Furious, with noses in their cups, the others watch this little scene from a distance.  Then, as Jenkins takes his departure, bright, smiling, with a nod to the various groups, Monpavon seizes the governor:  “Now is our chance.”  And both, springing on the Nabob, drag him off towards a couch, oblige him almost forcibly to sit down, press upon each side of him with a ferocious little laugh that seems to signify, “What shall we do with him now?” Get the money out of him, the largest amount possible.  It is needed, to set afloat once more the Territorial Bank, for years lain aground on a sand-bank, buried to the very top of its masts.  A superb operation, this re-flotation, if these two gentlemen are to be believed, for the submerged bank is full of ingots, of precious things, of the thousand various forms of wealth of a new country discussed by everybody and known by none.

In founding this unique establishment, Paganetti of Porto-Vecchio had as his aim to monopolize the commercial development of the whole of Corsica:  iron mines, sulphur mines, copper mines, marble quarries, coral fisheries, oyster beds, water ferruginous and sulphurous, immense forests of thuya, of cork-oak, and to establish for the facilitation of this development a network of railways over the island, with a service of packet-boats in addition.  Such is the gigantic undertaking to which he has devoted himself.  He has sunk considerable capital in it, and it is the new-comer, the workman of the last hour, who will gain the whole profit.

While with his Italian accent and violent gestures the Corsican enumerates the “splendours” of the affair, Monpavon, haughty, and with an air calculated to command confidence, nods his head approvingly with conviction, and from time to time, when he judges the moment propitious, throws into the conversation the name of the Duc de Mora, which never fails in its effect on the Nabob.

“Well, in short, how much would be required?”

“Millions,” says Monpavon boldly, in the tone of a man who would have no difficulty in addressing himself elsewhere.  “Yes, millions; but the enterprise is magnificent.  And, as his excellency was saying, it would provide even a political position.  Just think!  In that district without a metallic currency, you might become counsellor-general, deputy.”  The Nabob gives a start.  And the little Paganetti, who feels the bait quiver on his hook:  “Yes, deputy.  You will be that whenever I choose.  At a sign from me all Corsica is at your disposal.”  Then he launches out into an astonishing improvisation, counting the votes which he controls, the cantons which will obey his call.  “You bring me your capital.  I—­I give you an entire people.”  The cause is gained.