“Do you see? You must admit that for a first-floor apartment, mine enjoys a fine view.... The house of our lords is in full sight....”
Through the white-barred windows Cyprien saw the Place de Palais Bourbon and in front of the ancient door a little soldier dreaming near his sentry box, holding his rifle at attention. Cyprien said sneeringly:
“Ah! it is there that our lords of the cheque-book dwell.”
“Yes, M. Raindal, right there ... the door facing us! This window will be worth much on the first day of the riots.... But we are gossiping. I was forgetting the object of your visit.... What was it?... You came for the mines, did you?”
Cyprien agreed that this was the case. He had come under the seal of secrecy—for, of course, no one, not even his brother, should know of his attempt—and after serious consideration.
“Quite so,” the marquis interrupted. “I guessed as much.... Will you please come this way.... We shall be more at ease to talk.”
They passed into the other room, a vast cabinet furnished in Eastern style with scimitars and carbines inlaid with mother-of-pearl in panoplies. He went on:
“So you wish to join the party? Nothing easier.... I am going to write to M. Pums now and, unless you inform him to the contrary, you must go and see him to-morrow about three at the Bank of Galicia, 72 rue Vivienne.... Will this do?...”
He sat down at his huge table and added, while he wrote the note:
“But, take care, no foolishness! Be cautious. The time is favorable.... But you must foresee the débâcle, the inevitable unfortunate débâcle which always occurs with speculative stocks?... Oh, we are not there yet.... But you must keep your eyes open.... Do lose your head! You had better bother Pums ten times before you give an order ... and at the slightest break, you must sell at once, sell without paying any heed to anything! Do you hear?”