does not pardon me for
always having declined to receive her in Tunis. Do you know what she
called me just now as she passed me? 'Thief and son of a dog.' As free
in her language as that, the odalisk--That is to say, that if I did not
know my Hemerlingue to be as cowardly as he is fat--After all, bah! let
them say what they like. I snap my fingers at them. What can they do
against me? Ruin me with the Bey? That is a matter of indifference
to me. There is nothing any longer for me to do in Tunis, and I shall
withdraw myself from the place altogether as soon as possible. There
is only one town, one country in the world, and that is Paris--Paris
welcoming, hospitable, not prudish, where every intelligent man may find
space to do great things. And I, now, do you see, de Gery, I want to do
great things. I have had enough of mercantile life. For twenty years I
have worked for money; to-day I am greedy of glory, of consideration, of
fame. I want to be somebody in the history of my country, and that will
be easy for me. With my immense fortune, my knowledge of men and of
affairs, the things I know I have here in my head, nothing is beyond my
reach and I aspire to everything. Believe me, therefore, my dear boy,
never leave me"--one would have said that he was replying to the secret
thought of his young companion--"remain faithfully on board my ship. The
masts are firm; I have my bunkers full of coal. I swear to you that we
shall go far, and quickly, _nom d'un sort_!"

The ingenuous southerner thus poured out his projects into the night
with many expressive gestures, and from time to time, as they walked
rapidly to and fro in the vast and deserted square, majestically
surrounded by its silent and closed palaces, he raised his head towards
the man of bronze on the column, as though taking to witness that great
upstart whose presence in the midst of Paris authorizes all ambitions,
endows every chimera with probability.

There is in young people a warmth of heart, a need of enthusiasm which
is awakened by the least touch. As the Nabob talked, de Gery felt his
suspicion take wing and all his sympathy return, together with a shade
of pity. No, very certainly this man was not a rascal, but a poor,
illuded being whose fortune had gone to his head like a wine too heavy
for a stomach long accustomed to water. Alone in the midst of Paris,
surrounded by enemies and people ready to take advantage of him,
Jansoulet made upon him the impress