a hundred thousand crowns are not found “in a donkey’s hoof-print,” and if croisilles had been suspicious he might have thought in reading mademoiselle godeau’s letter that she was either crazy or laughing at him. he thought neither, for he only saw in it that his darling julie loved him, and that he must have a hundred thousand crowns, and he dreamed from that moment of nothing but trying to secure them.
he possessed two hundred louis in cash, plus a house which, as i have said, might be worth about thirty thousand francs. what was to be done? how was he to go about transfiguring these thirty-four thousand francs, at a jump, into three hundred thousand. the first idea which came into the mind of the young man was to find some way of staking his whole fortune on the toss-up of a coin, but for that he must sell the house. croisilles therefore began by putting a notice upon the door, stating that his house was for sale; then, while dreaming what he would do with the money that he would get for it, he awaited a purchaser.
a week went by, then another; not a single purchaser applied. more and more distressed, croisilles spent these days with jean, and despair was taking possession of him once more, when a jewish broker rang at the door.
“this house is for sale, sir, is it not? are you the owner of it?”
“yes, sir.”
“and how much is it worth?”
“thirty thousand francs, i believe; at least i have heard my father say so.”
the jew visited all the rooms, went upstairs and down into the cellar, knocking on the walls, counting the steps of the staircase, turning the doors on their hinges and the keys in their locks, opening and closing the windows; then, at last, after having thoroughly examined everything, without saying a word and without making the slightest proposal, he bowed to croisilles and retired.
croisilles, who for a whole hour had followed him with a palpitating heart, as may be imagined, was not a little disappointed at this silent retreat. he thought that perhaps the jew had wished to give himself time to reflect and that he would return presently. he waited a week for him, not daring to go out for fear of missing his visit, and looking out of the windows from morning till night. but it was in vain; the jew did not reappear. jean, true to his unpleasant rôle of adviser, brought moral pressure to bear to dissuade his master from selling his house in so hasty a manner and for so extravagant a purpose. dying of impatience, ennui, and love, croisilles one morning took his two hundred louis and went out, determined to tempt fortune with this sum, since he could not have more.
the gaming-houses at that time were not public, and that refinement of civilization which enables the first comer to ruin himself at all hours, as soon as the wish enters his mind, had not yet been invented.
scarcely was croisilles in the street before he stopped, not knowing where to go to stake his money. he looked at the houses of the neighborhood, and eyed them, one after the other, striving to discover suspicious appearances that might point out to him the object of his search. a good-looking young man, splendidly dressed, happened to pass. judging from his mien, he was certainly a young man of gentle blood and ample leisure, so croisilles politely accosted him.
“sir,” he said, “i beg your pardon for the liberty i take. i have two hundred louis in my pocket and i am dying either to lose them or win more. could you not point out to me some respectable place where such things are done?”
at this rather strange speech the young man burst out laughing.
“upon my word, sir!” answered he, “if you are seeking any such wicked place you have but to follow me, for that is just where i am going.”
croisilles followed him, and a few steps farther they both entered a house of very attractive appearance, where they were received hospitably by an old gentleman of the highest breeding.
several young men were already seated round a green cloth. croisilles modestly took a place there, and in less than an hour his two hundred louis were gone.
he came out as sad as a lover can be who thinks himself beloved. he had not enough to dine with, but that did not cause him any anxiety.
“what can i do now,” he asked himself, “to get money? to whom shall i address myself in this town? who will lend me even a hundred louis on this house that i can not sell?”
while he was in this quandary, he met his jewish broker. he did not hesitate to address him, and, featherhead as he was, did not fail to tell him the plight he was in.
the jew did not much want to buy the house; he had come to see it only through curiosity, or, to speak more exactly, for the satisfaction of his own conscience, as a passing dog goes into a kitchen, the door of which stands open, to see if there is anything to steal. but when he saw croisilles so despondent, so sad, so bereft of all resources, he could not resist the temptation to put himself to some inconvenience, even, in order to pay for the house. he therefore offered him about one-fourth of its value. croisilles fell upon his neck, called him his friend and saviour, blindly signed a bargain that would have made one’s hair stand on end, and, on the very next day, the possessor of four hundred new louis, he once more turned his steps toward the gambling-house where he had been so politely and speedily ruined the night before.
on his way, he passed by the wharf. a vessel was about leaving; the wind was gentle, the ocean tranquil. on all sides, merchants, sailors, officers in uniform were coming and going. porters were carrying enormous bales of merchandise. passengers and their friends were exchanging farewells, small boats were rowing about in all directions; on every face could be read fear, impatience, or hope; and, amidst all the agitation which surrounded it, the majestic vessel swayed gently to and fro under the wind that swelled her proud sails.
“what a grand thing it is,” thought croisilles, “to risk all one possesses and go beyond the sea, in perilous search of fortune! how it fills me with emotion to look at this vessel setting out on her voyage, loaded with so much wealth, with the welfare of so many families! what joy to see her come back again, bringing twice as much as was intrusted to her, returning so much prouder and richer than she went away! why am i not one of those merchants? why could i not stake my four hundred louis in this way? this immense sea! what a green cloth, on which to boldly tempt fortune! why should i not myself buy a few bales of cloth or silk? what is to prevent my doing so, since i have gold? why should this captain refuse to take charge of my merchandise? and who knows? instead of going and throwing away this—my little all—in a gambling-house, i might double it, i might triple it, perhaps, by honest industry. if julie truly loves me, she will wait a few years, she will remain true to me until i am able to marry her. commerce sometimes yields greater profits than one thinks; examples are wanting in this world of wealth gained with astonishing rapidity in this way on the changing waves—why should providence not bless an endeavor made for a purpose so laudable, so worthy of his assistance? among these merchants who have accumulated so much and who send their vessels to the ends of the world, more than one has begun with a smaller sum than i have now. they have prospered with the help of god; why should i not prosper in my turn? it seems to me as though a good wind were filling these sails, and this vessel inspires confidence. come! the die is cast; i will speak to the captain, who seems to be a good fellow; i will then write to julie, and set out to become a clever and successful trader.”
the greatest danger incurred by those who are habitually but half crazy, is that of becoming, at times, altogether so.
the poor fellow, without further deliberation, put his whim into execution. to find goods to buy, when one has money and knows nothing about the goods, is the easiest thing in the world.
the captain, to oblige croisilles, took him to one of his friends, a manufacturer, who sold him as much cloth and silk as he could pay for. the whole of it, loaded upon a cart, was promptly taken on board. croisilles, delighted and full of hope, had himself written in large letters his name upon the bales. he watched them being put on board with inexpressible joy; the hour of departure soon came, and the vessel weighed anchor.
