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322 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