oft before 'the heat is out of the grass,' as the peasants say; the
hay ferments, but no harm comes of it. You follow up your experiment by
storing a couple of thousand trusses in a wooden barn--and, of course,
the hay smoulders, and the barn blazes up like a lighted match. You are
an educated man," continued Cointet; "you can see the application for
yourself. So far, you have only cut your two trusses of hay; we are
afraid of setting fire to our paper-mill by bringing in a couple of
thousand trusses. In other words, we may spoil more than one batch, make
heavy losses, and find ourselves none the better for laying out a good
deal of money."

David was completely floored by this reasoning. Practical wisdom spoke
in matter-of-fact language to theory, whose word is always for the
future.

"Devil fetch me, if I'll sign such a deed of partnership!" the stout
Cointet cried bluntly. "You may throw away your money if you like,
Boniface; as for me, I shall keep mine. Here is my offer--to pay M.
Sechard's debts _and_ six thousand francs, and another three thousand
francs in bills at twelve and fifteen months," he added. "That will be
quite enough risk to run.--We have a balance of twelve thousand francs
against Metivier. That will make fifteen thousand francs.--That is
all that I would pay for the secret if I were going to exploit it for
myself. So this is the great discovery that you were talking about,
Boniface! Many thanks! I thought you had more sense. No, you can't call
this business."

"The question for you," said Petit-Claud, undismayed by the explosion,
"resolves itself into this: 'Do you care to risk twenty thousand francs
to buy a secret that may make rich men of you?' Why, the risk usually is
in proportion to the profit, gentlemen. You stake twenty thousand francs
on your luck. A gambler puts down a louis at roulette for a chance of
winning thirty-six, but he knows that the louis is lost. Do the same."

"I must have time to think it over," said the stout Cointet; "I am not
so clever as my brother. I am a plain, straight-forward sort of chap,
that only knows one thing--how to print prayer-books at twenty sous and
sell them for two francs. Where I see an invention that has only been
tried once, I see ruin. You succeed with the first batch, you spoil the
next, you go on, and you are drawn in; for once put an arm into that
machinery, the rest of you follows," and he related an anecdote very
much to the point--how a Bor