He
returned the leather case to its original place and devoted his
attention to the cylinder-shaped papers on the floor.
For a quarter of an hour Johann remained seated on the floor, in
the wavering candle light, forgetful of all save the delicate
tracings of steel engraving, the red and green inks, the great
golden seal, the signatures, the immensity of the ciphers which
trailed halfway across each crackling parchment. He counted
sixteen of them in all. Four millions of crowns. . . . He was
rich, rich beyond all his wildest dreams.
He rose, and restored the gun to its case. Fifty crowns? No, no!
A hundred thousand, not a crown less; a hundred thousand! all
thoughts of the green baize and the rattle of the roulette ball
passed away. There was no need to seek fortune; she had come to
him of her own free will. Wine, Gertrude of the opera, Paris and
a life of ease; all these were his. A hundred thousand crowns, a
hundred thousand florins, two hundred thousand francs, two
hundred thousand marks! He computed in all monetary
denominations; in all countries it was wealth.
Something rose and swelled in his throat, and he choked
hysterically.
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