uffer for you. He tried to fluff even
us. One would really think he took us for his readers."

They reached the boulevard, and the reporter observed: "Will you have a
drink?"

"Certainly. It is awfully hot."

They turned into a _cafe_ and ordered cooling drinks. Saint-Potin began
to talk. He talked about the paper and everyone connected with it with
an abundance of astonishing details.

"The governor? A regular Jew? And you know, nothing can alter a Jew.
What a breed!" And he instanced some astounding traits of avariciousness
peculiar to the children of Israel, economies of ten centimes, petty
bargaining, shameful reductions asked for and obtained, all the ways of
a usurer and pawnbroker.

"And yet with all this, a good fellow who believes in nothing and does
everyone. His paper, which is Governmental, Catholic, Liberal,
Republican, Orleanist, pay your money and take your choice, was only
started to help him in his speculations on the Bourse, and bolster up
his other schemes. At that game he is very clever, and nets millions
through companies without four sous of genuine capital."

He went on, addressing Duroy as "My dear fellow."

"And he says things worthy of Balzac, the old shark. Fancy, the other
day I was in his room with that old tub Norbert, and that Don Quixote
Rival, when Montelin, our business manager, came in with his morocco
bill-case, that bill-case that everyone in Paris knows, under his arm.
Walter raised his head and asked: 'What news?' Montelin answered simply:
'I have just paid the sixteen thousand francs we owed the paper maker.'
The governor gave a jump, an astonishing jump. 'What do you mean?' said
he. 'I have just paid Monsieur Privas,' replied Montelin. 'But you are
mad.' 'Why?' 'Why--why--why--' he took off his spectacles and wiped
them. Then he smiled with that queer smile that flits across his fat
cheeks whenever he is going to say something deep or smart, and went on
in a mocking and derisive tone, 'Why? Because we could have obtained a
reduction of from four to five thousand francs.' Montelin replied, in
astonishment: 'But, sir, all the accounts were correct, checked by me
and passed by yourself.' Then the governor, quite serious again,
observed: 'What a fool you are. Don't you know, Monsieur Montelin, that
one should always let one's debts mount up, in order to offer a
composition?'"

And Saint-Potin added, with a knowing shake of his head, "Eh! isn't that
worthy of Balzac?"

Dur