s inamorata and make her a present
of this money at dessert. During the meal he would be full of
nervous gayety, of cynical humor, and then he would announce his
intention to kill himself. The girl would not fail to narrate the
scene everywhere; she would repeat his last conversation, his last
will and gift; all the cafes would buzz with it at night; the papers
would be full of it.

This idea strangely excited him, and comforted him at once. He was
going out, when his eyes fell upon the mass of papers in his desk.
Perhaps there was something there which might dim the positiveness
of his resolution. He emptied all the drawers without looking or
choosing, and put all the papers in the fire. He looked with pride
upon this conflagration; there were bills, love letters, business
letters, bonds, patents of nobility, deeds of property. Was it not
his brilliant past which flickered and consumed in the fireplace?

The bailiff occurred to him, and he hastily descended. He was the
most polite of bailiffs, a man of taste and wit, a friend of artists,
himself a poet at times. He had already seized eight horses in the
stables with all their harness and trappings, and five carriages
with their equipage, in the carriage-house.

"I'm going on slowly, Count," said he bowing. "Perhaps you wish
to arrest the execution. The sum is large, to be sure, but a man
in your position--"

"Believe that you are here because it suits me," interrupted Hector,
proudly, "this house doesn't suit me; I shall never enter it again.
So, as you are master, go on."

And wheeling round on his heel he went off.

The astonished bailiff proceeded with his work. He went from room
to room, admiring and seizing. He seized cups gained at the races,
collections of pipes and arms, and the library, containing many
sporting-books, superbly bound.

Meanwhile the Count de Tremorel, who was resolved more than ever on
suicide, ascending the boulevards came to his inamorata's house,
which was near the Madeleine. He had introduced her some six months
before into the demi-monde as Jenny Fancy. Her real name was
Pelagie Taponnet, and although the count did not know it, she was
his valet's sister. She was pretty and lively, with delicate hands
and a tiny foot, superb chestnut hair, white teeth, and great
impertinent black eyes, which were languishing, caressing, or
provoking, at will. She had passed suddenly from the most abject
poverty to a state of extravagant luxury. T