And it was at this same period, a fortnight after the Exhibition opened, that Saccard inaugurated the monumental pile in which he had insisted upon lodging the Universal. Six months had sufficed to erect it; workmen had toiled day and night without losing an hour, performing a miracle which is only possible in Paris; and a superb façade was now displayed, rich in flowery ornamentation, suggestive in some respects of a temple, in others of a music hall--a façade of such a luxurious aspect that passers-by stopped short in groups to gaze upon it. And within all was sumptuous; the millions in the coffers seemed to have streamed along the walls. A grand staircase led to the board-room, which was all purple and gold, as splendid as the auditorium of an opera house. On every side you found carpets and hangings, offices fitted up with a dazzling wealth of furniture. Fastened in the walls of the basement, where the share offices were installed, were huge safes, with deep oven-like mouths, and transparent glass partitions enabled the public to perceive them, ranged there like the barrels of gold that figure in the folk-tales, and in which slumber the incalculable treasures of the fairies. And the nations with their kings on their way to the Exhibition would be able to come and view them, for all was ready, the new building awaited them, to dazzle them, catch them one by one, like an irresistible golden trap scintillating in the sunlight. Saccard was enthroned in a most sumptuously adorned office with Louis Quatorze furniture of Genoa velvet and gilded woodwork. The staff had again been increased; it exceeded four hundred employees; so now it was quite an army that Saccard commanded with the pomp of a tyrant who is both adored and obeyed, for he was very open-handed in the matter of presents and gratuities. And, despite his mere title of manager, it was he in reality who reigned, above the chairman of the board, above the board itself, which simply ratified his orders. Madame Caroline was consequently ever on the alert, busy in finding out his decisions, to try and thwart them if she thought it necessary. She disapproved of this new, unduly magnificent establishment, though she could not blame it in principle, having recognised the necessity of having larger quarters in the fine days when she had been all confidence, and had joked her brother for growing anxious. The argument she now used in combating all this luxury was that the Bank lost its aspect of honest modesty, of deep religious gravity. What would the customers, accustomed to the monkish solemnity, the discreet half-light prevailing on the ground floor of the Rue Saint Lazare, think on entering this palace in the Rue de Londres, with its lofty storeys enlivened with sound and flooded with light? Saccard answered that they would be overwhelmed with admiration and respect, that those who brought five francs would take ten from their pockets, swayed by self-pride and intoxicated with confidence.