For all that, for some time past, Marcel seemed to have sobered down, or, rather, his mind was occupied in investigations of more than usual interest. He no longer appeared at the club, scarcely ever went out at nights, and, but for the fact that he still went to the races on Sundays, one might have imagined he had entirely changed his life. Both Baradier and Graff were equally surprised at this transformation; the father was pleased, the uncle uneasy at it. They had spoken on the matter to the General, who had said to them—
“He is an extraordinary young man; you will continually have surprises with him, but do not be anxious, he will turn out a fine man in the end. He has great gifts. Just now he is trying to discover some process of colour photography. Surprising results have already been obtained. Let him alone, do not hinder him, and you will see!”
Graff’s triumph was a brilliant, Baradier’s a quiet one. Marcel had not even noticed the effect caused on his family. He had almost completely quitted Paris. For three weeks he had been living at Troyes, at the Ars manufactory, shut up in his laboratory, only returning to embrace his mother, and give the General an account of the progress of his work. The old chemist and the young inventor then spent delightful days in verifying prescriptions and practising experiments. The one communicated his calculations in the dosings of powders, the other explained his superpositions of plates to obtain the perfect stereotypes he sought. Then they would lunch together, and the General, as warmhearted as the young man, would relate his former escapades, and envy the youth, whilst admiring the strength and intelligence of this fine young fellow before him, who combined so perfectly the capacity for study and pleasure at the same time.
In spite of the storms caused by Marcel’s caprices, life for Baradier and Graff would have flown along pleasantly enough had not destiny brought them in touch with Lichtenbach. Moses, the chief of the firm, son of a Jew marine-store dealer of Passy-sur-Moselle, had in past times been at school with Graff at Metz. Old Graff, who was a brewer, had dealings with Lichtenbach, “the rabbit-skin dealer,” as he called him jokingly, and sold him all his broken glasses and used-up barrels. He imagined him to be poor, and liked to give him the chance of earning a little money. Moses Lichtenbach might have been seen in the streets of Metz driving an old grey horse, harnessed to a waggon, in which the marine-store dealer piled up all kinds of goods and rubbish. He was a kind of wholesale rag-picker, who helped house-wives to get rid of utensils which were no longer of any use, and were becoming an encumbrance. He bought them cheap, but not for nothing. Sometimes, almost ashamed of loading him with corroded stove-pipes, broken shovels, worn-out carpets, and even old straw, or shavings, they would say to him, “Take it, Moses, for the trouble of carting it away.” He would reply, “No! no! Everything has some value or other; I pay little, but I pay.”
It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people shrugged their shoulders, with a smile, as they said to themselves, “The old madman that he is! What use will he make of all that rubbish?” They were in the wrong. Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris, in the rue de la Chaussee d’Antin, in a small shop, above the door of which he had painted the sign: “Lichtenbach, money-changer.” It was in this modest counter that the Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of the Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell old iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had happened, which had in no slight degree contributed to the exodus of the Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the change of business.
The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been, for the majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the signal for departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound down to the land were the only ones to remain in the villages. All who were free of action had loaded the waggons with their trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter themselves from the enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and disasters. The highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun were covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape the invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt, crushed before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the general impulse, Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent his steps towards the centre of France. Instead of moving away from the invader he had marched towards him, and leaving behind in the shop everything cumbersome and worthless, had reached Metz with six baggage waggons, carefully covered, and had settled in a small street near the cathedral, with his wife and son, Elias.
Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with his waggon and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him. Some, more cunning than others, said, “Old Moses is a sly fellow. If Metz is besieged he will buy the broken fragments of German shells as old iron, and continue his business.” But they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of Lichtenbach’s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege and an energetic defence would take place, that victuals would soon become scarce for the town population, and that whoever had the disposal, at a given time, of special food products, might, by selling them at a high price, make a considerable profit.
Accordingly he had entered the town with his six waggons, whilst in his cellar were carefully stored quantities of brandy, coffee, sugar, ham, and a dozen barrels of salt. He had spent a portion of the ready money he possessed in procuring these stores, and had awaited results. Meanwhile, all the Lorraine youth left. The male population which had not become enrolled in the army, as being under age, undertook to resist the invaders. The old martial blood boiled in French hearts, and the young Graff, returned from the town hall, a cockade in his hat, when he met on the square Elias Lichtenbach, walking about smoking a pipe.
Scores of times, extending over long years, whilst old Moses was stationed at Graff’s door loading old iron, or buying the skins of goats or hares killed by the brewer the previous Sunday, had the two boys played together. Antoine carried off young Elias into the garden, and, between them, to the great wrath of Madame Graff, they would climb the wall and steal the fruit, still unripe. They often played at marbles, but in spite of Elias’s utmost efforts, he could never succeed in transferring his glass ones for Antoine’s agate ones. He was the only boy in the town he had not succeeded in exploiting. One day even Antoine proved himself the more cunning, and succeeded in getting Elias to take an old broken sword in exchange for six enormous marbles quite new. Moses was obliged to confess, with a feeling of humiliation, that the young Graff had proved himself more shrewd than the young Lichtenbach.
It must be stated that, on that occasion, Catherine Graff was present, and, with the object of dazzling his friend’s sister, Elias had shown unwonted generosity. This young girl had even then the power of troubling the young boy.