Complete Works of Emile Zola (1100 page)

He calmed down, however, and set aside this effusive manner, which he kept for the common herd, when Saccard, deeming it useless to beat about the bush, forthwith broached the object of his visit, expatiating on his great enterprise, and explaining that, before establishing the Universal Bank with a capital of twenty-five millions of francs, he wished to form a syndicate of friends — bankers and manufacturers — who would preassure the success of the issue by agreeing to take four-fifths of the shares, that was, some forty thousand. Daigremont had become very serious, and listened to him, and watched him, as if searching to the depths of his brain, to ascertain what effort, what labour useful to himself, he might yet get out of this man whom he had known so active, so full of marvellous qualities amidst all his blundering fever. At first he hesitated. ‘No, no,’ said he, ‘I am overwhelmed already; I do not wish to take anything fresh in hand.’

Then, tempted nevertheless, he asked some questions, wished to know what projects the new venture would patronise, projects which Saccard was prudent enough to speak about with the extremest reserve. And when Daigremont had been made acquainted with the first enterprise which it was intended to launch, that idea of syndicating all the Mediterranean transport companies under the name of the United Steam Navigation Company, he seemed very much struck with it, and suddenly yielded.

‘Well, I consent to go in. But on one condition only. How do you stand with your brother, the minister?’

Saccard was so surprised at the question that he frankly displayed his rancour. ‘With my brother? Oh! he does his business, and I do mine. He hasn’t very fraternal feelings, that brother of mine.’

‘Then so much the worse!’ flatly declared Daigremont. ‘I won’t be with you unless your brother is with you too. You understand, I won’t have you two at loggerheads together.’

With an angry gesture of impatience Saccard began protesting. What need had they of Rougon? Would it not be seeking chains with which to bind themselves hand and foot? But at the same time the voice of prudence, stronger than his irritation, repeated to him that it was at least necessary that they should assure themselves of the great man’s neutrality. And yet, after all, he brutally refused. ‘No, no, he has always been too hoggish with me. I will never take the first step.’

‘Listen,’ resumed Daigremont. ‘I expect Huret here at five o’clock with respect to a commission he has undertaken for me. You will hurry off to the Corps Législatif, take Huret into a corner, tell him your plans, and he will at once speak of the matter to Rougon, find out what the latter thinks of it, and we shall have the answer here at five o’clock. That’s it, eh? An appointment here at five o’clock?’

With his head low, Saccard reflected. ‘Mon Dieu!’ said he, ‘if you insist upon it.’

‘Oh, absolutely! Without Rougon, nothing; with Rougon, anything you like.’

‘All right, I will go then.’

They had shaken hands vigorously, and Saccard had started off, when the other called him back. ‘Ah, I say, if you find things promising, just call on your way back upon the Marquis de Bohain and Sédille; tell them that I am going in, and ask them to join — I want them with us.’

At the door Saccard found his cab, which he had kept, although he had only to go down to the end of the street to get home. He now dismissed the vehicle, in the idea that he could have his own horse in the afternoon; and then he hurried back to get something to eat. They had long since given him up; however, the cook served him a bit of cold meat, which he devoured whilst quarrelling with the coachman; for when the latter had been summoned, and had given an account of the veterinary surgeon’s visit, it appeared that the horse must be allowed three or four days’ rest. Thereupon Saccard, with his mouth full, accused the coachman of neglect, and threatened him with Madame Caroline, who would see to it all. Finally, he shouted for him to go for another cab. Just then a diluvian shower again swept the street, and he had to wait more than a quarter of an hour for a vehicle, into which he stepped, under the torrential downpour, shouting the address: ‘To the Corps Législatif!’

His plan was to arrive before the sitting, so that he might get hold of Huret, and quietly interview him. Unfortunately an exciting debate was feared that day, for a member of the Left was to bring up the eternal question of Mexico, and Rougon no doubt would be obliged to reply.

