Mor Jokai

A Hungarian Nabob


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of apoplexy, with the aid of a hastily applied lancet, to do you out of your property, and place you in such an awkward position that you cannot find a single article in that thick code of laws of yours which will enable you to bring an action against your uncle, because he had the indecency not to die."

      "Then it is a scandal," cried Kárpáthy, leaping from his seat. "I have everywhere been proclaiming that I intend to bring an action."

      "Pray keep quiet," remarked the banker, blandly. "Every one believes what you say, but I must know the truth, because I am a banker. But I am accustomed to keep silence. The family relations of the Rajah of Nepaul in the East Indies are as well-known to me as is the mode of life of the greatest Spanish grandee, and it is as useful to me to know of the embarras de richesses of the one as of the splendour-environed poverty of the other. I know the position of every stranger who comes to Paris, wherever he may come from, or whatever racket he may make. During the last few days, two Hungarian counts have arrived here, who are on a walking tour through Europe; another is returning from America, and he travelled third class the whole way; but I know very well that the properties of these three gentlemen at home are in such excellent condition that they could lend me money if I wanted it. On the other hand, there rode through the Porte St. Denis quite recently, in a gilded carriage, drawn by white horses, and escorted by plumed outriders, a northern prince, whose name is on every one's lips; but I know very well that the poor devil carries about with him all the money he has, for his property has been sequestered on account of some political scandal."

      Kárpáthy impatiently interrupted the banker's speech.

      "Well, well!—but why should I be forced to listen to all this?"

      "It may serve to show you that there are and will be secrets at the bottom of the heart and the pocket, that the men who control the money market know things that they keep to themselves, and that although I am well aware of your delicate circumstances, you may tell the world quite another tale, and you'll find it will not doubt your word."

      "Enfin, of what use is that to me?"

      "Well," replied the banker, with a shrug, "I know very well that it would not trouble you much if the whole world knew of you what I know, if only I did not know it. You naturally come to me, intending to describe to me the symptoms of a disease entirely different to that from which you are actually suffering; but I am a practical doctor, who can read the symptoms of my patients from their faces. Suppose, now, I were able to cure you?"

      The bitter jest pleased Abellino. "Hum! feel my pulse then," he said jestingly, "but put your hand, not on my pulse, but in my pocket."

      "There is no necessity for that. Let us consider the symptoms. Are you not suffering a slight indigestion in consequence of an undigested debt of some three hundred thousand francs or so?"

      "You know I do. Give my creditors something to go away with."

      "But that would be hard on the poor fellows. You would not choke off your upholsterers, your coach-makers, and your horse-dealers because you can't pay them, I suppose? Would it not be juster to pay them up in full?"

      "How can I?" cried Abellino, furiously. "If only, like Don Juan de Castro, I could raise money on half of my moustache by sending it to Toledo! But I can't even do that, for I have cut it off."

      "And what will you do if they keep on dunning you?"

      "Blow my brains out; that's soon done."

      "Ah! don't do that. What would the world say if an eminent Hungarian nobleman were to blow his brains out for a matter of a paltry hundred thousand francs or two?"

      "And what would it say if they clapped him in gaol for these same paltry francs?"

      The banker smiled, and laid his hand on the young dandy's shoulder; then, in a confidential tone, he added—

      "Now we will try what we can do to save you."

      This smile, this condescending tap on the shoulder, revealed the parvenu most completely.

      The banker now took a seat beside him on the ample sofa, and thus obliged him to sit straight.

      "You require three hundred thousand francs," continued Monsieur Griffard, in a gentle, soothing voice, "and I suppose you will not be alarmed at the idea of paying me back six hundred thousand instead of that amount when you come into your property?"

      "Fi donc!" said Kárpáthy, contemptuously. A feeling of noble pride awoke within him for an instant, and he coldly withdrew his arm from the banker's hand. "You are only a usurer, after all," he added.

      The banker pocketed the affront with a smile, and tried to smooth the matter over with a jest.

      "The Latin proverb says, 'Bis dat qui cito dat—'He gives twice who gives quickly.' Why should I not wish to double my money? Besides, money is a sort of ware, and if you are at liberty to expect a tenfold return from grain that you have cast forth, why may you not expect as much from money that you have cast forth likewise? Take into consideration, moreover, that this is one of the hardiest speculations in the world. You may die before the kinsman you hope to inherit. You may be thrown from your horse at a fox-hunt or a steeplechase and break your neck; you may be shot through the head in a duel; or a fever or a cold may seize you, and I shall be obliged to go into mourning for my dear departed three hundred thousand francs. But let us go further. So far as you are concerned it is not enough that I pay your debts. You will want at least twice that amount to live upon every year. Good! I am ready to advance you that also."

      At these words Kárpáthy eagerly turned towards the banker again.

      "You are joking?"

      "Not in the least. I risk a million to gain two. I risk two millions to gain four, and so on. I speak frankly. I give much and I lose much. At the present moment you are in no better a position than Juan de Castro, who raised a loan on half his moustache from the Saracens of Toledo. Come now! an Hungarian gentleman's moustache is no worse than a Spaniard's. I will advance you on it as much as you command, and I'll boldly venture to doubt whether there is any one except myself and the Moors of Toledo who would do such a thing? I can answer for nobody imitating me."

      "Good! Let us come to terms," said Abellino taking the matter seriously. "You give me a million, and I'll give you a bond for two millions, payable when my uncle expires."

      "And if your uncle's vital thread in the hands of the Parcæ prove longer than the million in your hands?"

      "Then you shall give me another million, and so on. You will be investing your money well, for the Hungarian gentleman is the slave of his property, and can leave it to nobody but his lawful heir."

      "And are you quite certain that you will be the one lawful heir?"

      "None but me will bear the name of Kárpáthy after John Kárpáthy's death."

      "I know that; but John Kárpáthy may marry."

      Abellino burst out laughing. "You imagine my uncle to be a very amiable sort of cavalier."

      "Not at all. I know very well that he stands at the very brink of death, and that his vital machinery is so completely out of order that if he does not change his diet immediately, and give up his gluttonous habits, of which there is but little hope, I regret to say, he will scarcely live another year. Pardon me for anticipating so bluntly the decease of a dear relative!"

      "Go on, by all means."

      "We who have to do with life assurance transactions are in the habit of appraising the lives of people, and I am regarding your uncle's life just as if it had been insured in one of these institutions."

      "Your scruples are superfluous. I have no tender concern whatever for my uncle."

      The banker smiled. He knew that even better than Abellino.

      "I said just now that your uncle might marry. It would not be a very rare occurrence. It often happens that elderly gentlemen, who for eighty years have regarded matrimony with horror, suddenly, in a tender moment, offer their hands