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er mind—l will not stop ; besides, if Emilie
should come, while I was gone to drink ! I
should have foreseen this, to-morrow; I will
take Care to bring in a pitcher of water.”
Midnight sounded.
“It is enough,’ 5 said he ; “ now I will re
capitulate. Oh, heavens ! Eight thousand
francs in six hours! It is prodigious ! This
man is a God !”
And he gave himself up to all the convul
sions of aphrenzied joy. Beside himself, iie
laughed at the noise his hands made in strik
ing together, and, with his feet, repulsed
with disdain the book which, in his folly,
he had thrown to the earth.
‘T must go to bed ; I will try again, to
morrow.’”
And he went to the door, laid his hand up
on the lock, and, throwing a look of compla
cence upon the roulette table, he soon return
ed to it.
“ I will try a few more throws,” said he.
And, with the candle in one hand, and the
little white ball of ivory in the other, he re
commenced acting both as player and bank
er, and his new imaginary gains gave him
new convulsions of joy. Six times he went
to the door, and six times returned to the
roulette table, from which he could not tear
himself away. At last, at the seventh, over
come with sleep, his heavy eyes closed, and
the candle dropped from his hand; the noise
which it made in falling awoke him; he
rubbed his eyes, groped about in the dark for
the candle, and found that the obscurity
would compel him to go to bed.
Emilie, faithful to his command not to dis
turb him, retired to bed, and gn.ve herself up
to those sweet illusions which the recent
change in her husband had produced. Julian
lighted his candle at the night-lamp, which
he found still burning: he approached the
bed, and contemplated the sweet features of
his wife.
“How beautiful she is!” said he. “Oh,
charming Emilie! fortune would well be
come you; it would add grace to your
charms. Ah ! if I could one day be able!”
And a long sigh escaped his bosom.
At the dawn of day he was on foot. He
arose softly, so as not to disturb Emilie, went
immediately into his cabinet, and commenced
again new chimerical essays against the cap
rices of fortune. What was the astonish
ment of Emilie, on awaking, to find her hus
band absent from her side !
“Oh!” thought she, “he has not been
sleeping!”
She arose quickly, threw on her dressing
gown, and went to the door of the cabinet,
which she found shut.
“Oh ! heavens ! lam sure he is working
yet. Julian, my friend!” said she, tapping
lightly, the tender and inquiet tones of her
voice displaying her anxiety.
“Great God! it is Emilie!” said Julian:
in his fright letting the little ball of ivory,
which he was just going to put in motion,
slip from his hand to the floor.
“Julian! Julian !” repeated his wife, “you
are working 100 much--it will make you
sick.”
“ If she should chance to look through the
key-hole,” thought he, “I should be lost. 5 ’
He took a book from the table, walked on
tiptoe, and applied it to the key-hole, near
which he remained, stretching his arms so as
to be as far as from the door.
“Julian, reply tome: whydon’tyou come
to bed? If you do not sleep, you will cer
tainly be sick.”
“ What do you want ?■” replied Julian, ‘
feigning not to have heard her.
“I wish you to come and rest yourself at J
least a few moments. 51
“ My love, I beg you to leave me,” he re- i
plied, wiih a little ill humor. “1 told you
not to interrupt me; besides, 1 have slept
fcoine time.”
giMiafta&M n, am miry ©asmyr*
“ You have slept ? Why did you not
come to bed ?”
“So I did; you were sleeping when I reti
red, and you had not awoke when I arose ;
that is the reason you did not perceive me.”
“I am sure he is mistaken,” said Emilie,
cm retiring. “ Oh! if he should become
sick.”
Julian, to prevent his wife’s seeing, in
case her curiosity should tempt her to return,
stopped the key-hole with a piece of paper,
and, entirely reassured, he picked up the lit
tle ivory ball, and continued his play. This
was his only occupation. During eight days
he neglected all his business, abandoned his
affairs entirely to his clerks, who, on their
part, were not overburdened with zeal. En
tirely absorbed by this new idea, he hardly
allowed himself time to eat, and passed a
greater portion of the night in repeating the
same manoeuvre, which, by his close appli
cation, became very fatiguing. His wife,
finding that her representations and prayers
did not prevent his working with an ardor
which was destroying his health, resolved to
appeal to M. Menard. She hoped that the
remonstrances of his father would havemo r e
| effect than her prayers. After breakfast, she
; repaired to his house. M. Menard was at
| first alarmed by her sad air; he feared an
: other misfortune.
“ \Y hat news do you bring me ?” said he.
