s he spoke, saw that his words went to the
neophyte's heart like a stab, and Hector Merlin was glad. Play followed,
Lucien lost all his money, and Coralie brought him away; and he forgot
for a while, in the delights of love, the fierce excitement of the
gambler, which was to gain so strong a hold upon him.

When he left Coralie in the morning and returned to the Latin Quarter,
he took out his purse and found the money he had lost. At first he
felt miserable over the discovery, and thought of going back at once to
return a gift which humiliated him; but--he had already come as far as
the Rue de la Harpe; he would not return now that he had almost reached
the Hotel de Cluny. He pondered over Coralie's forethought as he went,
till he saw in it a proof of the maternal love which is blended with
passion in women of her stamp. For Coralie and her like, passion
includes every human affection. Lucien went from thought to thought, and
argued himself into accepting the gift. "I love her," he said; "we shall
live together as husband and wife; I will never forsake her!"

What mortal, short of a Diogenes, could fail to understand Lucien's
feelings as he climbed the dirty, fetid staircase to his lodging, turned
the key that grated in the lock, and entered and looked round at the
unswept brick floor, at the cheerless grate, at the ugly poverty and
bareness of the room.

A package of manuscript was lying on the table. It was his novel; a note
from Daniel d'Arthez lay beside it:--

"Our friends are almost satisfied with your work, dear poet,"
d'Arthez wrote. "You will be able to present it with more
confidence now, they say, to friends and enemies. We saw your
charming article on the Panorama-Dramatique; you are sure to
excite as much jealousy in the profession as regret among your
friends here. DANIEL."

"Regrets! What does he mean?" exclaimed Lucien. The polite tone of
the note astonished him. Was he to be henceforth a stranger to the
brotherhood? He had learned to set a higher value on the good opinion
and the friendship of the circle in the Rue des Quatre-Vents since he
had tasted of the delicious fruits offered to him by the Eve of the
theatrical underworld. For some moments he stood in deep thought; he saw
his present in the garret, and foresaw his future in Coralie's rooms.
Honorable resolution struggled with temptation and swayed him now this
way, now that. He sat down and beg