“Give him a bill, he’ll never be troublesome: and, as to your wife’s money, tell her frankly you lost it at play. Isn’t that the best way, Madame?” said he, addressing a young and pretty woman at his side. “I am advising my friend to be honest with his wife, and confess that he spent his money in very pleasant company. Come along out of this stuffy place. Let us have a walk in the fresh cool air, and a cigar, if you have one. I often wonder,” said he, as they gained the street, “how the fellows who write books and want to get up sensation scenes, don’t come and do something of this sort There’s a marvellous degree of stimulant in being cleaned out, not only of one’s own cash, but of one’s credit; and by credit I mean it in the French sense, which says, ‘Le crédit est l’argent des autres.’” “I wish you had not lost that money,” muttered the other. “So do I. I have combativeness very strong, and I hate being beaten by anyone in anything.” “I’m thinking of the money!” said the other, doggedly. “Naturally, for it was yours. ‘‘Twas mine, ‘tis his,’ as Hamlet has it Great fellow, Hamlet! I don’t suppose that anyone ever drew a character wherein Gentleman was so distinctly painted as Hamlet. He combined all the grandest ideas of his class with a certain ‘disinvoltura’--a sort of high bred levity--that relieved his sternness, and made him much better company than such fellows as Laertes and Horatio.” “When you saw luck turning, why didn’t you leave off?” “Why not ask why the luck turned before I left off? That would be the really philosophic inquiry. Isn’t it chilly?” “I’m not cold, but I’m greatly provoked.” “So am I for _you_; for I haven’t got enough to repay you, but trust me to arrange the matter in the morning. The landlord will see the thing with the eyes of his calling: he’ll soon perceive that the son-in-law of a man who travels with two carriages, and can’t speak one word of French, is one to be trusted. I mean him to cash a bill for us before I leave. Old Rep’s white hat and brown spencer are guarantees for fifty thousand francs in any city of Europe. There is a solvent vulgarity in the very creak of his shoes.” “Oh! he’s not a very distinguished-looking person, certainly,” said Barnard, who now resented the liberty he had himself led the way to. “There I differ with you; _I_ call him eminently distinguished, and I’d rather be able to ‘come’ that cravat tie, and have the pattern of the dark-green waistcoat with the red spots, than I’d have--what shall I say?--all the crisp bank paper I lost awhile ago. You are not going in, surely?” cried he, as the other rang violently at the hotel. “Yes; I am very tired of this fooling. I wish you hadn’t lost that money.” “Do you remember how it goes, Bob? ‘His weary song, The whole day long, Was still l’argent, l’argent, l’argent’