n
contains the germ of much truth, and is, to an experienced man, in a
measure prophetic.

The young head of the house did not set much store by the
counting-house business. He had higher aims. He lived on the first
floor in luxurious bachelor chambers; his sitting-room was a museum,
and his writing-table was crowded with bronzes and antiques; his
inkstand was a masterpiece of Benvenuto Cellini's--or, perhaps, a
good imitation in galvanized plaster; his pen was gold, with a
diamond top; he used gold sand for blotting-paper; the sand-sifter
was made of porphyry, the pen-holder was a branch of real coral, the
paper-weight a mosaic from Pompeii, the candle-shades of real
crystal, the cover of the blotting-book Japanese. Every article had
a value of its own, from the Turkish paper knife to the paper
itself, which was of all sorts and descriptions, from the thickest
vellum to the most delicate straw note, perfumed with mignonette and
musk. In spite of these elaborate arrangements, no one had ever been
known to write at this so-called writing-table. The science
cultivated by Felix Kaulmann did not require the use of pen and ink;
it was purely mental work. Felix worked night and day; during his
sleep, even, he worked, but no trace of his labor was to be found on
paper. When he amused himself--dancing, riding, making love--he
seemed altogether occupied with the subject on hand; he worked,
nevertheless, all the time. He had a certain goal at which he was
aiming; for this he lived, for this he strove, and this alone
aroused his interest and his enthusiasm; he never forgot for one
moment the aim of his life. He had something more to do than to make
a pen travel over paper; he had to move men.

One day, not long after the events in the Castle of Bondavara, the
Abbe Samuel was seated in Felix Kaulmann's room. Both were engaged in
serious conversation. Before them an elegant equipage of fragrant
Mocha, whose fumes mingled with that of the Latakia, which our friend
the abbe smoked from a genuine Turkish pipe. Felix only smoked cigars.

"Well, here is your agreement with the countess. As you wished for
thirty-two years, it is regularly drawn up. And now I should like to
know of what use it can possibly be to either you or your company. It
is not enough for the countess to sign it; it wants the signature of
the prince to make the contract advantageous to you, for the countess
has only a life-interest in the Bondavara property. As so