Banks and banking -- France -- History -- 19th -- Fiction
How bitterly he must now regret the laborious days of former times,
when he had still believed in the acquirement of fortune by prolonged
effort, before a first chance gain had filled him with contempt for
work, consumed him with the dream of gaining in an hour, at the Bourse,
the million which requires the whole lifetime of an honest merchant!
And the Bourse had swept everything away--the unfortunate man remained
overwhelmed, fallen from his brilliant position, incapable of resuming
business and disqualified from doing so, with a son, too, whom poverty
might perhaps turn into a swindler--that Gustave, the soul of joy and
festivity, who was living on a footing of from forty to fifty thousand
francs worth of debts and was already compromised in an ugly story of
some promissory notes signed in favour of a woman.
Then there was another poor devil who distressed Madame Caroline, the
_remisier_ Massias, and yet God knew that she was not usually tender
towards those go-betweens of falsehood and theft! Only she had known
Massias also, known him with his large, laughing eyes and the air of
a good dog who has been whipped, at the time when he was scouring
Paris seeking to obtain a few small orders. If, for a moment, in his
turn, he had at last believed himself to be one of the masters of the
market, having conquered luck in Saccard's wake, how frightful had been
the fall which had awakened him from his dream! He had found himself
owing seventy thousand francs, which he had paid, when, as so many
others did, he might have pleaded that the matter was one of gambling,
and that payment therefore could not be legally enforced. However, by
borrowing from friends, and pledging his entire life, he had committed
that sublime and useless stupidity of paying--useless, since no one
felt the better of him for it; indeed, folks even shrugged their
shoulders behind his back. His resentment, however, was only directed
against the Bourse, for he had relapsed into his disgust for the dirty
calling which he plied, and again shouted that one must be a Jew to
succeed in it. Nevertheless, as he was in it, he resigned himself,
still hoping that he might yet win the big prize provided he had a keen
eye and good legs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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