“My dear Colonel Morley,” said Savarin, “I hear you very often say that a Frenchman cannot understand America. Permit me to observe that an American cannot understand France—or at least Paris. Apropos of Paris that is a large speculation of yours, Louvier, in the new suburb.”
“And a very sound one; I advise you to invest in it. I can secure you at present 5 per cent. on the rental; that is nothing—the houses will be worth double when the Rue de Louvier is completed.”
“Alas! I have no money; my new journal absorbs all my capital.”
“Shall I transfer the money I hold for you, Signorina, and add to them whatever you may have made by your delightful roman, as yet lying idle, to this investment? I cannot say more in its favour than this: I have embarked a very large portion of my capital in the Rue de Louvier, and I flatter myself that I am not one of those men who persuade their friends to do a foolish thing by setting them the example.”
“Whatever you advise on such a subject,” said Isaura, graciously, “is sure to be as wise as it is kind!”
“You consent, then?”
“Certainly.”
Here the Venosta, who had been listening with great attention to Louvier’s commendation of this investment, drew him aside, and whispered in his ear: “I suppose, M. Louvier, that one can’t put a little money-a very little money—poco-poco pocolino, into your street.”
“Into my street! Ah, I understand—into the speculation of the Rue de Louvier! Certainly you can. Arrangements are made on purpose to suit the convenience of the smallest capitalists—from 500 francs upwards.”
“And you feel quite sure that we shall double our money when the street is completed—I should not like to have my brains in my heels.”