window; and the very hangings, dipped in this Pactolus, kept on their
straight folds the rigidity, the sparkle of a metal. But nothing bearing
the least personal stamp, nothing intimate, nothing thought out. The
monotonous luxury of the furnished flat. And there was a re-enforcement
of this impression of a moving camp, of a merely provisory home, in the
suggestion of travel which hovered like an uncertainty or a menace over
this fortune derived from far-off sources.

Coffee having been served, in the Eastern manner, with all its grounds,
in little cups filigreed with silver, the guests grouped themselves
round, making haste to drink, scalding themselves, keeping watchful eyes
on each other and especially on the Nabob as they looked out for the
favourable moment to spring upon him, draw him into some corner of those
immense rooms, and at length negotiate their loan. For this it was that
they had been awaiting for two hours; this was the object of their visit
and the fixed idea which gave them during the meal that absent, falsely
attentive manner. But here no more constraint, no more pretence. In that
peculiar social world of theirs it is of common knowledge that in the
Nabob's busy life the hour of coffee remains the only time free for
private audiences, and each desiring to profit by it, all having come
there in order to snatch a handful of wool from the golden fleece
offered them with so much good nature, people no longer talk, they no
longer listen, every man is absorbed in his own errand of business.

It is the good Jenkins who begins. Having drawn his friend Jansoulet
aside into a recess, he submits to him the estimates for the house at
Nanterre. A big purchase, indeed! A cash price of a hundred and fifty
thousand francs, then considerable expenses in connection with getting
the place into proper order, the personal staff, the bedding, the
nanny-goats for milking purposes, the manager's carriage, the omnibuses