“Oh, it is not indispensable.... If you wish it, we can assume the responsibility of transmitting your orders in this way....”
While he analyzed the process that would have to be followed, the ex-official was speaking to his own soul. He liked little M. Pums. It would be really impossible to meet a more courteous and obliging man. As for that Jewish appearance which Cyprien had expected to notice in him, the professo brother was compelled to admit that Pums did not show any sign of it. His big chocolate-colored eyes, yellow skin and black mustache gave him the head of a creole, a Spaniard, a Turk or a rich Kirghiz. Even the very slight accent seemed to Cyprien quite different from what might be expected from a naturalized “Prussian.”
“I thank you,” he said, when the other had concluded. “And now, one question, please! How much shall I risk? Is five thousand enough?”
“Anything you like, monsieur. Twenty thousand francs or ten sous, according to your fancy.... You understand very well that I am treating you as a friend and not as a client.... I am only sorry for one thing, that you did not come a fortnight sooner.... With five thousands francs that I could have placed for you a week ago, a straight profit of three thousand francs would have fallen into your pocket at the settlement on the 15th....”
“Three thousand francs,” Uncle Cyprien repeated sadly. “Well, i too late!... Do le think of it!... And since five thousand francs seem enough to you, please be so good as to buy me five thousand francs’ worth of mining stock....”
“Which ones, monsieur?” Pums inquired gravely. “There are hundreds of them.”
“I do know,” murmured Uncle Cyprien. “You must advise me!... Do for me as you would for the marquis!”
Pums gave him a list of mining stocks which the Bank of Galicia and its affiliated houses were backing on the markets. Cyprien was confused by this enumeration and decided according to the prettiness or the strangeness of the names. He selected the “Pink Star of South Africa,” the “Fountain of the Red Diamond,” the “Source of Carbuncles,” the “Pummigan and Kraft,” and the “Deemerhuis and Haarblinck,” the names of which Pums obligingly translated for his benefit.
He then rose, apologizing for having claimed so much precious time. The banker retorted that he was only too glad and went as far as the outside corridor to see his visitor off. He hoped to see him again in a week at the time of the settlement, since they would have to talk it over again.
“What a charming man!” Uncle Cyprien thought, when the door was closed behind him.