As Cesar traversed a labyrinth of staircases, under the guidance of a man in livery, towards an office far less sumptuous but more useful than that of the head of the house, feeling himself astride the gentle steed of hope, he stroked his chin, and augured well from the flatteries of the great man.  He regretted that an enemy of the Bourbons should be so gracious, so able, so fine an orator.

Full of these illusions he entered a cold bare room, furnished with two desks on rollers, some shabby armchairs, a threadbare carpet, and curtains that were much neglected.  This cabinet was to that of the elder brother like a kitchen to a dining-room, or a work-room to a shop.  Here were turned inside out all matters touching the bank and commerce; here all enterprises were sifted, and the first tithes levied, on behalf of the bank, upon the profits of industries judged worthy of being upheld.  Here were devised those bold strokes by which short-lived monopolies were called into being and rapidly sucked dry.  Here defects of legislation were chronicled; and bargains driven, without shame, for what the Bourse terms “pickings to be gobbled up,” commissions exacted for the smallest services, such as lending their name to an enterprise, and allowing it credit.  Here were hatched the specious, legal plots by which silent partnerships were taken in doubtful enterprises, that the bank might lie in wait for the moment of success, and then crush them and seize the property by demanding a return of the capital at a critical moment,—­an infamous trick, which involves and ruins many small shareholders.

The two brothers had each selected his appropriate part.  Upstairs, Francois, the brilliant man of the world and of politics, assumed a regal air, bestowed courtesies and promises, and made himself agreeable to all.  His manners were easy and complying; he looked at business from a lofty standpoint; he intoxicated new recruits and fledgling speculators with the wine of his favor and his fervid speech, as he made plain to them their own ideas.  Downstairs, Adolphe unsaid his brother’s words, excused him on the ground of political preoccupation, and cleverly slipped the rake along the cloth.  He played the part of the responsible partner, the careful business man.  Two words, two speeches, two interviews, were required before an understanding could be reached with this perfidious house.  Often the gracious “yes” of the sumptuous upper floor became a dry “no” in Adolphe’s region.  This obstructive manoeuvre gave time for reflection, and often served to fool unskilful applicants.  As Cesar entered, the banker’s brother was conversing with the famous Palma, intimate adviser of the house of Keller, who retired on the appearance of the perfumer.  When Birotteau had explained his errand, Adolphe—­much the cleverest of the two brothers, a thorough lynx, with a keen eye, thin lips, and a dry skin—­cast at Birotteau, lowering his head to look over his spectacles as he did so, a look which we must call the banker-look,—­a cross between that of a vulture and that of an attorney; eager yet indifferent, clear yet vague, glittering though sombre.