The young man looked a little downcast, in spite of his stoicism. Degraux clapped him on the shoulder.
“Now, my young friend, cheer up. After all, you are not doing so badly. Live as frugally as you can, put by every penny you can save. If things go well, still save. If they go badly, you will have something put by. You remember our last conversation here, eh? I told you to join, as quickly as possible, the ranks of the exploiters instead of remaining in the vast army of the exploited.”
Nello remembered that conversation well. Degraux’s advice had made a great impression on him at the time.
“That is precisely what I am here for, Monsieur—to ask you to give me a little more of your valuable advice on a very important matter. I am not at all sure about the rewards of the simply artistic career.”
“Tell me what is in your mind,” answered Degraux kindly. It was not the first time in his long and brilliant career that he had been called upon to act as the arbiter of a young man’s destiny.
Nello told him of the note addressed to himself, of the letter directed to the Baron Salmoros, whom Péron apparently claimed as an old and attached friend.
Degraux elevated his eyebrows at the mention of that world-known name.
“Salmoros! One of the greatest of European financiers. He knows the secrets of pretty well every Cabinet,” he remarked, when the young man had finished his narrative. “Your old Papa Péron must, at some time, have been a person of more than ordinary distinction. You have no knowledge of the contents of that sealed letter?”
“None, Monsieur. I can only guess that I have been recommended to the Baron’s protection.”
“Of course,” said Degraux. “It is a pity this very kind old man was not a little bit more communicative before his death, or in his last letter to you.”