“We are saved!” cried Lucien, dazzled.
“You are, yes!” replied Carlos. “But even you are not safe till you walk out of Saint-Thomas d’Aquin with Clotilde as your wife.”
“And what have you to fear?” said Lucien, apparently much concerned for his counselor.
“Some inquisitive souls are on my track—I must assume the manners of a genuine priest; it is most annoying. The Devil will cease to protect me if he sees me with a breviary under my arm.”
At this moment the Baron de Nucingen, who was leaning on his cashier’s arm, reached the door of his mansion.
“I am ver’ much afrait,” said he, as he went in, “dat I hafe done a bat day’s vork. Vell, we must make it up some oder vays.”
“De misfortune is dat you shall hafe been caught, mein Herr Baron,” said the worthy German, whose whole care was for appearances.
“Ja, my miss’ess en titre should be in a position vody of me,” said this Louis XIV. of the counting-house.
Feeling sure that sooner or later Esther would be his, the Baron was now himself again, a masterly financier. He resumed the management of his affairs, and with such effect that his cashier, finding him in his office room at six o’clock next morning, verifying his securities, rubbed his hands with satisfaction.
“Ah, ha! mein Herr Baron, you shall hafe saved money last night!” said he, with a half-cunning, half-loutish German grin.