\ “You look disturbed.”
“Reassure yourself,” replied Emilie; “it
is a different reason from the one you sus
pect, that brings me near you.”
“ What is it, then ?” replied M. Menard,
reassured by her words: “do you come to
complain that Julian does not love you ? 1
will assure you, beforehand, if it is so, that
you are mistaken.”
“You are far from right: Julian, on the
contrary, loves me too much.”
“Ah ! it is something new, for a wife to
complain that her husband loves her too
much; but how do you know that?”
“Oh, yes, he loves me too much! You
know the heart of my Julian. Without
doubt, full of sorrowful regret at having dis
sipated at play all that we were worth, he
wishes, by his labor, to replace those losses.
He imagines that I would be happier, if I
were rich. Oh ! if he knew how much he
was mistaken! How I should detest the
riches gained at the expense of his health !
Yes, Julian has undertaken more business
than he can attend to ; he is overwhelmed
with work; lam sure he will be sick, and
this idea makes me miserable.”
“Excellent wife!” said M. Menard, in a
tone of emotion; “Julian is doing but his
duty; he has dissipated your fortune; he
ought to make every effort to recover it: if
he did not act thus, what reproaches would
you not make him one day, when your chil
dren —for you will have them, without doubt,
Emilie ?”
“Oh! yes,' 5 replied the young wife, with
joy, “I shall soon be a mother.”
“Ah, well! this child, you will love it—
you will cherish it; and what would not be
jour sorrow, if you had not the means ol
giving it an education ? You would then re
call the faults of your husband.’ and over
them you would weep tears of blood; you
would overwhelm him with just reproaches; i
you would say to him ■”
“Oh! I would say m> such thing. Let
Julian work, but Jet him work moderately ;
let him not destroy liis health. He is aston
ishingly changed within the last eight days!
He shuts himself up, night and day, in his
cabinet: he neither eats or sleeps; his cheeks
are thin and pale, his eyes sunken ; it over
whelms me with sorrow to look at him. My
God ! if he should die ! In mercy, my good
father, do not refuse me ! Tell Julian not to
work so much—to take care of himself. I
have already begged him a thousand times,
but he will not listen to me. He will listen
:to you, I am certain. Oh ! promise me that
! you will speak to him.”
She clasped the hands of the old man, and
covered them with tears and kisses.
“Calm yourself, Emilie—do not weep,”
1 said M. Menard, wiping the tears of his
1 daughter-in-law ; “ I will see Julian, and will
! engage to make him more moderate, 1 prom
! ise you.”
“Oh! what happiness! for he will listen
to you.”
Emilie retired with her heart full of joy.
“Oh ! charming child!” said her father-in
law, embracing her as she was going, “let
Julian quit gambling, and you will be worthy
! of each other.”
M. Menard, wishing to keep the promise
which he had made to Emilie, called the next
day at his son’s house. Julian was still shut
up in his cabinet, when he heard his wife
calling him:
“Julian! Julian! here is your father;
open the door—he wishes to sec you.”
These words were like a clap of thunder
to him. He overthrew the roulette table,
j piled upon it, with precipitation, books, pa
pers—in fact, every thing he could lay his
hands on, which would serve to cover and
conceal it from -sight: he afterwards opened
the door, and went out with the hesitation of
a man who is about to commit a crime. His
father came to him, and was going to enter
the cabinet.
“ Let us go to the saloon,” said he, with
drawing the hand which M. Menard had al
ready placed upon the key; “we shall be
more eomfortable there : my room is in such
disorder, that you will scarcely find a place
to sit.” ‘
M. Menard truly found his son much
changed: he asked Emilie to leave them
alone, and, when she had disappeared, he re
marked it to him. Julian dared not, before his
father, attribute the alterations in his features
to his labor; he pretended to be indisposed.
•‘You deceive me,Julian,” said M. Men
ard, “I know the cause of it. You pass all
the day, and a part of the night, working in
your cabinet.- Emilie came to see me, and
told me all. The poor child, alarmed at the
alteration in your features, threw herself
weeping at my feet, and conjured me to beg
you to be more moderate—to take care of
your health—assuring me that her prayers
and remonstrances had been alike in vain.
You are wrong, Julian ; excesses arc always
reprehensible; I am far from reproaching
you, however. This,but proves your good
heart, and your repentance. You burn to le
pair the evil you have done: 1 congratulate
you, my son —I did not expect less of you ;
but, Julian, you should work more moder
ately; for, if you should become sick, the
sorrow which Emilie would experience would j
be far above that she suffered at the loss of |
her property. She loves you so much! Oh ! 1
if you had seen her tears—her prayers! !
