"Faith, my friend, when a fellow is ruined, a hundred louis more or less aren't worth worrying about." "Still, they'd tide over for some time. That cursed marquis! I had a presentiment of this." "I shall find him somewhere." "He won't pay you." "Bertrand, you must look into the condition of my cash-box and see how much I have left." "That won't take long, lieutenant." Bertrand walked sadly toward the desk; then returned and presented with a sigh a statement of their finances. "Eighteen thousand six hundred and forty francs," said Auguste, reading the total; "Gad! I didn't think that I was still so rich as this." "I haven't counted the marquis's hundred louis, nor what several of your friends owe you." "I am inclined to think that that is wise. But I must know what I owe also; send to my tailor and boot-maker and harness-maker, and pay their bills. When I was rich I could afford to owe; but when one's money is gone, one should not think of running into debt." "You speak like the great Turenne, lieutenant. All the bills shall be paid to-morrow." After the bills were paid, Auguste possessed sixteen thousand four hundred francs. "Add to that our handsome furniture and the wine in the cellar, and by leading an orderly, economical life, you can wait to see what will turn up," Bertrand observed. "We must subtract from the total, Bertrand, three hundred francs that I have promised to pay for a pretty mercer's apprentice, whose furniture a heartless bailiff proposed to seize; two hundred francs which I am lending to Virginie, and ten louis for some bracelets that I am going to buy to-night." Bertrand nearly swallowed the pen that he had in his mouth. "You can't mean it, lieutenant!" he cried; "before long you won't have anything left." "Look you, my friend, I promised all these things when I was still rich; shall I break my promises just because a villain has ruined me? You wouldn't do it yourself. But I swear that these shall be my last follies. Henceforth I propose to be virtue itself; besides, you must remember that we shall also have the proceeds of the sale of my two horses and my cabriolet, for I can no longer indulge in a carriage! I must cut down my establishment, dismiss Tony, and go on foot.--Does that make you feel sad, Bertrand?" "For your sake, lieutenant!" "Oh! very likely I shall be all the better for it, my friend. Exercise is essential to good health--I've heard you say that a thousand times. Do you think that people who go on foot aren't just as good as those who ride in carriages?" "Oh! you don't think I'm such a fool as that, lieutenant!" "Well then, why regret a thing one can do so well without! With money, hasn't one always a cab at his command, without having horses and a groom to keep? Upon my word, I can't understand now why I ever had a cabriolet."