hampagne."

To make an old commercial traveller drunk is an impossibility. Cesar
mistook the elation of the man's vulgarity when he attempted to sound
his mind.

"That infamous Roguin is still connected with you," he began; "don't you
think you ought to write and tell him to assist an old friend whom he
has compromised,--a man with whom he dined every Sunday, and whom he has
known for twenty years?"

"Roguin? A fool! his share is ours now. Don't be worried, old fellow,
all will go well. Pay up to the 15th, and after that we will see--I say,
we will see. Another glass of wine? The capital doesn't concern me one
atom; pay or don't pay, I sha'n't make faces at you. I'm only in the
business for a commission on the sales, and for a share when the lands
are converted into money; and it's for that I manage the owners. Don't
you understand? You have got solid men behind you, so I'm not afraid, my
good sir. Nowadays, business is all parcelled out in portions. A single
enterprise requires a combination of capacities. Go in with us; don't
potter with pomatum and perfumes,--rubbish! rubbish! Shave the public;
speculate!"

"Speculation!" said Cesar, "is that commerce?"

"It is abstract commerce," said Claparon,--"commerce which won't be
developed for ten years to come, according to Nucingen, the Napoleon of
finance; commerce by which a man can grasp the totality of fractions,
and skim the profits before there are any. Gigantic idea! one way of
pouring hope into pint cups,--in short, a new necromancy! So far, we
have only got ten or a dozen hard heads initiated into the cabalistic
secrets of these magnificent combinations."

Cesar opened his eyes and ears, endeavoring to understand this composite
phraseology.

"Listen," said Claparon, after a pause. "Such master-strokes need men.
There's the man of genius who hasn't a sou--like all men of genius.
Those fellows spend their thoughts and spend their money just as it
comes. Imagine a pig rooting round a truffle-patch; he is followed by
a jolly fellow, a moneyed man, who listens for the grunt as piggy finds
the succulent. Now, when the man of genius has found a good thing, the
moneyed man taps him on the shoulder and says, 'What have you got there?
You are rushing into the fiery furnace, my good fellow, and you haven't
the loins to run out again. There's a thousand francs; just let me take
it in hand and manage the affair.' Very good! The banker then convokes
the traders: 'My fri