rancois
Keller. He was shown into a salon which adjoined the study of the
celebrated banker,--celebrated in various ways. Birotteau found
himself among a numerous company of deputies, writers, journalists,
stock-brokers, merchants of the upper grades, agents, engineers, and
above all satellites, or henchmen, who passed from group to group, and
knocked in a peculiar manner at the door of the study, which they were,
as it seemed, privileged to enter.

"What am I in the midst of all this?" thought Birotteau, quite
bewildered by the stir of this intellectual kiln, where the daily bread
of the opposition was kneaded and baked, and the scenes of the grand
tragi-comedy played by the Left were rehearsed. On one side he heard
them discussing the question of loans to complete the net-work of canals
proposed by the department on highways; and the discussion involved
millions! On the other, journalists, pandering to the banker's
self-love, were talking about the session of the day before, and the
impromptu speech of the great man. In the course of two long hours
Birotteau saw the banker three times, as he accompanied certain persons
of importance three steps from the door of his study. But Francois
Keller went to the door of the antechamber with the last, who was
General Foy.

"There is no hope for me!" thought Birotteau with a shrinking heart.

When the banker returned to his study, the troop of courtiers, friends,
and self-seekers pressed round him like dogs pursuing a bitch. A few
bold curs slipped, in spite of him, into the sanctum. The conferences
lasted five, ten, or fifteen minutes. Some went away chap-fallen; others
affected satisfaction, and took on airs of importance. Time passed;
Birotteau looked anxiously at the clock. No one paid the least attention
to the hidden grief which moaned silently in the gilded armchair in the
chimney corner, near the door of the cabinet where dwelt the universal
panacea--credit! Cesar remembered sadly that for a brief moment he too
had been a king among his own people, as this man was a king daily; and
he measured the depth of the abyss down which he had fallen. Ah, bitter
thought! how many tears were driven back during those waiting hours! how
many times did he not pray to God that this man might be favorable to
him! for he saw, through the coarse varnish of popular good humor, a
tone of insolence, a choleric tyranny, a brutal desire to rule, which
terrified his gentle spirit. At last, w