Despite Cardonnet's efforts to concentrate his thoughts upon the interests of his family, he was disturbed and distracted at every turn by his anxiety concerning his pecuniary interests. "Infernal river," he thought, glaring involuntarily at the torrent that flowed proudly and mockingly at his feet, "when will you abandon an impossible fight? I shall find a way to chain you up and curb you at last. More stone, more iron, and you will flow within the bounds that my hand marks out for you. Oh! I shall succeed in overcoming your reckless power, in anticipating your whims, in stimulating your languor and crushing your temper. The genius of man is bound to triumph over the blind rebellion of nature on this spot. Twenty more men, and you will feel the curb. Money, and more money! It takes a small mountain of money to stop mountains of water. It is all a question of time and opportunity. My product must come to hand on the appointed day, to meet my expenses. A month of carelessness or discouragement would ruin everything. Credit is a pit that one must dig without hesitation, because at the bottom lies the treasure of profit. I must dig on! I must keep digging! The man is a fool and a coward who stops on the way and allows his plans and his outlay to be swallowed up in space. No, no, treacherous stream, feminine terror, lying predictions of the envious, you shall not frighten me, you shall not induce me to abandon my work, when I have made so many sacrifices on account of it, when the sweat of so many men has already flowed in vain, when my brain has already expended so much effort and my intelligence has given birth to so many miracles! Either this stream shall draw my dead body into its slime, or it shall submissively carry the results of my toil!" And in the painful tension of his faculties, Monsieur Cardonnet stamped his foot on the bank with a sort of frenzied enthusiasm.