M. Fille was like a
little cruiser protecting a fort when gunboats swarm near, not daring to
attack till their battleship heaves in sight. The battleship was the
Big Financier, who saw that a wreck was now inevitable, and was only
concerned that there should be a fair distribution of the assets. That
meant, of course, that he should be served first, and then that those
below the salt should get a share.
Revelation after revelation had been Jean Jacques' lot of late years,
but the final revelation of his own impotence was overwhelming. When
he began to stir about among his affairs, he was faced by the fact that
the law stood in his way. He realized with inward horror his shattered
egotism and natural vanity; he saw that he might just as well be in jail;
that he had no freedom; that he could do nothing at all in regard to
anything he owned; that he was, in effect, a prisoner of war where
he had been the general commanding an army.
Yet the old pride intervened, and it was associated with some innate
nobility; for from the hour in which it was known that Sebastian Dolores
had escaped in a steamer bound for France, and could not be overhauled,
and the chances were that he would never have to yield up the six
thousand dollars, Jean Jacques bustled about cheerfully, and as though
he had still great affairs of business to order and regulate.
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