“You think I am despondent because I have been working too long in the heat,” said the young man, rising and beginning to pace the floor before Orsino.  “No.  I am not that kind of man.  I am never tired.  I can go on for ever.  But affairs in Rome will not go on for ever.  I tell you that, Don Orsino.  There is trouble in the air.  I wish we had sold everything and could wait.  It would be much better.”

“All this is very vague, Contini.”

“It is very clear to me.  Matters are going from bad to worse.  There is no doubt that Ronco has failed.”

“Well, and if he has?  We are not Ronco.  He was involved in all sorts of other speculations.  If he had stuck to land and building he would be as sound as ever.”

“For another month, perhaps.  Do you know why he is ruined?”

“By his own fault, as people always are.  He was rash.”

“No rasher than we are.  I believe that the game is played out.  Ronco is bankrupt because the bank with which he deals cannot discount any more bills this week.”

“And why not?”

“Because the foreign banks will not take any more of all this paper that is flying about.  Those small failures in the summer have produced their effect.  Some of the paper was in Paris and some in Vienna.  It turned out worthless, and the foreigners have taken fright.  It is all a fraud, at best—­or something very like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me the truth, Don Orsino—­have you seen a centime of all these millions which every one is dealing with?  Do you believe they really exist?  No.  It is all paper, paper, and more paper.  There is no cash in the business.”

“But there is land and there are houses, which represent the millions substantially.”

“Substantially!  Yes—­as long as the inflation lasts.  After that they will represent nothing.”

“You are talking nonsense, Contini.  Prices may fall, and some people will lose, but you cannot destroy real estate permanently.”

“Its value may be destroyed for ten or twenty years, which is practically the same thing when people have no other property.  Take this block we are building.  It represents a large sum.  Say that in the next six months there are half a dozen failures like Ronco’s and that a panic sets in.  We could then neither sell the houses nor let them.  What would they represent to us?  Nothing.  Failure—­like the failure of everybody else.  Do you know where the millions really are?  You ought to know better than most people.  They are in Casa Saracinesca and in a few other great houses which have not dabbled in all this business, and perhaps they are in the pockets of a few clever men who have got out of it all in time.  They are certainly not in the firm of Andrea Contini and Company, which will assuredly be bankrupt before the winter is out.”

Contini bit his cigar savagely, thrust his hands into his pockets and looked out of the window, turning his back on Orsino.  The latter watched his companion in surprise, not understanding why his dismal forebodings should find such sudden and strong expression.