NO, EVELINE!
It was high time Ivan returned to his coal-mine; he was needed there.
While he was fighting duels in Pesth, strange things were happening in
Bondathal. Not far from his workmen's colony there arose enormous
buildings with almost miraculous quickness. As often happens when no
difficulty is made as to price, the only question asked is, how soon
shall the work be finished? The shares had not yet been issued, and
the company had already spent in the interest of the undertaking a
million of money. Everything was pressed forward at fever-heat. Here
was a new invention for making tiles by machinery, there a
donkey-engine supplied the materials for building the walls. The
earthworks were in a most advanced condition, the chimneys smoked, the
roofs were covered, a whole street was already built, a new town was
rising as if by magic.
Of all this activity Ivan had been kept in ignorance by his assistant,
Rauné, who had, likewise, been silent as to another disturbing element
which had made its appearance for the first time among the workmen,
and which disputed the palm with "choke-damp" and "foul air," and was
quite as fatal as either. This new element was "a strike." A portion
of Ivan's workmen struck for higher wages, otherwise they would join
the new coal-mine, which was called "The Gentleman's Colony." It
offered nearly double the wages, certainly more than the half again,
of what Ivan paid. This happened after Rauné had explained to the men
that he had accepted the office of director, which had been offered to
him by the new company, and he naturally wished to take with him the
best and cleverest among Ivan's men, so that they, too, might profit
by the higher wages. Who could resist such advantageous offers? Miners
are like all other men; they have their price.
Ivan now gnawed the bitter bread of self-reproach. He saw the folly he
had committed in taking into his service and admitting into the
secrets of the business the paid director of a company created to
bring about his own ruin.
A scientific man is not a good business man. While he was making
investigations as to the probability of animal life existing in the
antediluvian strata of coal-mines, he was blind to the danger of a
rival company close to his own factory. Nay, more; he had allowed
himself to be hoodwinked by an inferior intelligence, and had fallen
into the trap set for him by his old friend Felix. Ivan was
philosopher enough to accommodate himself to circumstances. There was
little use, he told himself, in crying over spilt milk; he had broad
shoulders, and they should, if it were possible, push the wheel of
fortune. But though he said this, he had little hope of succeeding.
On his return, and when he got, as he thought, to the bottom of the
evil, he called his workmen together.
"Comrades," he said, "a great undertaking has risen up beside us; the
company of the new coal-mines offers you wages which I give you my
word of honor it is impossible to pay without considerable loss to
themselves. Up to the present I have worked my mines with a certain
amount of profit; I offer you to-day, in addition to your usual wages,
a share out of this profit. For the future we shall divide with one
another what we earn. At the end of the year I shall lay my accounts
before you; one of your number, chosen by yourselves, shall examine
and audit them, and according to the wages of each man and the work he
has done he shall receive his share. If you agree to this fair offer I
shall continue the work. If, however, you think it better for your
interests to take the higher wages offered by the company, I shall not
enter into competition with men who have millions to spend; it would
be a folly on my part. I shall, therefore, sell them my mine, and you
may then be certain of one thing, that when they have both mines in
their own hands, and find that no rivalry is possible, the rate of
wages will be lowered. To those who stand by me I offer a contract
_for life_; the profits of this mine, so long as I live, shall be
divided between myself and my workmen."
This was an excellent stroke, especially as the company could not
imitate it. More than half the men closed with Ivan's offer, and
undertook to remain with him. A great number, however, influenced by
paid agents, who were sent about to stir them up, went over to the
"Gentleman's Colony."
Those who remained had a great deal to suffer from the ones who left.
Not a Sunday passed without fights taking place between the two
parties.
Ivan soon heard that his powerful rival had found a way of checkmating
him. His customers, to whom he sent large consignments not only of
coal but also of copper and iron bars, wrote to him that the new
Bondavara Coal Company had offered the same class of goods at fifty
per cent. less, and that therefore, unless he was prepared to make a
similar reduction, they could not deal with him. Fifty per cent.
higher wages and fifty per cent. less profit means working for
nothing. Rauné had Ivan's business in the hollow of his hand; he could
ruin it, and he meant to do so. Ivan saw this quite clearly, but he
did not lose heart. He wrote to all his former customers that it was
not possible to give either the coal or the iron a farthing cheaper,
not if it hung round his neck as a dead weight. The consequence was
his coal and his iron accumulated in his warehouses; scarcely a wagon
with his name was to be seen in the streets of Bondathal. He had to
work the mine and the foundry for himself alone.
