugh, honestly resolved that he would enrich this trusting man as well as all the others.

‘But, my good fellow,’ he said, ‘things are not managed in that way. Keep your money. I will put your name down, and you will pay up at the proper time and place.’

Thereupon he finally dismissed them, after Dejoie had made Nathalie thank him, which she did with a smile of content lighting up her hard, yet candid eyes.

When Maxime at last found himself alone with his father he remarked with that insolently jeering air of his: ‘And so now you dower young girls?’

‘Why not?’ Saccard answered gaily. ‘It’s a good thing to invest in other people’s happiness.’ Then before leaving his room he turned to set some papers in order, and all at once exclaimed: ‘And you, by the way, don’t you want some shares?’

Maxime, who was slowly walking up and down, turned round with a start, and planted himself in front of his father. ‘Oh no, indeed! Do you take me to be a fool?’ he asked.

Saccard made an angry gesture, for he found the answer sadly disrespectful and witty. He was on the point of shouting that the affair was really a superb one, and that he, Maxime, credited him with little common sense if he imagined him to be a mere thief like others; but as he looked at the young fellow, a feeling of pity came over him for this poor boy of his, who at five and twenty was already exhausted, wornout, settled down, and even avaricious — so aged by vice, so anxious as to his health that he no longer ventured on any expenditure or enjoyment without carefully calculating the profits that might accrue to him. And thereupon, thoroughly consoled, quite proud of the passionate imprudence which he himself displayed at the age of fifty, he once more began laughing, and tapped his son on the shoulder: ‘Come, let’s go to breakfast, my poor youngster, and mind you are careful of your rheumatism.’

Two days later, October 5, Saccard, accompanied by Hamelin and Daigremont, repaired to the offices of Maître Lelorrain, notary, in the Rue Sainte Anne, and there executed the deed which established the joint stock company of the Universal Bank, with a capital of five and twenty millions of francs, divided into fifty thousand shares of five hundred francs each, a fourth part of the amount alone having to be paid on allotment. The offices of the company were fixed at the Orviedo mansion in the Rue St. Lazare, and a copy of the bye-laws, drawn up in accordance with the deed, was deposited at Maître Lelorrain’s office. Then, on leaving the notary’s, as it happened to be a very bright, sunny autumn day, the three gentlemen lighted cigars, and slowly sauntered homeward by way of the boulevard and the Rue de la Chaussée d’Antin, feeling well pleased with life, and as merry as boys escaped from school.

The initial general meeting was not held until the following week, in a hall in the Rue Blanche which had formerly been used for public balls, and in which a scheming individual was now endeavouring to start a fine art exhibition. The members of the syndicate had already disposed of those shares which they had taken, but did not wish to keep for themselves; and there came to the meeting one hundred and twenty-two shareholders, representing nearly forty thousand shares, which should have given a total of two thousand votes, since twenty shares were necessary to entitle one to sit and vote. However, as no one shareholder was allowed more than ten votes, whatever might be the amount of stock held by him, the exact total number of votes proved to be sixteen hundred and forty-three.

Saccard positively insisted upon Hamelin presiding. He himself had voluntarily disappeared among the crowd. He had put down the engineer’s name and his own for five hundred shares apiece, which were to be paid for, temporarily at all events, by a manipulation of accounts. All the members of the syndicate were present: Daigremont, Huret, Sédille, Kolb, and the Marquis de Bohain, each with the group of shareholders marching under his orders. Sabatani, one of the largest subscribers, was also noticed there, together with Jantrou, accompanied by several of the higher officials of the bank, who had entered upon their duties a couple of days previously. And all the decisions which had to be arrived at had been so well foreseen and settled beforehand, that never was there a shareholders’ meeting at which more splendid calmness, simplicity, and harmony were displayed. The sincerity of the declaration that the entire capital had been subscribed, and that one hundred and twenty-five francs per share had been paid on allotment, was endorsed by an unanimous vote; and then with all solemnity the company was declared to be established. Immediately afterwards came the appointment of the board of directors, which was to consist of twenty members, who, in addition to attendance fees, calculated at an annual total of fifty thousand francs, were, according to the bye-laws, to receive ten per cent upon the net profits.