THE GROUND BURNS UNDER HIS FEET
Peter Saffran's curse seemed likely to be fulfilled: "Upon this field
no grass shall grow for evermore."
It was true the green grass grew still upon the field, but who could
tell what was seething underneath, in the bosom of the earth?
The directors of the company's mine believed that when they closed all
the entrances and openings to the shafts and vaults, they had given,
by so doing, a check to the conflagration; by preventing the current
of the outer air from getting in, they felt sure the fire must in a
short time be extinguished.
On the other hand, there was the irremediable evil that the supply of
coal gradually diminished; even the necessary material for keeping the
forge heated was wanting. They tried to heat it with wood--there were
plenty of trees in the forest--but without coal the heater would not
work, and much iron was lost in consequence. Instead of iron bars, a
great quantity of "rammers" lay scattered about. It was soon patent
that, from all these causes combined, the company were not in a
condition to fulfil their contract for supplying the railway
contractors with iron rails. The guarantee was in danger, as was also
that of the railway company, in case the railway could not be opened
for traffic at the time promised in their agreement.
The Bondavara Mine Company and Railway Company were, so to speak,
glued to one another; one could hardly take a step without dragging
the other down the dangerous path on which both were going headlong to
ruin.
Being in such evil straits, the directors began to look for help to
the other mine. Coal they must have. In Ivan Behrend's colliery there
must be a large supply. For a whole year he had sold none. They must
buy from him, even at an advanced price.
Rauné also bethought himself of begging for coal from the same source.
Surely no one could refuse to oblige an old friend and neighbor.
His letter, however, came back to him with the seal unbroken. At this
moment Rauné was terribly hard pressed. He resolved to wait upon Ivan,
and make his request in person.
His visit was a short one. He was in all less than two seconds in
Ivan's room, from which the first thing that issued was his hat, which
he followed promptly. After this Ivan's voice was heard.
"I hold no conversation with spies."
Rauné wrote the directors a long letter, in which he said that Behrend
was a boorish, selfish man, who was determined to profit by the
misfortune which had happened to the Bondavara mine, and would not
give his coal at _any_ price; instead of selling, he was using it in
the manufacture of a quantity of iron rails, and speculating on the
chance that the company would be forced to buy at any sum he chose to
ask.
The result of his letter was very different from what he had looked
for. The railway directors wrote at once to Ivan, and made him an
advantageous offer for his iron rails; and if he had asked fifty per
cent. more they were prepared to accede to his demand.
The profit for Ivan's faithful workmen was a very full harvest. The
deserters to the enemies' camp now implored to be taken on again; they
had no work. But they were not received by their former comrades; a
committee of the men decided, without a dissentient voice, against
taking on one of the deserters, but took on a total stranger. This
decision settled the matter, and Ivan was forced to acknowledge it was
just. The new member was bound to work for a year as a common laborer,
and the committee were not to decide whether he should be admitted to
the rights of the existing colony, and entitled to his share of the
profit; this should be put to the vote.
Meantime the work was splendidly done. Each man looked upon the mine
as his own property; there were few blunders, and the success was
remarkable; neither labor nor time was spared. Order was preserved,
discipline maintained, and there was no necessity for harsh measures,
nor for overseers.
Under all this fine weather, however, there lurked clouds. In the far
distance storms were gathering, evident to an experienced eye.
Ivan noted the coming danger, but he did not let it escape his lips.
It could not be averted. His mine was threatened; the fire that was
consuming the neighboring colliery might spread to his. This thought
filled his mind by day and by night. From the situation of the
coal-stratum he could draw the conclusion that the conflagration must
spread to Bondathal. It might take years, but in the end the Bondathal
mine would share the same fate as its neighbor of Bondavara, and be
reduced to ashes.
The earth has buried many such wrecks in its bosom. But not alone
below, but on the earth itself this Bondavara misfortune had ruined a
multitude of people.
In the beginning the board of directors, who administered the affairs
of the shareholders, hit upon the idea that with the ready money at
their command they would buy up all the shares in the market, and in
this way serve a double purpose. In the first place, they would secure
for themselves the shares which had been issued at par at a price far
below par, and in the next they would check any further fall.
The board, however, by this manoeuvre only effected a more rapid smash;
the money in the treasury dwindled away until at last for the
necessary expenses there was nothing left.
Prince Waldemar knew how to make use of the daily papers. He was
always ready, and the shares having, through him, fallen thirty per
cent. lower, he was resolved to send them still further down. The time
was at hand when they would stand at _nil_, and then the owner of
these miserable shares would be glad to _offer_ one per cent. to any
one who would take them off his hands.
It was a wicked game to play. Thousands were made beggars. The poorer
people suffered most--those who a short year ago came with their
little savings in their hands, crying to take shares. Poor souls! the
high interest had tempted them to their ruin. Ah, it is an old story
this, that repeats itself with periodic fidelity; the clerk, the old
man, the widow, the old maid, the governess or teacher--these are the
victims of this cruel Juggernaut. The cashier who has gambled with his
master's money fills in the picture. But there are not wanting others
who suffer, but are not reduced altogether to want. Solid tradesmen
are crippled, people who drove their carriages have to walk, lovers
whose wedding-day was fixed have to wait, and sometimes pine away in
single blessedness. Woe! woe! on every side.
But the Bondavara catastrophe had ruined not alone poor and well-to-do
people; it had dragged down in its fall the high and powerful family
of Bondavary, one of the most ancient in Hungary. The Marquis Salista
had learned a severe lesson; he found that you cannot take away the
centrepiece of a building without endangering the whole edifice. The
sequestration of the prince's property had drawn the whole body of
creditors upon him. And so it came to pass that the large property of
a great nobleman, a reigning prince, fell under the administration of
his creditors; the heirs had really burned the ground under their own
feet.
If the stewards and agents in the prince's time had been thieves, the
administration of the property by the creditors was the very
realization of plunder on all sides.
The result was disastrous so far as the Countess Theudelinde was in
question; there was no one responsible, so it appeared, for her forty
thousand pounds. All the family charges and mortgages came first on
the list of payments. Let her grasp hers--if she could.
The one who suffered most was the Countess Angela. Her husband,
Marquis Salista, had from the first lived in the extravagant manner
befitting a man who has come into a fortune of twenty millions. It was
impossible to induce him to change his ideas. This led to sharp
conflicts between the married pair.
On the other side, Angela showed him plainly that she had married him
not from liking, but out of pique.
The marquis knew it--and so did Ivan; but he had something else to
think of. The ground was burning under _his_ feet.