“Plausible stories? Not at all! Downright earnest, every word of it. Hans Shund, take my word for it, will be elected mayor and member of the assembly.”
“In that event,” replied the landholder, “Shund’s disreputable antecedents and disgusting conduct at present must be altogether a secret to his constituents.”
“Again you are mistaken, my dear friend. This remark proceeds from your want of acquaintance with the genius of our times. This city has thirty thousand inhabitants. Every adult among them has heard of Hans Shund the thief, usurer, and companion of harlots. And I assure you that not a voter, not a progressive member of our community, thinks himself doing what is at all reprehensible by conferring dignity and trust on Hans Shund. You have no idea how comprehensive is the soul of liberalism.”
“Let us quit a subject that appears to me impossible, nay, even unnatural,” said Gerlach.
“No, no; for this very reason you need to be convinced,” insisted the banker with earnestness. “My prospective—but hold—I was almost guilty of a want of delicacy. No matter, my actual friend, landholder and millionaire, must be made see with his eyes and touch with his fingers what marvels progress can effect. Let us make a bet: Eighteen days from now Hans Shund will be mayor and member for this city. I shall stake ten thousand florins. You may put in the pair of bays that won the best prizes at the last races.”
Seraphin hesitated.
“Come on!” urged the banker. “Since you refuse to believe my assertions, let us make a bet. May be you consider my stakes too small against yours? Very well, I will say twenty thousand florins.”
“You will be the loser, Greifmann! Your statements are too unreasonable.”
“Never mind; if I lose, you will be the winner. Do you take me up?”
“Pshaw, Carl! you are too sure,” said Louise reproachfully.