he threatened to ship me off as a cabin-boy to the Antilles. A
dreadful shiver ran through me if I had ventured to spend a couple of

hours in some pleasure party.
"Imagine the most wandering imagination and passionate temperament,

the tenderest soul and most artistic nature, dwellingcontinually in
the presence of the most flint-hearted, atrabilious, and frigid man on

earth; think of me as a young girl married to a skeleton, and you will
understand the life whose curious scenes can only be a hearsay tale to

you; the plans for running away that perished at the sight of my
father, the despair soothed by slumber, the dark broodings charmed

away by music. I breathed my sorrows forth in melodies. Beethoven or
Mozart would keep my confidences sacred. Nowadays, I smile at

recollections of the scruples which burdened my conscience at that
epoch of innocence and virtue.

"If I set foot in a restaurant, I gave myself up for lost; my fancy
led me to look on a cafe as a disreputable haunt, where men lost their

characters and embarrassed their fortunes; as for engaging in play, I
had not the money to risk. Oh, if I needed to send you to sleep, I

would tell you about one of the most frightful pleasures of my life,
one of those pleasures with fangs that bury themselves in the heart as

the branding-iron enters the convict's shoulder. I was at a ball at
the house of the Duc de Navarreins, my father's cousin. But to make my

position the more perfectly clear, you must know that I wore a
threadbare coat, ill-fitting shoes, a tie fit for a stableman, and a

soiled pair of gloves. I shrank into a corner to eat ices and watch
the pretty faces at my leisure. My father noticed me. Actuated by some

motive that I did not fathom, so dumfounded was I by this act of
confidence, he handed me his keys and purse to keep. Ten paces away

some men were gambling. I heard the rattling of gold; I was twenty
years old; I longed to be steeped for one whole day in the follies of

my time of life. It was a license of the imagination that would find a
parallel neither in the freaks of courtesans, nor in the dreams of

young girls. For a year past I had beheld myself well dressed, in a
carriage, with a pretty woman by my side, playing the great lord,

dining at Very's, deciding not to go back home till the morrow; but
was prepared for my father with a plot more intricate than the

Marriage of Figaro, which he could not possibly have unraveled. All
this bliss would cost, I estimated, fifty crowns. Was it not the

artless idea of playing truant that still had charms for me?
"I went into a small adjoining room, and when alone counted my

father's money with smarting eyes and trembling fingers--a hundred
crowns! The joys of my escapade rose before me at the thought of the

amount; joys that flitted about me like Macbeth's witches round their
caldron; joys how alluring! how thrilling! how delicious! I became a

deliberate rascal. I heeded neither my tingling ears nor the violent
beating of my heart, but took out two twenty-franc pieces that I seem

to see yet. The dates had been erased, and Bonaparte's head simpered
upon them. After I had put back the purse in my pocket, I returned to

the gaming-table with the two pieces of gold in the palms of my damp
hands, prowling about the players like a sparrow-hawk round a coop of

chickens. Tormented by inexpressible terror, I flung a sudden
clairvoyant glance round me, and feeling quite sure that I was seen by

none of my acquaintance, betted on a stout, jovial little man, heaping
upon his head more prayers and vows than are put up during two or

three storms at sea. Then, with an intuitive scoundrelism, or
Machiavelism, surprising in one of my age, I went and stood in the

door, and looked about me in the rooms, though I saw nothing; for both
mind and eyes hovered about that fateful green cloth.

"That evening fixes the date of a first observation of a physiological
kind; to it I owe a kind of insight into certain mysteries of our

double nature that I have since been enabled to penetrate. I had my
back turned on the table where my future felicity lay at stake, a

felicity but so much the more intense that it was criminal. Between me
and the players stood a wall of onlookers some five feet deep, who

were chatting; the murmur of voices drowned the clinking of gold,
which mingled in the sounds sent up by this orchestra; yet, despite

all obstacles, I distinctly heard the words of the two players by a
gift accorded to the passions, which enables them to annihilate time

and space. I saw the points they made; I knew which of the two turned
up the king as well as if I had actually seen the cards; at a distance

of ten paces, in short, the fortunes of play blanched my face.
"My father suddenly went by, and then I knew what the Scripture meant

by 'The Spirit of God passed before his face.' I had won. I slipped
through the crowd of men who had gathered about the players with the

quickness of an eel escaping through a broken mesh in a net. My nerves
thrilled with joy instead of anguish. I felt like some criminal on the

way to torture released by a chance meeting with the king. It happened
that a man with a decoration found himself short by forty francs.

Uneasy eyes suspected me; I turned pale, and drops of perspiration
stood on my forehead, I was well punished, I thought, for having

robbed my father. Then the kind little stout man said, in a voice like
an angel's surely, 'All these gentlemen have paid their stakes,' and

put down the forty francs himself. I raised my head in triumph upon
the players. After I had returned the money I had taken from it to my

father's purse, I left my winnings with that honest and worthy
gentleman, who continued to win. As soon as I found myself possessed

of a hundred and sixty francs, I wrapped them up in my handkerchief,
so that they could neither move or rattle on the way back; and I

played no more.
" 'What were you doing at the card-table?' said my father as we

stepped into the carriage.
" 'I was looking on,' I answered, trembling.

" 'But it would have been nothing out of the common if you had been
prompted by self-love to put some money down on the table. In the eyes

of men of the world you are quite old enough to assume the right to
commit such follies. So I should have pardoned you, Raphael, if you

had made use of my purse. . . . .'
"I did not answer. When we reached home, I returned the keys and money

to my father. As he entered his study, he emptied out his purse on the
mantelpiece, counted the money, and turned to me with a kindly look,

saying with more or less long and significant pauses between each
phrase:

" 'My boy, you are very nearly twenty now. I am satisfied with you.
You ought to have an allowance, if only to teach you how to lay it

out, and to gain some acquaintance with everyday business.
Henceforward I shall let you have a hundred francs each month. Here is

your first quarter's income for this year,' he added, fingering a pile
of gold, as if to make sure that the amount was correct. 'Do what you

please with it.'
"I confess that I was ready to fling myself at his feet, to tell him

that I was a thief, a scoundrel, and, worse than all, a liar! But a
feeling of shame held me back. I went up to him for an embrace, but he

gently pushed me away.
" 'You are a man now, MY CHILD,' he said. 'What I have just done was a

very proper and simple thing, for which there is no need to thank me.
If I have any claim to your gratitude, Raphael,' he went on, in a kind

but dignified way, 'it is because I have preserved your youth from the
evils that destroy young men in Paris. We will be two friends

henceforth. In a year's time you will be a doctor of law. Not without
some hardship and privations you have acquired the sound knowledge and

the love of, and application to, work that is indispensable to public
men. You must learn to know me, Raphael. I do not want to make either

an advocate or a notary of you, but a statesman, who shall be the
pride of our poor house. . . . Good-night,' he added.

"From that day my father took me fully into confidence. I was an only
son; and ten years before, I had lost my mother. In time past my

father, the head of a historic family remembered even now in Auvergne,
had come to Paris to fight against his evil star, dissatisfied at the

prospect of tilling the soil, with his useless sword by his side. He
was endowed with the shrewdness that gives the men of the south of

France a certain ascendency when energy goes with it. Almost unaided,
he made a position for himself near the fountain of power. The

revolution brought a reverse of fortune, but he had managed to marry
an heiress of good family, and, in the time of the Empire, appeared to