He was obeyed with that complete and eager obedience which is one of the treasures rich men can command, and which may somewhat atone to them for the subserviency and fulsomeness of mankind.
CHAPTER XXI.
Othmar went from her chamber to that of his uncle, lying dumb, unconscious, almost inanimate in his little hotel in the Rue de Traktir, all the innumerable wires which connected that little house with the Bourses of many nations only serving now to bear north, south, east, west, the words so momentous to the ear of financial Europe:
'Le Baron Friedrich se meurt.'
Many there were who trembled at these few words; more who rejoiced to know that the keen eyes were closed, the subtle brain paralysed, the powerful mind swamped in a flood of darkness. He had millions of enemies, thousands of sycophants, few friends; crowds came about his door to know how near he was to death, but it was of the share list and the money market that they thought: how would his loss affect this scheme, those actions, these banks, that syndicate?
'Heaven and earth!' thought his nephew, 'all this excitement, this outcry, this anxiety, and amongst it all not one single honest thought of regret for the man who lies dying!'
If in love we only give what we possess and can do no more, so in life we receive that which we desire. Friedrich Othmar had wished for success, for power, for the means to paralyse nations, inspire wars, control governments, purchase and influence humanity. He had had his wish; but now that he lay dying these thing left him poor.
Men who had eaten his admirable dinners through a score of seasons, said in their clubs: 'Le vieux farceur! est-ce vrai qu'il crève?' and women who had fitted up their costly villas and adorned their worthless persons at his cost hurried to his rooms and took away these jewels, those enamels, that aquarelle, this medallion, whatever they could lay their hands on, screaming 'C'est à moi! c'est à moi! c'est à moi!'
Othmar when he had arrived there, on the first intelligence of his uncle's attack of hemiplegia, had found the house already sacked as though an invading army had passed through the apartments; 'ces dames ont pincé par ci et par là,' said the servants, not confessing their own collusion, with apology. Hardly anything of value that was portable had been left in it; they had all robbed this poor, senseless, fallen monarch as they would.