FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS
Any one who wishes to understand the meaning of the proverb, "There is
only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous," should gamble on
the stock-exchange; there he will learn the full meaning of the words.
To-day you are a deity, to-morrow the meanest of street curs. To-day
sixty agents shriek out the name of your speculation; you are a sort
of king, and all the other kings on 'change study your countenance to
see how the wind shifts. To-day, so soon as one o'clock strikes by the
town clock, a swarm of buyers come round you. Your note-book is held
up to the view of all the agents. It is handed from one to another; it
is placed upon the back of an agent, and the competitors write the
number of shares they want. To-day all hands point to the percentage,
which is the proof of your high estate. To-day the crowd who are
speculating on your credit fill all the passages; they scream out, "I
sell!" "I buy!" Even outside the stock-exchange sweet creatures of the
opposite sex, who like dabbling in stock quite as much as do the male
creation, make their books. Women are prohibited from showing their
faces on 'change; but they gamble all the same. Hundreds of ladies
wait upon the stock-broker, with a copy of the exchange list in their
hands; they have marked your shares. Still greater ladies sit outside
the exchange in their grand carriages. In their eagerness they stretch
their heads out of their carriage windows to know from the first-comer
at what figure the shares--your shares--stand.
This is all to-day. To-morrow you are not to be found; your name is
scratched out of the exchange list. Every one knows that your affair
has "burst." You are nowhere. You are nobody. Your place is empty.
* * * * *
The firm of Kaulmann stood at the summit of its triumph. Felix and his
bosom friend, the Abbé Samuel, were enjoying their afternoon siesta.
The room was full of a cloud of smoke, and under its soothing
influence the friends were building castles in the air.
"To-morrow," said Felix, "the pope's loan upon the Hungarian Church
lands will be floated at the exchange."
"To-morrow I shall receive from Vienna my appointment as titular
Bishop of the Siebenbürger."
"The silver kings are ready to plank down their millions on the loan."
"The pope gives it his blessing," murmured the abbé. "The cardinal's
hat is ready for my head."
"The legitimist financiers have shown a decided objection to my wife
appearing on the stage. This may injure the loan; therefore I intend
to-morrow to explain to her that she is not legally my wife."
"Is it true that Prince Waldemar has arrived in Paris?"
"Yes, he has come after Eveline."
"But his presence here will be injurious to our speculation. He is our
declared enemy."
"He cannot injure us now. Since he met such a total defeat in the
matter of the Bondavara mine and the railway his teeth have been
drawn. He and his bears have kept very quiet."
"Then it is Eveline who has brought him here?"
"He is mad about her; he follows her everywhere like a dog, and is
only anxious to pick up any crumb she will give him."
"But she cannot endure him."
"That is the worse for her. It was greatly Prince Theobald's doing.
That old fellow is mad."
"Is it not the case that the Countess Angela's husband wants to put
the prince's affairs into the hands of trustees?"
"Before we left Vienna there was some talk of it."
"Will this affect in any way the Bondavara shares?"
"In no way. The only unmortgaged portion of his capital is absolutely
made over to the company. I can assure you, the Bondavara speculation
is built upon a rock of gold."
As he spoke three telegraphic despatches were brought in by the
servant. One of these was addressed to the abbé, under cover to the
firm of Kaulmann.
"Lupus in fabulâ," said Kaulmann, as he handed the first telegram to
the abbé. The abbé read:
"The Prince Theobald has been declared incapable of
managing his own affairs."
"Poor Eveline, she will have leisure to repent!" remarked Felix, with
a cynical smile.
As he was speaking the abbé opened the telegram addressed to him. He
handed it to Felix, saying:
"And I, too, shall have time to repent."
The telegram ran:
"The minister has resigned; the emperor has accepted
his resignation; the whole system is to be changed."
"Good-bye to the bishop's mitre, to the cardinal's
hat; good-bye to the velvet arm-chair in the House of
Peers."
They read the third telegram together. It contained these words:
"Explosion in the Bondavara colliery. The whole mine
is on fire."
"This is indeed a blow," said Felix, as he let the telegram fall from
his hand. The three telegrams had come like three flashes of
lightning. The last was the worst.
When the news reached Prince Waldemar he would let the bears loose
with a vengeance. Something must be done to avert the imminent
danger--but what?
If there was only time allowed to float the papal loan such small
things as the Bondavara shares and the burning of mines would be of
little consequence. But could the enemy be reduced to silence?
It was settled that the abbé should without delay repair to Eveline,
and that Kaulmann should speak to Prince Waldemar.
The beaming faces of the two men now wore a sombre air. They had only
one card to play--the smile of a woman was their only salvation.