As Saccard entered the Salle des Pas Perdus,1 he was lucky enough to meet the deputy, and led him into one of the little reception-rooms near by, where they found themselves alone, thanks to the great excitement prevailing in the lobbies. The opposition was growing more and more formidable, a wind of catastrophe was beginning to blow — a wind destined to increase and sweep everything away. Thus Huret, who was very preoccupied, did not at first understand Saccard, and the latter had to repeat his request. On the deputy realising what was wanted of him, his dismay increased: ‘Oh, my dear friend, how can you think of such a thing!’ he exclaimed. ‘Speak to Rougon at such a moment as this! He will send me to the deuce, you may be sure of it.’

Then his anxiety as to his personal interests became manifest. His very existence depended on the great man, to whom he owed his selection as an official candidate, his election, his situation as a kind of general servant living on the crumbs of his master’s favour. By following this calling for a couple of years, he had, thanks to bribes and pickings prudently realised, been able to increase his extensive Calvados estates, intending to retire and enthrone himself there after the Downfall.

His fat, cunning, peasant-like face had now darkened, and expressed all the embarrassment he felt at this sudden request for intervention, which gave him no time to consider whether he would gain or lose thereby. ‘No, no! I cannot,’ he repeated. ‘I told you your brother’s decision; I cannot disturb him again. The devil! think of me a little. He’s by no means gentle when he’s bothered; and, plainly now, I’ve no desire to pay for you at the cost of my own credit.’

Thereupon, Saccard, understanding, strove to convince him that millions of money were to be gained by the launching of the Universal Bank. With broad touches and glowing words, which transformed a pecuniary affair into a poet’s tale, he explained all the superb enterprises which were in view, and dwelt on their certain and colossal success. Daigremont, whose enthusiasm was roused, would place himself at the head of the syndicate. Bohain and Sédille had already asked to come into it. It was impossible that he, Huret, should not be one of them: the others absolutely wanted him to join them on account of his high political position. They even hoped that he would consent to become a member of the board of directors, for his name was a guarantee of method and probity.

At this promise that he should be made a director, the deputy looked Saccard full in the face. ‘Well, what is it that you want of me, what reply do you wish me to get from Rougon?’ he asked.

‘Oh! for my part,’ replied Saccard, ‘I would willingly have dispensed with my brother. But Daigremont insists on a reconciliation. Perhaps he is right — so I think that you ought simply to speak of our affair to the terrible fellow, and obtain, if not his help, at least a promise that he won’t oppose us.’

Huret, his eyes half closed, still seemed undecided.

‘You see, if you can only draw an amiable word from him — just an amiable word, you understand — Daigremont will be satisfied with it, and we will settle the matter this afternoon between us three.’

‘Well, I will try,’ suddenly declared the deputy, affecting a peasant’s bluntness, ‘but I shall only do so for your sake, for he is not a pleasant customer by any means — no indeed, especially when the Left is tormenting him. At five o’clock, then?’

‘At five o’clock.’

For nearly an hour longer Saccard lingered at the Palais Bourbon, greatly disturbed by the rumours of battle which were afloat. Hearing one of the great orators of the Opposition announce that he meant to speak, he momentarily felt a desire to go in search of Huret again, and ask him if it would not be prudent to postpone the interview with Rougon until the next day. Then, fatalist that he was, believing in chance, he trembled lest he might compromise everything if he altered existing arrangements. Perhaps, too, in the scramble, his brother would the more readily speak the desired word. And thereupon, in order to let things take their course, he started off, and again got into his cab, which was already recrossing the Pont de la Concorde, when he recollected the desire expressed by Daigremont: ‘Driver,’ he called, ‘Rue de Babylone.’

It was in the Rue de Babylone that the Marquis de Bohain lived, occupying a grand mansion’s former dependencies — a pavilion which had once sheltered stablemen, but had now been transformed into a very comfortable modern house, the luxurious appointments of which were coquettishly aristocratic. The Marquis’s wife, by the way, was never seen; her health was bad, he said; infirmities kept her in her apartments. Nevertheless, the house and furniture were hers; he lived with her only as a lodger, having nothing of his own save his clothes, a trunkful, which he could have carried away on a cab. He and she had been legally separated, so far as estate went, since he had begun living by speculation. On two disastrous occasions already he had flatly refused to pay up what he owed, and the official receiver, after looking into matters, had not even taken the trouble to send him any stamped paper. The sponge was passed over the claims against him. He pocketed as long as he won, but as soon as he lost he did not pay; folks knew it, and resigned themselves to it. On the other hand, he bore an illustrious name, and his presence and manners were of a kind to adorn a board of directors, so that new companies in search of a little gilding disputed with each other for his services, and he never knew a slack time. At the Bourse he had his chair on the Rue Notre-Dame-des-Victoires side frequented by the rich speculators, who pretended to take no interest in the little rumours of the day. They respected and frequently consulted him. He had often influenced the market. And, briefly, he was quite a personage.

