I’m not saying we had to go to war with Prussia to stop it getting fat at Denmark’s expense; but there were some possibilities for action… Yes, indeed, when big fish start eating the little fish you can’t tell where it will all end* … And as for Mexico…’*

Pillerault, who was enjoying one of his days of total contentment, interrupted him with a roar of laughter:

‘Oh, no, my dear chap, don’t bother us any more with your terrors over Mexico; that will be the most glorious page in the history of the reign…* Where the devil do you get the idea that the Empire is sick? Didn’t the three hundred million loan get covered more than fifteen times over, back in January?* An overwhelming success!… Anyway, let’s talk again in ’67, yes, in three years’ time, when they’ll be opening the Universal Exhibition the Emperor has just announced.’

‘Things are really bad, I tell you,’ Moser insisted in desperation.

‘Oh, give it a rest, everything’s fine.’

Salmon looked from one to the other, smiling with his air of profundity. And Saccard, who had been listening to them, began to connect the difficulties of his own personal situation with the crisis the Empire seemed to be heading for. He had been brought down once again: and this Empire that had created him, was that too going to tumble, suddenly crumbling from the highest down to the most wretched of destinies? Ah, for twelve years now he had loved and defended this regime, feeling himself living and growing, and swelling with sap, like a tree with its roots plunged deep in the nourishing earth. But if his brother intended to uproot him, if he was to be cut off from those who enjoyed the fruits of that rich soil, then let it all be swept away in the final grand debacle that marks the end of nights of festivity.

Now he was just waiting for his asparagus, quite detached from this room with its ever-increasing bustle, lost in his memories. In a big mirror on the opposite wall he had just seen his reflection, and it had surprised him. Age didn’t seem to have made any impression on his slight figure; at fifty he looked no more than thirty-eight, still as slim and lively as any young man. Indeed, with the years his dark and hollowed marionette face, with its pointed nose and narrow, gleaming eyes, seemed to have taken on the charm of this persistent youthfulness, so supple, so active, his hair still thick, with no trace of grey. And inevitably he recalled his arrival in Paris, immediately after the coup d’état,* that winter evening when he had found himself out on the street, with empty pockets, ravenously hungry, and tormented by all sorts of raging appetites. Oh! that first race through the streets when, even before unpacking his trunk, he had had to launch himself upon the city, in his worn-out boots and greasy overcoat, eager to conquer it! Since that evening he had risen in the world many times, and a river of millions of francs had flowed through his hands, but he had never been able to make fortune his slave, like a personal possession, at his disposal, alive, real, and kept under lock and key. His coffers had always been full of lies and fictions, with mysterious holes that seemed to drain away their gold. And now here he was back on the street again, just as he started out long ago, just as young, just as hungry, never satisfied, and still tortured by the same need for pleasures and conquests. He had tasted everything without ever satisfying his appetite, never, he thought, having had the time and opportunity to bite deeply enough into people and things. Now he felt quite wretched, a good deal worse off than a mere beginner, who would have hope and illusion to sustain him. He was seized by a frenzied desire to start all over again, to conquer once more, to rise even higher than before and at last plant his foot firmly on the conquered city. No longer with the façade of mendacious wealth but the solid edifice of fortune, the true royalty of gold, reigning over well-filled bags of wealth.

Then the voice of Moser was heard once more, harsh and very sharp, drawing Saccard out of his reflections.

‘The Mexico expedition is costing fourteen million a month, that’s been proved by Thiers*… and you’d have to be blind not to see that the majority in the Chamber has been shaken. There are more than thirty now on the Left. The Emperor himself has seen that absolute power has become impossible, since he now presents himself as the champion of liberty.’*

Pillerault had ceased to respond, now just sneering contemptuously.

‘Yes, I know, the market seems solid enough to you, and business is good. But wait for the end… You’ll see there’s been altogether too much demolition and rebuilding in Paris! These great public works have exhausted our savings. As for the powerful financial houses that seem so prosperous, just wait until one of them goes down and you’ll see them all collapsing one after another… Not to mention the fact that the people are restive. This International Workingmen’s Association* which has just been founded to improve conditions for the workers, that really frightens me. There’s a protest movement, a revolutionary movement here in France, and it’s growing stronger every day… I tell you, the worm is in the fruit. Everything is going to go bust.’

This provoked a roar of protest. That blasted Moser was decidedly liverish. But even while he spoke, Moser’s eyes never left the table at which Mazaud and Amadieu, in spite of all the noise, were still talking quietly. Gradually the whole room began to be concerned about this very long, confidential chat. What could they have to say that needed all that whispering? Amadieu, no doubt, must be placing orders, preparing some financial coup. Over the last three days disturbing rumours had been circulating about the Suez project.* Moser narrowed his eyes, and he too lowered his voice to say:

‘You know, the English want to stop all the work there. There could well be war.’

This time Pillerault was shaken by the very enormity of this piece of news. It was incredible, and immediately the word flew from table to table, acquiring the force of certainty: England had sent an ultimatum demanding the immediate cessation of work. That must obviously have been what Amadieu was talking to Mazaud about, giving him the order to sell all his Suez holdings.