“You know them only too well,” said Aline, regarding me with an air of severity; ... “but you are not willing to betray your friends.... What friends!” I endeavored to appear unconcerned. She continued looking at me with a steadiness that made me shiver. “Do not add to my distress,” said she. “Do not lay aside the only virtue you have left, my poor brother—your customary frankness! I understand it all, and know what I ought to say to you, but words fail me. Ah! if our poor mother were still alive!” ... Aline went away without another word. As for me, I remained motionless and silent for some moments, by turns filled with shame, remorse, and anger.... It would seem as if so grave an occurrence should have led me to serious reflection. I felt inclined to it at first, but resisted the inclination. I found excuses for myself, and soon thought no more of it. I continued, therefore, to live as I had for five years, one pleasure succeeding another, and spending my property without reflecting what I should do hereafter. But the day was at hand when I found myself in a critical position in consequence of my prodigality. When my father, in order to avert cause for contention, put me in possession of my mother’s property, I at once took my papers to a man in whom I placed entire confidence. I did this in order to throw off all care. He had been for a long time my father’s cashier. He was and is honesty itself. “F. Martin,” said I, “here is all I possess. It will be a care for me to keep these papers and collect my income. Do me the favor to take charge of my property.” F. Martin was confused and gratified at such a proof of confidence. But his pleasure was somewhat modified when I added the following words: “F. Martin, I attach one condition to this arrangement: you are not to take advantage of it to sermonize me. I now tell you, with a frankness that will preclude all surprise, I wish to amuse myself.... To what degree, or how long, I cannot say, but such is my present intention, that is certain.” “O M. Louis, if your mother could only hear you!” “F. Martin,” said I, with a gesture, as if to take back my portfolio, “if you are going to begin to preach to me, take care!... I shall give my papers to some one who may rob me. Then, instead of merely curtailing my property a little, I shall spend it all in two years, or four at the furthest; or rather, we shall spend it between us.” “Dreadful boy! I always said you had the faculty of making everybody yield to you. Well, I will do as you wish.” “Ah! that is right. One word more. When I have but twenty thousand francs left, you may warn me—not before!”