Nevertheless, M. Raindal only casually followed the words of the priest who had started on his favorite subject, the origin and dogma of the sect of the United Copts. The brutal departure of Mme. Chambannes had agitated his nerves beyond his control. What struck him as a lack of courtesy towards her other guests he construed as a real lack of friendship, in so far as he himself was concerned. Again, the adventure concealed a mystery which he wished he could fathom. What was the meaning of this hurried flight, this forgetfulness of all social obligations? What drama or what caprice had thus unexpectedly sent Mme. Chambannes out of Paris? And a certain irritation gradually oppressed him; it was not, of course, jealousy—the mere idea of it made M. Raindal laugh cynically—but it resembled disappointment, disillusion, something, in fine, that was very much like a pained surprise in his heart. He lifted his hat to wipe from his forehead a few beads of perspiration.
“You must excuse me!” Uncle Cyprien exclaimed to the marquis, after having made an unsuccessful jeering comment upon the abbé Touronde. “I prefer to be frank.... It is stronger than I.... I do like priests!...” And seeing that the Marquis remained cold and had completely closed his gray eyelids, he added rapidly: “On the other hand, I am willing to admit that I do like the Jews any better.”
Thereupon they very soon proved to be in agreement. M. de Meuze told him briefly of his misfortune on the stock exchange. Cyprien reciprocated with the history of his dismissal and a short account of his theory of the two banks of the river. The marquis approved smilingly and both concluded that those of the right bank were after all a most deplorable tribe.
They were, nevertheless, the marquis added, gentlemen who must be carefully handled and who remained, no matter what one might do, the lords of the financial market.... Ah, in 1882, at the time of the Timbale, people had been very thoughtless. They had attacked these Jews without learning their tactics, without suspecting what their ammunition consisted of, without taking any precaution against their ruses de guerre; and they had been defeated, most thoroughly beaten. How could one fight more able adversaries than oneself? By divining their plans, locating all their batteries, regulating on fire by theirs, and finally rectifying the parabola according to the ambient resistance which was apparent there; such as perfidious information, the mass attacks from the syndicates, the liquidation maneuvers, false news or any other strategical piece of duplicity. Such was now the only scientific way in which men of the world were operating on the Bourse.
“Thus, as for myself,” the marquis continued, giving up his military comparisons, “I am deep in the gold mines at present.... Well, you will perhaps think that I risked myself blindly in this.... Not at all.... The chance of relations brought me into touch with some of those worthy gentlemen, precisely at the Chambannes, and I can assure you that I made no bones about acting upon their particulars.... Certainly not!... And, by the way, I did not find their tips unremunerative....”
“What, you trust those gentry?” the younger M. Raindal asked with disappointment. “Yet I have been assured that many of them are not very trustworthy....”
“Who told you this?”
“One of my friends, Johann Schleifmann, one of their co-religionists, and, I may add, one of the best of men!”
“Your friend exaggerates, monsieur,” the marquis said gently. “Of course, I would not trust them all.... There are some of them whom I shall not name and whom I am more afraid of than of the plague.... Nevertheless, take, for instance, to mention but one, M. Pums, the director of the Bank of Galicia. Here is a man who has been advising me for six months and without any cause for regret.... I could not swear that I do not lose every now and then ... but when I balance my accounts, I find that my operations result in profits, I may say important profits.... Please note also that this cost me neither trouble nor a proof of servility.... Pums has no desire save to oblige me.... He is not one of those viziers of high finance who make you pay for their advice at the rate of sixty humiliations to a hundred per cent.... My M. Pums is a novice! One can have him for a handshake.” The marquis laughed at his own ingenious comparison. Then he went on.
“As for you, Monsieur, of course you have nothing to do with such deviltries!”