“Why should I give it up? The thing is good; though it may be a long time before we realize anything, like all safe investments. My fifty thousand francs are in the bank. I received yesterday the last instalment, five thousand francs, from my business. As for the Ragons, they have put their whole fortune into the affair.”
“How do they contrive to life?”
“Never mind how; they do live.”
“Uncle, I understand!” said Birotteau, deeply moved, pressing the hand of the austere old man.
“How is the affair arranged?” asked Pillerault, brusquely.
“I am in for three eighths, you and the Ragons for one eighth. I shall credit you for that on my books until the question of registration is decided.”
“Good! My boy, you must be getting rich to put three hundred thousand francs into it. It seems to me you are risking a good deal outside of your business. Won’t the business suffer? However, that is your affair. If you get a set-back, why the Funds are at eighty, and I could sell two thousand francs worth of my consolidated stock. But take care, my lad; for if you have to come upon me, it will be your daughter’s fortune that you will take.”
“Ah! my uncle, how simply you say things! You touch my heart.”
“General Foy was touching mine in quite another fashion just now. Well, go on; settle the business; lands can’t fly away. We are getting them at half price. Suppose we do have to wait six years, there will always be some returns; there are wood-yards which will bring in a rent. We can’t really lose anything. There is but one chance against us. Roguin might run off with the money.”
“My wife told me so this very night. She fears—”