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That assurance about the settling of my account, and then the name of the Nabob, that man so rich "You actually believe it, you?" the cashier said to me. "You will be always innocent, then, my poor Passajon. Don't disturb yourself. It will be the same with the Nabob as it was with Moessard's Queen." And he returned to the manufacture of his shirt-fronts.
The expenses of advertising were considerable: Moëssard's articles, sent to Corsica in packages of twenty thousand, thirty thousand copies, with portraits, biographies, pamphlets, all the printed clamor that it is possible to raise around a name. And then there was no diminution in the ordinary consumption of the panting pumps established around the reservoir of millions.
Jansoulet, for his part, feared to see his in it and did not stop. Then suddenly he reflected: "Must not a public man be above these weaknesses? I am strong enough now to read everything." He retraced his steps and took a newspaper like his colleagues. He opened it, very calmly, right at the place usually occupied by Moessard's articles. As it happened, there was one.
"Why, you'll always be an innocent, my poor Passajon. Never you fear! The Nabob's in it just about as much as Moëssard's queen was." And he went back to his shirt-fronts. His last remark referred back to the time when Moëssard was paying court to his queen and had promised the Governor that, in case he was successful, he would induce Her Majesty to invest some funds in our enterprise.
Money was demanded for advertising expenses, for Moessard's articles, which were sent to Corsica in bales of thousands of copies, with portraits, biographies, pamphlets all the printed clamour that it was possible to raise round a name. And always the usual work of the suction-pumps went on, those pumps now fixed to this great reservoir of millions.
For two months this story held all of us breathless. We felt some disquiet, we kept a watch on Moessard's face, considered that the lady was inclined to insist upon a great deal of ceremony; and our old cashier, with his dignified and serious air, when he was questioned on the matter, would answer gravely, behind his wire screen: "Nothing fresh," or "The thing is in a good way."
Jansoulet, for his part, dreaded to see his and did not stop. But suddenly he thought: "Ought not a public man to be above such weaknesses as this? I am strong enough to read anything now." He retraced his steps and took a paper like his colleagues. He opened it very calmly at the place usually occupied by Moëssard's articles. There was one there.
In a week the Schwalbach notes to be paid, that is to say eight hundred thousand francs, Moëssard's claim for damages he demanded a hundred thousand francs or would apply to the Chamber for authority to institute criminal process against him another more dangerous suit begun by the families of two little martyrs of Bethlehem against the founders of the establishment; and, in addition to all the rest, the complications of the Caisse Territoriale.
Thereupon the Nabob flew into a terrible passion, which caused him to destroy a service of porcelain, and it appears that, had it not been for M. de Gery, he would have rushed off at once to punch Moessard's head. "And he would have done very well," remarked M. Noel, entering at these last words, very much excited. "There is not a line of truth in that rascal's article.
Thereupon the Nabob flew into a terrible rage, so that he demolished a whole porcelain service, and it seems that, if it had not been for M. de Géry, he would have gone off on the instant to break Moëssard's head. "And he would have done quite right," said M. Noël, entering the room at that moment; and he, too, was greatly excited. "There's not a single word of truth in that villain's article.
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