For the men who had remained true to him there was, indeed, a bad
outlook. Their former comrades jeered at them in the open street.
"Where is the profit?" was a popular cry. Ivan tried to quiet the
disappointed men; he asked them to wait patiently. By the end of the
year, he prophesied, they would be on the right side. To give things
for nothing was not trade, and if the company chose to do it he wasn't
going to follow such a suicidal example.
The great buildings of the new colony being now completed, the
directors of the company announced that they would hold high festival
in honor of the opening of the undertaking. The principals, directors,
managers, shareholders were to come from Vienna and be entertained at
a banquet. The largest room in the factory was fitted up as a
dining-room, the tables being laid for workmen as well as for the
distinguished company of strangers. It was widely circulated that the
prince was coming. The company had chosen him as their president. Both
the princes were patrons of commercial and industrial undertakings,
but Prince Theobald possessed an extraordinary financial talent; any
speculation he engaged in was a sound and sure one, so it was said, as
also that he had taken a million shares in the new company. It was so
far true that Kaulmann had offered him this million, which was to
increase the value of the Bondavara property, but it is needless to
remark that the million of shares had no tangible existence. Previous
to the inaugural ceremony a religious service was to take place, and,
as was only fitting, this was to be conducted by the eminent Abbé
Samuel. Before such distinguished guests it would hardly be in keeping
to have a man such as pastor Mohak, although it was true that he
slaved all through the year among the people.
The guests came from the castle, where they had arrived the previous
day. They drove into the town in splendid coaches. That of Prince
Theobald came first, with his armorial bearings emblazoned on the
panels. Behind two footmen with dazzling liveries of scarlet and gold.
On the box the coachman with a powdered wig and three-cornered hat.
The coach drew up at the church door, the footmen jumped down and
opened the carriage door. There alighted first an old gentleman with
white hair, a clean-shaven, soft, friendly face, and a very
distinguished air. He gave his hand to a splendidly dressed lady in a
velvet and lace costume, who descended from the equipage with graceful
nonchalance. The crowd saw her violet velvet boots and embroidered
silk stockings.
"What a great lady!" cried the boors to one another. "She must be a
princess, for all the gentlemen at the church door received her hat in
hand."
Only one man in a rough workman's coat called out: "Evila!"
It was Peter Saffran who had recognized her.
The lady heard the exclamation, and turned a laughing face to the
crowd outside.
"No," she said; "it is _Eveline_."
She bowed her head sweetly as she crossed the threshold of the church.
Eveline's vanity had brought her to Bondathal; she wanted to show her
silk stockings to her former companions, who had seen her in wooden
shoes with no stockings, except on occasions. It was the vanity of the
peasant girl--not pride, take notice, but mere vanity. She did not
look down upon her friends, as some upstarts do; she wanted to do good
to every one of them. She was ready to give them money, to earn their
grateful thanks, particularly to those who had been kind to her in the
old days; to those especially she wished to prove that, although she
had risen to a high position, she had never forgotten how much she
owed to them. She would now, in her turn, do them good. Eveline had
looked forward to seeing her former bridegroom. Most probably he had
long since consoled himself for her loss, and had married another. A
present of money would make _him_ happy. She had also counted on
meeting Ivan. She had the most grateful remembrance of his goodness,
and she was glad to think she had it in her power to prove her
gratitude by deeds. She could not give him a present, but she could
tell him of the dangers that threatened his property from the large
undertaking of the company, and she promised herself to use all her
influence to make the best terms for Ivan in case he would consent to
arrange matters with his gigantic rival.
Yes, it was indeed the vain desire of doing good that had brought
Eveline to Bondathal. She had arranged how and where she would have
her first meeting with Ivan.
The notabilities and proprietors of the neighborhood had been invited
in the name of the prince to the banquet, which was to inaugurate the
opening of the works. No one could refuse such an invitation. It was
true that when Eveline had proposed to the Abbé Samuel that he should
undertake the office of intermediary, and call on his learned
colleague Behrend, and bring him with him to the banquet, the abbé had
exclaimed not for all the world would he venture to propose such a
thing as that Behrend should wait upon their excellencies. And when he
said this he knew very well what he was saying.
