"To-morrow?" he said, in a voice hard, passionless, inflectionless; "how could one break the bank to-morrow, when all his money was gone yesterday?" "Gone!" repeated the Colony, in a breath rather than a voice, and reeling as if a galvanic current had passed through the circle--"Gone!" "Every sou," said Risque, sinking into a chair. "The bank gave me one hundred francs to return to Paris; I risked twenty-five of it, hopeful of better luck, and lost again. Then I had not enough money to get home, and for forty kilometres of the way I have driven a _charette_. See!" he cried, throwing open his coat; "I sold my vest at Compiegne last night, for a morsel of supper." "But you had won seven thousand one hundred francs!" "I won more--more than eighteen thousand francs; but, enlarging my stakes with my capital, one hour brought me down to a sou." "The 'system' was a swindle," hissed Mr. Simp, looking up through red eyes which throbbed like pulses. "What right had you to plunder us upon your speculation?" "The 'system' could not fail," answered the gamester, at bay; "it must have been my manner of play. I think that, upon one run of luck, I gave up my method." "We do not know," cried Simp, tossing his hands wildly; "we may not accuse, we may not be enraged--we are nothing now but profligates without means, and beggars without hope!" They sobbed together, bitterly and brokenly, till Freckle, not entirely sober, shouted, "Good God, is it that gammon-head, Hugenot, who has ruined us? Fetch him out from his ancestry; let me see him, I say! Where is the man who took my three hundred francs!" "I wish," said Simp, in a suicidal way, "that I were lying by Lees in the _fosse commune_. But I will not slave; the world owes every man a living!" "Ay!" echoed the rest, as desperately, but less resolutely. "This noise," said one of the waiters politely, "cannot be continued. It is at any rate time for the _salon_ to be closed. We will thank you to pay your bill, and settle your quarrels in the garden." "Here is the account," interpolated Andy Plade, "dinner for thirteen persons, nineteen hundred and fifty francs. "Manes of my ancestry!" shrieked Hugenot, overturning the _blanchisseuse_ in his way, and rushing from the house. "We have not the money!" cried the whole Colony in chorus; and, as if by concert, the company in mass, male and female, cleared the threshold and disappeared, headed by Andy Plade, who kept all the subscriptions in his pockets, and terminated by Freckle, who was caught at the base of the stairs and held for security. VII. THE COLONY DISBANDED. The Colony, as a body, will appear no more in this transcript. The greatness of their misfortune kept them asunder. They closed their chamber-doors, and waited in hunger and sorrow for the moment when the sky should be their shelter and beggary their craft.