F. I have nothing to do with Croesus; my character, by its insignificance, is safe from any slanders of Zoilus; and as to Mondor—­

B. Ah! now I have it.  How could I be so blind?  You, too, are the inventor of a social reorganization—­of the F——­ system, in fact.  Your society is to be more perfect than that of Sparta, and, therefore, all money is to be rigidly banished from it.  And the thing that troubles you is, how to persuade your people to empty their purses.  What would you have?  This is the rock on which all reorganizers split.  There is not one, but would do wonders, if he could only contrive to overcome all resisting influences, and if all mankind would consent to become soft wax in his fingers; but men are resolved not to be soft wax; they listen, applaud, or reject, and—­go on as before.

F. Thank heaven, I am still free from this fashionable mania.  Instead of inventing social laws, I am studying those which it has pleased Providence to invent, and I am delighted to find them admirable in their progressive development.  This is why I exclaim, “Hateful money! hateful money!”

B. You are a disciple of Proudhon, then?  Well, there is a very simple way for you to satisfy yourself.  Throw your purse into the Seine, only reserving a hundred sous, to take an action from the Bank of Exchange.

F. If I cry out against money, is it likely I should tolerate its deceitful substitute?

B. Then I have only one more guess to make.  You are a new Diogenes, and are going to victimize me with a discourse a la Seneca, on the contempt of riches.

F. Heaven preserve me from that!  For riches, don’t you see, are not a little more or a little less money.  They are bread for the hungry, clothes for the naked, fuel to warm you, oil to lengthen the day, a career open to your son, a certain portion for your daughter, a day of rest after fatigue, a cordial for the faint, a little assistance slipped into the hand of a poor man, a shelter from the storm, a diversion for a brain worn by thought, the incomparable pleasure of making those happy who are dear to us.  Riches are instruction, independence, dignity, confidence, charity; they are progress, and civilization.  Riches are the admirable civilizing result of two admirable agents, more civilizing even than riches themselves—­labour and exchange.

B. Well! now you seem to be singing the praises of riches, when, a moment ago, you were loading them with imprecations!

F. Why, don’t you see that it was only the whim of an economist?  I cry out against money, just because everybody confounds it, as you did just now, with riches, and that this confusion is the cause of errors and calamities without number.  I cry out against it because its function in society is not understood, and very difficult to explain.  I cry out against it, because it jumbles all ideas, causes the means to be taken for the end, the obstacle for