My father was endowed with a due share of the romantic fervour which
distinguished men of his epoch, and set great store by friendship. More
particularly, he was wrapped up in his friends in San Sebastian.
When we discovered that we were in trouble, before throwing ourselves
into the loving arms of the Bourse, my father spoke to two intimate
friends of his who were from San Sebastian. They made an appointment to
meet me in the Café Suizo. I explained the situation to them, after
which they made me certain propositions, which were so usurious, so
outrageously extortionate, that they took my breath away. They offered
to advance us the money we needed for fifty per cent of the gross
receipts, while we were to meet the running expenses out of our fifty
per cent, receiving no compensation whatever for our services in taking
care of the business.
I was astonished, and naturally did not accept. The episode was a great
blow to my father. I frequently came face to face with one of our
friends at a later date, but I never bowed to him. He was offended. I
was tempted to approach him and say: "The reason that I do not bow to
you is because I know you are a rascal."
If either of these friends of ours were alive, I should proceed to
mention their names, but, as they are dead, it will serve no useful
purpose.