She presented the most touching picture, the i
model of conjugal love. If you have too
much business, why not engage someone (
capable of assisting you ? But, I repeat to
you, take care of yourself ; and, above all,
do not encroach upon the time given to sleep;
much sorrow will be the result ; if you should
become ill, your business would suffer, and,
by that means, you would lose the end you
propose. Julian, I have promised your wife
not to leave you until you promise to be more j
careful: do you promise me ?”
Julian listened to his father with his eyes
fixed upon the floor : he felt that he did not!
merit these praises, these tender reproaches.
“ Yes, my father,” replied he, in a feeble 1
voice, “ I promise you that I will not work
so late.”
“With these words, I will go and make 1
Emilie happy; bjit do not forget to perform
them. I will call and see if you do: adieu.”
Hardly had his father departed, when Ju
lian returned to his cabinet; but this time he
permitted the table to rest.
I must, said he, “ add up all the profits
I would have gained in following the stei>
of this man, as if I had really played.” A , j
he set himself to calculate : “A hundred all
thirty thousand francs of gain, and ray fir
losses amounted to only sixty-six thousand
irancs. Now, in deducting the sixty-six
j thousand fiancs loss irom the one hn udre 1
and thirty thousand francs gained, tlv,
would remain sixty-four thousand francs clea
prolit. This is truly admirable ! That i ntm
was happy in being able to play dfis p]av
but, as 1 know it, why cannot [ play it .
well as him ? Oh !lam a fool!. That eigh
ty thousand francs! where the deuce will j
get them? I am the most unfortunate of
men! The ten thousand fiancs which ray
father gave me, and the ten thousand which
I have amassed since, make only twenty
thousand, which is far from being e Hm
thousand. I must not think of it, however'.
My mother-in-law possesses yet fifty 0 r six
ty thousand francs : if she would lend it t 0
me, 1 would pay her the interest! Win
can she not lend it to me, as well as another,
provided that I pay her regularly the inter
est, which Lean do easily, with such consid
erable profits as I will make. Y r es, but what
use shall I tell her that I wish to make of so
considerable a sum ? I cannot tell her that
f wish to break the tankers of the roulette:
she would not believe me—she would refuse
to lend it to me.. But stay! I will tell her
I that I wish to engage in an enterprise that
j promises to pay one hundred per cent., and
! this would be a modest assertion ; for, will it
j not rather be a thousand per cent.? Allons,
| I am determined; I will go and speak to
’ Emilie, and see what she will say.”
Julian went to the parlor, where Emilie
was sitting. She was much astonished at
his gay air, and that he should come to sit
with her. .‘See, 1 thought she, ‘the result of
the visit of his father. Oh! that was a good
idea of mine, to get him to speak to him!”
“You have, then, decided not to kill your
self, 1 said she, her eyes sparkling with joy :
“you have become reasonable, at last ?”
“It is because I have finished my work,
j Bhese eight days that I have been shut up in
my cabinet, have been employed in calcula
ting the probable gains of a fine enterprise,
and I am convinced that they will be consid
erable. I have been invited to become a si
lent partner in this enterprise, and 1 regret
very much to be obliged to refuse; but 1
have not sufficient capital, I have had so lit
tle time to recover my losses. Emilie, you
have already given me great proofs of your
love: I am going to demand yet another,
which will cost you much, perhaps, to grant,
but you must not refuse me.”
“ VY hat do you wish ?”
“That you influence your mother to lend
me all the money that she has at her disposal,
to place in this enterprise.”
“Julian, ah! ask any thing butthat!”
“Itis a thing very natural. It will make
our fortune, and increase that of Madame
Bellemont.”
Julian labored to give to his wife a fabu
lous explanation of the pretended enterprise:
he sought to prove the enormous benefits
which would infallibly spring out of it.
“ I cannot comprehend such great things,
said Emilie, ingenuously; “I understand so
little about business ! But it is the same,
since you say that it will be very advantage
ous.”
“ Ah, well! will you go to your mother s 1
“Oh, Julian! I shall never dare. My
mother will not consent: she will fear.' 1
“That I will gamble again? Is it that
you desire to say ?” said Julian, accompany
ing his words with a bitter smile.
“Oh, no: but, if this enterprise should not
succeed, my poor mother would be reduced
to the most frightful misery. Reflect well.
Julian.”
“ I have reflected eight days and eight
nights. I have considered all the chances r