No one can imagine to what epileptic contortions the loss of money
can drive an assemblage of men, who has not seen a meeting of
shareholders on the morrow of a great disaster, with their clinched
fists, their convulsed faces, their glaring eyes, and foaming lips.

They felt indignant at what had once been their delight. They laid
the blame of their ruin upon the splendor of the house, the
sumptuousness of the stairs, the candelabras of the vestibule, the
carpets, the chairs, every thing.

"And it is our money too," they cried, "that has paid for all that!"

Standing upon a bench, a little short man was exciting transports
of indignation by describing the magnificence of the Baron de
Thaller's residence, where he had once had some dealings.

He had counted five carriages in the carriage-house, fifteen horses
in the stables, and Heaven knows how many servants.

He had never been inside the apartments, but he had visited the
kitchen; and he declared that he had been dazzled by the number
and brightness of the saucepans, ranged in order of size over
the furnace.

Gathered in a group under the vestibule, the most sensible deplored
their rash confidence.

"That's the way," concluded one, "with all these adventurous affairs."

"That's a fact. There's nothing, after all, like government bonds."

"Or a first mortgage on good property, with subrogation of the wife's
rights."

But what exasperated them all was not to be admitted to the presence
of M. de Thaller, and to see that servant mounting guard before
the door.

"What impudence," they growled, "to leave us on the stairs!--we who
are the masters, after all."

"Who knows where M. de Thaller may be?"

"He is hiding, of course."

"No matter: I will see him," clamored a big fat man, with a
brick-colored face, "if I shouldn't stir from here for a week."

"You'll see nothing at all," giggled his neighbor. "Do you suppose
they don't have back-stairs and private entrances in this infernal
shop?"

"Ah! if I believed any thing of the kind," exclaimed the big man
in a voice trembling with passion. "I'd soon break in some of these
doors: it isn't so hard, after all."

Already he was gazing at the servant with an alarming air, when an
old gentleman with a discreet look, stepped up to him, and inquired,

"Excuse me, sir: how many shares have you?"

"Three," answered the man with the brick-colored face.

The other sighed.

"I have two hundred and fifty,"