To return to the church door. As Peter Saffran stood stock-still,
gazing after the vanishing figure of his former betrothed, he felt
some one tap him on the shoulder; turning round, he saw standing
behind him Felix Kaulmann. Peter's face went deadly white, partly with
fear, more from inward rage. Felix, however, laughed carelessly, with
the indifference of a great man, to what was, in his opinion, only a
good joke.
"Good-day, fellow. Mind you come to the dinner," he said, as he
followed the prince into the church.
Peter Saffran remained gaping at the noble gentlemen as they got out
of their carriages, and when the crowd began to move into the church
he followed in the stream. He made his way into the darkest corner,
before the shrine of a saint, knelt down, with both his hands laid
upon the wall and his head upon his folded arms, and there he made a
vow--an awful, terrible vow. Those who saw him in his kneeling
attitude, with bent head, imagined he had been struck at last by
grace, and was repenting of his sins. When he had finished his
prayer, or his curse, he got up quickly, and, without waiting for the
end of the splendid ceremonial, hastened out of the church, casting a
wild look behind him as he went, for he imagined that the saint in the
shrine was pointing her finger at him and calling out, "Take him
prisoner! He is a murderer!"
The church service being over, the distinguished company drove to the
company's colony, and went over the works. They drove under triumphal
arches which were erected in the streets, and were received by a
deputation of workmen. The best orator made a speech, which would have
been very eloquent only he stuck fast in the middle. The young girl
who recited some verses was more happy in her delivery, and her
youngest sister presented a bouquet to Eveline, who kissed the child.
"Ah! you are little Marie. Don't you know me?"
The child, however, was too frightened at this beautiful lady to make
her an answer.
The guests visited the buildings under the guidance of Herr Rauné, who
spared them nothing--the factory, the machinery, the iron-works. They
were terribly tired of it all, and glad to get into the large rooms
which had been temporarily arranged as the banqueting-hall. Here they
were received by two bands playing Rakoczy's "March." To the banquet
came a crowd of guests alike invited and uninvited--gentlemen,
peasants, clergymen, and Bohemians. Eveline, however, looked in vain
for her former master. Ivan was not among the guests. He had not even
sent an excuse. What an uncouth man! and yet, perhaps, he had reason.
If you drink beforehand to the skin of the bear, the bear has every
right to decline being present at the feast. Peter Saffran, however,
came; he was treated as the chief guest, and given the first place at
the workman's table. This struck even his obtuse senses. Looking
round he saw he was the only representative of the Bondathal mine.
The banquet lasted far on into the evening. Gentlemen and workmen were
exceedingly merry. Towards the close of the feast Felix sent for
Peter. He presented him to the prince.
"Here is the brave miner of whom I have told your excellency."
Saffran felt the blood rush to his face.
"Well, my good friend," continued Felix, "how has the world treated
you since I last saw you? Are you still afraid of 'the doctor'?
There's a plaster for you; it will heal any remains of your former
injuries." So saying, he took out of his pocket-book a note for a
hundred gulden and put it into Peter's hand. "No," he added, "don't
thank me, but thank the kind lady there, who remembered you."
He pointed to Eveline, and Peter kissed her hand, or, rather, her
beautiful mauve glove.
What a transformation in the man-eater! He had grown obedient and
gentle.
"That good lady," continued Felix, "wishes you well. At her request
his excellency, Prince Theobald, has given you the post of overseer in
the new company's colony, at the yearly salary of a thousand gulden.
What do you say to that?"
What could he say? He kissed the hand of his excellency.
Kaulmann filled a large goblet to the brim with foaming champagne and
handed it to Peter.
"Toss that off," he said. "But first drink to the long life of his
excellency, our generous prince."
"And to the health of this dear lady," added the prince, gallantly, at
which the trumpets sounded shrilly, and Peter Saffran, the prince,
the banker, and Eveline drank to one another.
This scene delighted the working-men. Here was no pride, the gentlemen
clinking glasses with the common miner. This was the right spirit.
