Most of them had dwelt in Paris anterior to the war, and, habituated to
its luxuries, scarcely recognized themselves, now that they were forlorn
and needy. Note Mr. Pisgah, for example--a Georgian, tall, shapely and
handsome, with the gray hairs of his thirtieth year shading his working
temples; he had been the most envied man in Paris; no woman could resist
the magnetism of his eye; he was almost a match for the great Berger at
billiards; he rode like a centaur on the Boulevards, and counterfeited
Apollo at the opera and the masque. His credit was good for fifty
thousand francs any day in the year. He had travelled in far and
contiguous regions, conducted intrigues at Athens and Damascus, and
smoked his pipe upon the Nile and among the ruins of Sebastopol. Without
principle, he was yet amiable, and with his dashing style and address,
one forgot his worthlessness.

How keenly he is reminded of it now! He cannot work, he has no craft nor
profession; he knew enough to pass for an educated gentleman; not enough
to earn a franc a day. He is the _protege_ at present of his
washerwoman, and can say, with some governments, that his debts are
impartially distributed. He has only two fears--those of starvation in
France, and a soldier's death in America.

The prospect of a debtor's prison at Clichy has long since ceased to be
a terror. There, he would be secure of sustenance and shelter, and of
these, at liberty, he is doubtful every day.

Still, with his threadbare coat, he haunts the Casino and the Valentino
of evenings; for some mistresses of a former day send him billets.

He lies in bed till long after noon, that he may not have pangs of
hunger; and has yet credit for a dinner at an obscure _cremery_. When
this last confidence shall have been forfeited, what must result to
Pisgah?

He is striving to anticipate the answer with this experiment at
roulette; for he has a "system" whereby it is possible to break any
gambling bank--Spa, Baden, Wisbaden or Homburg. The others have systems
also, from Auburn Risque to Simp, the only son of the richest widow in
Louisiana, who disbursed of old in Paris ten thousand dollars annually.

His house at Passy was a palace in miniature, and his favorite a tragedy
queen. She played at the Folies Dramatiques, and drove three horses of
afternoons upon the Champs Elysees. She had other engagements, of
course, when Mr. Lincoln's "paper blockade" stopped Master Simp's
remittances, and he pas