es in their cups and rage in their hearts,
watch this little scene from afar. And when Jenkins takes his leave,
bright and smiling, and waving his hand to the different groups,
Monpavon seizes the Governor: "Now, it's our turn." And they pounce
together upon the Nabob, lead him to a divan, force him to sit down,
and squeeze him between them with a savage little laugh that seems to
mean: "What are we going to do to him?" Extract money from him, as much
of it as possible. It must be had in order to float the _Caisse
Territorial_, which has been aground for years, buried in sand to her
masthead. A magnificent operation, this of floating her again, if we
are to believe these two gentlemen; for the buried craft is full of
ingots, of valuable merchandise, of the thousand varied treasures of a
new country of which every one is talking and of which no one knows
anything. The aim of Paganetti of Porto-Vecchio in founding that
unrivalled establishment was to monopolize the exploitation of Corsica:
iron mines, sulphur mines, copper mines, marble quarries, chalybeate
and sulphur springs, vast forests of lignum vitae and oak; and to
facilitate that exploitation by building a network of railroads
throughout the island, and establishing a line of steamboats. Such was
the gigantic enterprise to which he has harnessed himself. He has sunk
a large amount of money in it, and the new-comer, the laborer of the
eleventh hour, will reap the whole profit.

While the Corsican with his Italian accent, his frantic gestures,
enumerates the _splendores_ of the affair, Monpavon, dignified and
haughty, nods his head with an air of conviction, and from time to
time, when he deems the moment propitious, tosses into the conversation
the name of the Duc de Mora, which always produces its effect on the
Nabob.

"Well, what is it that you need?"

"Millions," says Monpavon superbly, in the tone of a man who is not
embarrassed by any lack of persons to whom to apply. "Yes, millions.
But it's a magnificent opening. And, as His Excellency said, it would
afford a capitalist an opportunity to attain a lofty position, even a
political position. Just consider a moment! in that penniless country.
One might become a member of the General Council, a Deputy--" The Nabob
starts. And little Paganetti, feeling the bait tremble on his hook,
continues: "Yes, a Deputy; you shall be one when I choose. At a word
from me all Corsica is at your service." Thereupon he launches