Peter Saffran, meantime, was wondering within himself which of the two
gentlemen was Eveline's husband, and in what relation did the other
stand to her? He emptied his glass and put it down again, but it did
not occur to him to put the question to either of the three, therefore
it remained unanswered.
The festival closed with a splendid display of fireworks. The sparks
from the Catherine wheels fell in a shower of molten gold into Ivan's
mine.
The following morning Saffran came to Behrend and informed him that he
had taken service with the company.
"You also?" said Ivan, bitterly. "Well, go!"
Peter was paler than ever. He had expected reproaches for his
treachery, but as none came he suddenly burst out with what had been
for some time in his mind.
"Why did you _that time_ call your friend a doctor?"
"Because he is one. He is a doctor of law."
Saffran raised his finger in a threatening manner. "Nevertheless, it
was very wrong of you to call him _that time_ a doctor." And then he
turned on his heel and went his way.
Ivan's strength of mind was more and more put to the proof. Each day
brought fresh defections. His best men left him to go over to his
enemy, who, like some horrid monster, raised large furnaces which
crushed the very life out of his smaller chimneys. His business
friends fell away from him. They looked upon him as an obstinate
fool, carrying on such an unequal fight; but the darker the outlook
the stronger grew his determination to see the affair to the bitter
end. He would not leave his old home, his own little territory; he
would carry on the unequal, perhaps the fruitless, task of opposing
his apparently triumphant adversary.
In the depth of his misfortune one true, reliable friend remained to
him, and saved him from utter despair. This friend was the
multiplication-table. Before he began to calculate he put these
questions to himself, as if he were some one else:
"Is this colony a company of commercial men? No, a company of
speculators. A joint-stock company? No, it is a game of chance. Is it
a factory? No, a tower of Babel." Then he went on to consider this
point. "Two and two make four, and, turn it how you like, it makes
nothing _but_ four; and if all the kings and emperors in Europe, with
decrees and ukases, were to tell their individual subjects that two
and two make five, and if the pope fulminated a bull to enjoin on all
true believers that two and two make five, and if even the best
financial authority was to declare that we should count two and two as
five, all these--kings, emperors, popes, and accountants--would not
alter the fact that two and two make four. These generous shareholders
of the Bondavara Company are working against a well-known fact. The
new company builds, creates, invents, contracts, buys, and sells
without taking any heed of the primary rule of arithmetic; therefore
it is clear that the company is not working for the future, but merely
for present gain. Therefore, I will live down this swindle."
* * * * *
At the end of the year the company gave their shareholders a surprise.
The Bondavara shares began to fluctuate between thirty-five and forty
florins exchange, although the date of the payment of second
instalments of capital was at hand. At such times all the early bonds
are handed in. Csanta thought this would be a good time for him to
bring in his shares and to get his silver back. He was contemplating a
visit to the bank when he received a private note from Spitzhase,
putting him on his guard not to fall into such a mistake as to sell.
"This very day the board of directors had met, and a resolution had
been carried unanimously that at the next general meeting the
shareholders should be surprised by getting a bonus of twenty per
cent., upon which the shares would at once rise higher. This was a
profound secret, but he could not allow his good friend to remain in
ignorance."
And at the next general meeting the commercial world heard the same
story. The first two months of the Bondavara Coal Company had been
such a signal success that, besides the usual rate of interest, the
directors were enabled to offer upon each share a bonus of six
florins, which amounted (with the usual rate) to thirty-five per
cent., an unheard-of profit in two months.
When Ivan read this in the newspaper he burst into a loud laugh. He
knew, no one better, what amount of profit the factory had made, but
it is easy to manipulate accounts so that the ledger presents these
remarkable results. What do the unbusiness-like, credulous
shareholders understand of such matters? The board of directors know
very well how matters really stand; but they have their own ends to
serve. The outside world may bleed; what is that to them? There is no
court-martial in the stock-exchange, and no justice for the injured.
Csanta did not sell his shares. He paid his second instalment in
silver pieces, rejoiced over the bonus, and blessed Spitzhase for
preventing him from selling his bonds at thirty-five. They had now
risen to forty florins, and continued to rise.
Ivan watched this diabolical swindle with calmness. He said to
himself:
"How long will the game last?"