THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
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“So,” Douglas resumed, “you quite understand what my system was. In principle, I wished to be a banker to turn to account the funds that passed through my hands. I acquired on my own account properties which I fancied I could resell at a profit. My system of fictitious names answered all requirements: by the aid of these names I was able to deal with all who applied to me; I have been, according to the opportunity, lender, borrower, purchaser, and seller. Whenever the funds raised by my personal credit or the credit I had procured for the fictitious individuals did not suffice for my needs, I obtained others by negotiating supposed loans on behalf of no matter who, relative, friend, or client, being careful later on to release that person’s property, the same as I had mortgaged it, unbeknown to himself. In a word, my office became a banking establishment.”
“A thieving establishment,” exclaimed Marius, “a forger’s den!”
Douglas shrugged his shoulders.
“You ought by now to understand me,” he said, “and to see that I never sought to rob a single one of my clients. I have a hope that you will do me justice by and by. I have now to tell you about my finest invention. To administer the properties acquired and turn the borrowed monies to good account, I conceived the idea of establishing agents acting under power of attorney, who would represent in all matters my forty imaginary personages; and to fill these posts I selected honourable young men, who became my unconscious accomplices. I had faith in my system; and I should most certainly have enriched those who assisted me if unfortunate circumstances had not marred my success. When I proposed to you to represent Authier, I desired solely, as I have already told you, to come to your assistance and give you a share in the profits of a speculation which I considered an excellent one.”
These last words exasperated Marius. He could bear it no longer, and felt he would go mad if he continued to follow Douglas’ strange talk.
“I have listened to you patiently,” he said, shaking with indignation. “The rascalities you have been telling me of, with such cool impudence, prove to my mind that you are either a fool or a rogue.”
“Not at all!” interrupted the notary, striking the table with his fist. “You have certainly not understood me. I have told you four or five times, I’m a banker. Listen to me, for goodness sake.”
Douglas rose and placed himself before Marius. There was nothing in his attitude to indicate either fear or shame.
“You have called me a rogue and a thief,” said he softly, “and I let you insult me, for you were accusing me in the name of society, speaking as the crown attorney would speak when judging my conduct from the legal standpoint. You must look at it from another point of view, if you would understand me. Let us reason a bit. A thief is he who steals another’s property and makes off when his pockets are full, is he not? I have never for a moment thought of stealing. I have been applying my system during six years, and I am poorer now than when I first began; my operations have not succeeded, I have even lost some thousands of francs which were my own. You know what my life has been: I have lived on bread and water; I have led the existence of an austere and indefatigable worker. The only luxury I have allowed myself has been to give a little in charity. A strange thief, indeed, who has lived in his office as in a cloister and who has handled enormous sums of money without even being tempted to steal a copper! Admit that if I were really a thief, I should long ago have got together what funds I could and have bolted.”
Marius felt surprised and embarrassed. He had not looked at the matter in that light. The man was evidently right: he could not be accused of robbery.
“What shocks and incenses you,” resumed Douglas, “is my system itself. It has failed, and I shall be considered a great criminal; if it had succeeded, I should have realized a large fortune without doing the slightest injury to anyone. I should have been immensely rich and the world would have esteemed me. Yes, crime has been my base of operation, I have speculated on forgery, I have followed a new and bold line. But to my mind success was certain. I had faith in my activity, it never occurred to me that I might drag another down in my fall. That is wherein I was blind. You see my course of proceeding: I took mortgages on property which did not exist or which had already been mortgaged, but I paid the interest on the money invested; I put forged bills into circulation, but I took them up at maturity; my imaginary personages were, so to say, nothing more than borrowed names to cover myself, and I made use of them simply to increase my speculations. Understand me well: I wished above all to procure funds and turn them to account; what matter the fictitious securities I emitted, the forged documents, the different means I employed to extend my credit and the sphere of my business. In speculation, the only reality is the profit one is able to draw, more or less skilfully, from a given capital. Take the Stock Exchange, for instance, there one trades on mere suppositions. Admit for a moment that by buying and selling properties, by means of other people’s money, I had succeeded in doubling the capital I had illegally procured: I should have refunded that capital in full, have robbed nobody, destroyed the forged documents, and have retired with a fortune won by my labour and intelligence. That’s my system in its entirety. Having no fortune of my own, I was obliged to borrow of my clients the principal necessary for carrying on my operations. It was no theft, but a mere loan.”
On hearing Douglas’ clear and logical reasoning, a kind of terror crept over Marius. The notary grew terribly in his eyes. For a moment, he looked upon him as some misguided genius who had employed his rare faculties of and daring in the cause of evil. Had the man had large means of action he might perhaps have accomplished great things. There are some superior qualities residing in all criminals of Douglas’ calibre. Marius was above all surprised by the simple and natural manner in which the notary spoke of the forgeries he had committed. His mind was undoubtedly disordered. The man was ill, the fever of speculation which devoured him had brought him little by little to look upon crime as an excellent medium, provided the crime remained concealed and unpunished. He had said it himself: though he had forged, he still considered himself an honest man, so long as he caused no one to lose anything. After a pause, Douglas went on, shaking his head the while:
“Systems are always splendid, practice alone opens your eyes to their defects. In theory, I should have won an immense fortune. I don’t know how it has happened, but I am now overwhelmed with debt, and I can see very well that all hope is gone. My unfortunate operations have swallowed up over a million, and my clients are ruined.”
The notary’s voice had grown feebler, and emotion was filling his eyes with tears. He walked feverishly up and down, and, as he did so, continued:
“You’ve no idea what a frightful life I’ve been leading these past two years. Every one of my operations failed, and I found myself face to face with terrible exigencies. To preserve my credit, to conceal my forgeries, I have been daily obliged to commit others. I no longer dreamed of making money, I only thought of defending myself and escaping the galleys. I take heaven to witness that had I been able to get back the money that was lost, I would have reimbursed everyone, and then lived as a law-abiding citizen. But the enormous amount of interest I had to pay crushed me; I resold at a loss the properties I had acquired; in spite of my struggles, ill-luck has clung to me and weighed me down to the very depths of ruin. Today my liabilities are considerable, I cannot meet this fortnight’s bills, and, for me, a suspension of payment means penal servitude. If the authorities were ever to examine my papers, I should be at once arrested and put in prison.”
Marius almost felt disposed to pity the wretch. Douglas sat down again and resumed dejectedly:
“After all, though, this is the end. I’ve confessed to you and I know that you’re about to hand me over to justice. Let it be so, for my position is no longer bearable. You’re right, I’m a scoundrel and I ought to be punished.”
Marius did not stir. He was reflecting, uncertain how to act. One fear stayed him, he did not wish to be mixed up in the matter in case he should be called as a witness, and thus lose precious time which belonged to his mission. Moreover, it was not his business to denounce the notary. There was no escape now for the man, he was fatally on the road to his punishment, and would fall of his own accord into his judges’ hands.
“Well! why do you hesitate?”