I left Venezuela pacified--from exhaustion--and Carmen in somewhat better spirits than I had found him.
His last words were a warning, which I have had frequent occasion to remember: "Beware of the Griscellis." I sailed from Curacoa (Ramon, of course, accompanying me), in a Dutch ship, bound for Rotterdam, whither I arrived in due course, and proceeding thence to Amsterdam, introduced myself to Goldberg, Van Voorst & Company.
They were a weighty and respectable firm in every sense of the term, and received me with a ponderous gravity befitting the occasion.
Though extremely courteous in their old-fashioned way, they neither wasted words nor asked unnecessary questions.

But they made me a momentous proposal--no less than to become their partner.

They had an ample capital for their original trade of diamond merchants; but having recently become contractors for government loans, they had opportunities of turning my fortune to much better account than investing it in ordinary securities.
Goldberg & Company did not make it a condition that I should take an active part in the business--that would be just as I pleased.

After being fully enlightened as to the nature of their transactions, and looking at their latest balance-sheets, I closed with the offer, and I have never had occasion to regret my decision.

We opened branch houses in London and Paris; the firm is now one of the largest of its kind in Europe; we reckon our capital by millions, and, as I have lived long, and had no children to provide for, the amount standing to my credit exceeds that of all the other partners put together, and yields me a princely income.
But I could not settle down to the monotonous career of a merchant, and though I have always taken an interest in the business of the house, and on several important occasions acted as its special agent in the greater capitals, my life since that time--a period of nearly fifty years--has been spent mainly in foreign travel and scientific study.