That evening Eveline paid a visit to her jeweller. She brought him a pair of diamond ear-rings. They were all she had; her ornaments had been seized by the law officers. She sold these to the jeweller, and left the purchase-money in his care, to be spent in a yearly sum on her little brother's grave in Père la Chaise, to have sods of green grass round it, and have fresh flowers placed there on All-Souls' Day. The jeweller promised, for she had been a good customer. She told him she was going to travel. Apparently it was a long journey, for the next morning a bundle was found by the police on the banks of the Seine. It was tied up in a cashmere shawl, which her maid recognized as belonging to the lost actress.
Prince Waldemar offered a large reward to whoever found the body. But it was never found, for the bundle laid at the water-side was only a pretence; and while every one was dragging the river, Eveline had kept her word and sought refuge in the charcoal pit.
Prince Waldemar never heard of her again. He and his household wore mourning in memory of her for six weeks.
CHAPTER XXXIV
CSANTA'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
We have now to go back to the Bondavara Company before the crash came, and when the shares stood at sixty over par, and looked as if they would go even higher. But Csanta was satisfied to sell at sixty. There could be too much of even a good thing. One should not be too grasping, and sixty thousand gulden is a nice profit in one year. He thought he would act as Spitzhase had often recommended, and sell out his shares in small quantities until they were all gone. It would add to the pleasure not to do it all at once.
For some time the quotations had been stationary. He was accustomed to go every morning to the café and read the exchange column, and had always seen the same quotation—"Bondavara, sixty above par."
On the morning of the day upon which Csanta had arranged to send the first instalment of his shares to Vienna he went to his café, and, while waiting to be served, took up the first newspaper that came to hand. As usual he commenced by reading it backwards, beginning at the exchange column. The first thing that caught his eye was, "Bondavara, sixty below par."
A printer's error; and a very serious one! The printer was drunk when he printed it. The fellow ought to be put in prison. If there is any police in Vienna, or justice in the government, such a thing should not pass unpunished; it is enough to shake the nerves of any man not made of iron. If this is not a disturbance of the peace, I don't know what you can call it.
Then he took another paper. The same mistake! He went through the round of the daily papers, and found that all the printers must have chosen this day for a drinking-bout, as each one made the same error between above and below par.