"Well, here is my idea!" Schleifmann said solemnly. "Where is M. Pums at this hour?" Uncle Cyprien consulted his watch. "Noon!... He must be at the Bourse." "Very good! I am going to see him.... I shall attempt to get him to have you carried over.... He is not a bad fellow.... At the time of my affair of the reforms, you remember, Cyprien, don't you, he was one of those who received me with the least roughness. Again, he left me his son as a pupil, his overdressed gummy son.... Well, I have some hopes.... What do you say?" "All right! If I am carried over!" Cyprien said skeptically. "Let me go down, then.... A cab, quick!... Huf! Huf!" Downstairs, Cyprien asked the concierge to take his "beast" back to the rue d'Assas, and the two old friends climbed into an open carriage. They were silent for a few minutes; then M. Raindal said with sarcasm. "The one time in my life that I have had anything to do with the Jews, you must admit, my dear Schleifmann, has brought me no luck!" "And M. de Meuze?" the Galician replied aggressively. "M. de Meuze who led you to this, is _he_ a Jew?" "No, that's true enough," Cyprien admitted. "He is not a Jew.... But he is Judaized, which comes to the same thing." "And I, a Jew, who always told you not to touch that dirty business, how about me?" "You! That's different! You are a good Jew!" Cyprien interrupted. As usual, when he heard that remark, Schleifmann could not dissimulate an angry gesture. M. Raindal regretted his lack of tact and attempted to turn the matter; he gave a mass of minute directions and topographic particulars touching the plan of the Bourse and the place where Pums was to be found. "By the way," he added, "take care of the clerks' pranks! True, they will probably not be very much in a mood for joking to-day.... Nevertheless, be careful of their funny tricks! The first day I myself, went to the Bourse, why, they slipped a paper arrow under the collar of my coat; on it was written in large letters the word: _Topper!_... I know that it has no importance.... Just the same, it is sometimes very annoying at the moment!" The carriage stopped before the gate of the monument. "I shall wait for you here!" Raindal shouted after the Galician as he walked away. "Good luck for us both, and courage, my dear friend!" Up above, under the colonnade, or top of the steps, was the mournful Bourse of the days of _débâcle_. Not a laugh, not a chat, no outburst of merry voices. The faces were ghastly pale; the bravest attempted a joke, twitching their features in lying smiles which were more hideous than grimaces. Over that lugubrious silence came the vociferations of the agents, the outbidding downward, the monotonous shouts of the sales, sales at any price. They were all selling. An unfortunate mistake led the Galician right into the midst of the agents who were dealing with the gold mines. Politely he removed his hat and stood before a fair young man who had ceased shouting.