Though Saccard knew the Marquis well, he was nevertheless impressed by the loftily polite reception accorded him by this handsome old man of sixty, whose small head was perched upon a colossal body, a brown wig setting off his pale face, the expression of which was exceedingly aristocratic.

‘Monsieur le Marquis, I come as a veritable solicitor,’ said Saccard, explaining the motive of his visit, but without entering into details.

At his first words, however, the Marquis stopped him. ‘No no, all my time is taken. I have at this moment a dozen proposals which I must refuse.’

Then, as Saccard added, smiling, ‘Daigremont sent me; he thought of you,’ he immediately exclaimed, ‘Oh! is Daigremont in it? Well, well, if Daigremont is with you, so am I. Rely on me.’

Then, as his visitor wished to furnish him with at least a little information, so that he might know what sort of an undertaking he was joining, he closed his mouth, with the amiable, easy-going manner of a grand seigneur, who does not descend to such details, and has a natural confidence in people’s probity.

‘Not another word, I beg of you. I do not wish to know. You need my name, I lend it to you, and I am very glad to do so; that is all. Simply tell Daigremont to arrange the matter to his liking.’

On stepping into his cab again, Saccard, feeling quite gay, laughed inwardly. ‘He will cost us dear,’ he thought, ‘but he is really charming.’ Then he added aloud: ‘Driver, Rue des Jeûneurs.’

It was here that Sédille had his warehouses and offices on a vast ground-floor at the far end of a courtyard. After thirty years’ toil, Sédille, who was a native of Lyons and had retained some workshops there, had at last succeeded in making his silk business one of the best known and best established in Paris, when a passion for gambling, due to chance circumstances, broke out and spread within him with the destructive violence of a conflagration. A couple of strokes, which one after the other yielded him considerable profit, made him altogether lose his head. What was the use of giving thirty years of one’s life to the earning of a paltry million, when, in a single hour, by a simple transaction at the Bourse, one can put the same amount in one’s pocket? From that time he gradually ceased to take any interest in his business, which simply continued working thanks to pre-acquired motive power. He lived in the sole hope of some triumphant stroke of speculation; and, having fallen on a vein of persistent ill-luck, soon sank in gambling all the profits of his business. The worst of such a fever as this is that a man becomes disgusted with legitimate gains, and finally even loses an exact idea of money. And ruin lay inevitably at the end, for in vain did the Lyons workshops bring Sédille in a couple of hundred thousand francs a year, since speculation swept away three hundred thousand.

Saccard found him agitated and anxious, for this merchant gambler lacked phlegm and philosophy. He lived in a state of remorse, always hoping, always dejected, sick with uncertainty, and all this because he was still honest at heart. The settlement at the end of April had proved disastrous to him. However, his fat face, fringed with large fair whiskers, flushed at the first words: ‘Ah! my dear fellow, if it is luck that you bring me, you are welcome!’ Then seized with a fit of terror, he added: ‘But no, no, do not tempt me. I should do better to shut myself up with my goods, and never stir from my counting-house.’

Wishing to let him calm himself, Saccard began speaking to him of his son Gustave, whom he had seen, he said, that morning at Mazaud’s. But to the merchant this was another subject of chagrin, for he had dreamt of transferring the responsibility of his establishment to this son, and the latter despised commercial pursuits, and cared only for mirth and festivity, having the white teeth of a parvenu’s son, teeth only fit to devour the fortune that might some day fall to them. Still, his father had placed him with Mazaud to see if he would nibble at finance.

‘Since the death of his poor mother,’ murmured the manufacturer, ‘he has given me very little satisfaction. But in a broker’s office he will perhaps learn some things that may be useful to me.’