Banks and banking -- France -- History -- 19th -- Fiction
At last the engineer yielded and was named chairman; and then the
vice-chairmanship was bestowed on an obscure agriculturist, the
Viscount de Robin-Chagot, formerly a Counsellor of State and a gentle
niggardly fellow, who would prove a first-rate signing machine. As for
the secretary, it was proposed that he should be selected not from
among the board members but from among the bank staff, and thereupon
the head of the issue department was chosen. Then, as dusk was falling
in the spacious, severe-looking room, a greeny dusk of infinite
sadness, the work accomplished was judged good and sufficient, and they
separated after fixing their meetings at two a month--the petty board
on the 15th, and the full board on the 30th.
Saccard and Hamelin went up together to the workroom, where Madame
Caroline was awaiting them. By her brother's embarrassment she clearly
realised that he had once more yielded through weakness; and for a
moment she was quite angry with him.
'But come now, this isn't reasonable!' exclaimed Saccard. 'Remember
that the chairman receives thirty thousand francs a year--which amount
will be doubled when our business shall have extended. You are not rich
enough to despise such an advantage. And besides, what is it that you
fear, tell me?'
'Why, I fear everything,' answered Madame Caroline. 'My brother won't
be here and I myself understand nothing about money matters. And about
those five hundred shares which you have put him down for, without
his paying for them at once, isn't that irregular? Would he not find
himself in trouble if the enterprise should come to grief?'
Saccard had begun laughing. 'A fine affair!' said he. 'Five hundred
shares, a first call of sixty-two thousand five hundred francs! Why, if
he won't be able to pay that out of his first profits before six months
are over our heads, we might just as well, all of us, throw ourselves
into the Seine at once, rather than take the trouble to launch anything
at all. No, you can be easy, speculation only devours fools.'
She retained her severity of demeanour in the growing darkness which
was filling the room. However, a couple of lamps were brought, and
a broad light then illumined the walls, the large plans, the bright
water-colours, which so often made her dream of the countries over
yonder. The plains were still barren, the mountains still barred the
horizon, and once more she conjured up a vision of the distressful
wretchedness of that old world asleep on its treasures, but which
science was going to reawaken in its filth and its ignorance. What
great and beautiful and good things there were to be accomplished!
Little by little, her vision showed her the generations of the future,
a stronger and happier humanity springing from the ancient soil which
progress would once more plough.
'Speculation, speculation!' she mechanically repeated, struggling with
her doubts. 'Ah! the idea of it fills my heart with disturbing anguish.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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