"M. Pums," the stubborn Galician replied. "I did not come here to talk business to you.... You are right, I know nothing about it.... I came as a Jew and a friend to talk _heart_ to you, to talk justice, to enlist your aid for this brave fellow of whom I am very fond.... If you do not give it, it will be a pity and it will be very sad, because he will die of it!" "Very regrettable," Pums said, "but not certain.... And then, frankly, M. Schleifmann, think it over.... You are asking too much! He is not a relation, this M. Cyprien Raindal, not a friend, at best an acquaintance.... To help him, to be obliging to him--why, it seems to me that I would not begrudge my time.... But in order to save him, I should have to assume his liability in my own name.... I have no choice between the means.... The panic is general.... No one at all is allowed to carry over his account. The Bank of England itself refuses to allow it.... And, according to you, I should personally pledge myself for one hundred and ten thousand francs on behalf of a man I have seen three times in my life?... No, that is not reasonable.... At every séance of the Bourse, there would be ten like him to save.... My fortune would not be sufficient...." He grew more animated, stamping around the table, his thumbs in the shoulder-holes of his waistcoat. "And why should I do this? In order that people should speak well of the Jews, burn incense before Israel.... Go on! I don't care a rap for the Jews.... I have no prejudices.... Every man for himself.... Let them look after their affairs.... I have no hundred and ten thousand francs to throw out of the window like this!" He came to a stop before Schleifmann. "Bah! do you imagine that I am making anything out of this mining business?... I am caught like the others.... I am losing huge sums, the very eyes out of my head." Involuntarily his big round eyeballs showed, in their self-denouncing projection, that he had not lost everything yet. Schleifmann at least did not seem altogether convinced, for he answered Pums, insinuatingly: "Yet, the fall is instigated by the Black Band.... And the Black Band--they are your friends!" "My friends?" repeated Pums, suddenly all abashed. Then he recovered his self-control and added: "Oh, yes! nice friends! You may speak of them.... Wretches!... Imbeciles!... Men who stupidly lead the market to ruin, who know nothing but the rise and fall of stocks! Ah! clever work!... I congratulate them!" Schleifmann did not give up the thread of his arguments. "Nevertheless, these imbeciles, these wretches, you will see them again, to-morrow, or the next day...." "What are you talking about?" Pums exclaimed, to mask his hesitation.... "Shall I see them again?... Well, yes, I presume so.... But I guarantee you that I shall tell them what I think. At this moment, see, if I had one of them handy...." "_Alzo! wie gehts!_" a cordial voice cried out in German behind Schleifmann.