We have every species of courage in France, and to a superior
degree, except that of braving public opinion. Few men would have
dared, like Marius de Tregars, to offer their name to the daughter
of a wretch charged with embezzlement and forgery, and that at the
very moment when the scandal of the crime was at its height. But,
when Marius judged a thing good and just, he did it without
troubling himself in the least about what others would think. And
so his mere presence in the Rue. St. Gilles had brought back hope
to its inmates. Of his designs he had said but a word,--“I have
the means of helping you: I mean, by marrying Gilberte, to acquire
the right of doing so.”
But that word had been enough. Mme. Favoral and Maxence had
understood that the man who spoke thus was one of those cool and
resolute men whom nothing disconcerts or discourages, and who knows
how to make the best of the most perilous situations.
And, when he had retired with the Count de Villegre,
“I don’t know what he will do,” said Mlle. Gilberte to her mother
and her brother: “but he will certainly do something; and, if it
is humanly possible to succeed, he will succeed.”
And how proudly she spoke thus! The assistance of Marius was the
justification of her conduct. She trembled with joy at the thought
that it would, perhaps, be to the man whom she had alone and boldly
selected, that her family would owe their salvation. Shaking his
head, and making allusion to events of which he kept the secret,
“I really believe,” approved Maxence, “that, to reach the enemies
of our father, M. de Tregars possesses some powerful means; and what
they are we will doubtless soon know, since I have an appointment
with him for to-morrow morning.”
It came at last, that morrow, which he had awaited with an impatience
that neither his mother nor his sister could suspect. And towards
half-past nine he was ready to go out, when M. Chapelain came in.
Still irritated by the scenes he had just witnessed at the Mutual
Credit office, the old lawyer had a most lugubrious countenance.
“I bring bad news,” he began. “I have just seen the Baron de
Thaller.”
He had said so much the day before about having nothing more to do
with it, that Maxence could not repress a gesture of surprise.
“Oh! it isn’t alone that I saw him,” added M. Chapelain, “but
together with at least a hundred stockholders of the Mutual Credit.”
“They are going to do something, then?”
“No: they only came near doing something. You should have seen them
this morning! They were furious; they threatened to break every
thing; they wanted M. de Thaller’s blood. It was terrible. But M.
de Thaller condescended to receive them; and they became at once as
meek as lambs. It is perfectly simple. What do you suppose
stockholders can do, no matter how exasperated they may be, when
their manager tells them?
“‘Well, yes, it’s a fact you have been robbed, and your money is in
great jeopardy; but if you make any fuss, if you complain thus, all
is sure to be lost.’ Of course, the stockholders keep quiet. It is
a well-known fact that a business which has to be liquidated through
the courts is gone; and swindled stockholders fear the law almost as
much as the swindling manager. A single fact will make the situation
clearer to you. Less than an hour ago, M. de Thaller’s stockholders,
offered him money to make up the loss.”
And, after a moment of silence,
“But this is not all. Justice has interfered; and M. de Thaller
spent the morning with an examining-magistrate.”
“Well?”
“Well, I have enough experience to affirm that you must not rely
any more upon justice than upon the stockholders. Unless there are
proofs so evident that they are not likely to exist, M. de Thaller
will not be disturbed.”
“Oh!”
“Why? Because, my dear, in all those big financial operations,
justice, as much as possible, remains blind. Not through corruption
or any guilty connivance, but through considerations of public
interest. If the manager was prosecuted he would be condemned to a
few years’ imprisonment; but his stockholders would at the same time
be condemned to lose what they have left; so that the victims would
be more severely punished than the swindler. And so, powerless,
justice does not interfere. And that’s what accounts for the
impudence and impunity of all these high-flown rascals who go about
with their heads high, their pockets filled with other people’s money,
and half a dozen decorations at their button-hole.”
“And what then?” asked Maxence.
“Then it is evident that your father is lost. Whether or not he
did have accomplices, he will be alone sacrificed. A scapegoat is
needed to be slaughtered on the altar of credit. Well, they will
give that much satisfaction to the swindled stockholders. The
twelve millions will be lost; but the shares of the Mutual Credit
will go up, and public morality will be safe.”
Somewhat moved by the old lawyer’s tone,
“What do you advise me to do, then?” inquired Maxence.
“The very reverse of what, on the first impulse, I advised you to
do. That’s why I have come. I told you yesterday, ‘Make a row,
act, scream. It is impossible that your father be alone guilty;
attack M. de Thaller.’ To-day, after mature deliberation, I say,
‘Keep quiet, hide yourself, let the scandal drop.’”
A bitter smile contracted Maxence’s lips.
“It is not very brave advice you are giving me there,” he said.
“It is a friend’s advice,--the advice of a man who knows life
better than yourself. Poor young man, you are not aware of the
peril of certain struggles. All knaves are in league and sustain
each other. To attack one is to attack them all. You have no
idea of the occult influences of which a man can dispose who
handles millions, and who, in exchange for a favor, has always a
bonus to offer, or a good operation to propose. If at least I
could see any chance of success! But you have not one. You never
can reach M. de Thaller, henceforth backed by his stockholders.
You will only succeed in making an enemy whose hostility will weigh
upon your whole life.”
“What does it matter?”