So Gambouge shovelled dish and spoons into the flap of his surtout, and ran downstairs as if the Devil were behind him--as, indeed, he was. He immediately made for the house of his old friend the pawnbroker--that establishment which is called in France the Mont de Piété. ‘I am obliged to come to you again, my old friend,’ said Simon, ‘with some family plate, of which I beseech you to take care.’ The pawnbroker smiled as he examined the goods. ‘I can give you nothing upon them,’ said he. ‘What!’ cried Simon; ‘not even the worth of the silver?’ ‘No; I could buy them at that price at the “Café Morisot,” Rue de la Verrerie, where, I suppose, you got them a little cheaper.’ And, so saying, he showed to the guilt-stricken Gambouge how the name of that coffee-house was inscribed upon every one of the articles which he had wished to pawn. The effects of conscience are dreadful indeed. Oh! how fearful is retribution, how deep is despair, how bitter is remorse for crime--_when crime is found out!_--otherwise, conscience takes matters much more easily. Gambouge cursed his fate, and swore henceforth to be virtuous. ‘But, hark ye, my friend,’ continued the honest broker, ‘there is no reason why, because I cannot lend upon these things, I should not buy them: they will do to melt, if for no other purpose. Will you have half the money?--speak, or I peach.’ Simon’s resolves about virtue were dissipated instantaneously. ‘Give me half,’ he said, ‘and let me go.--What scoundrels are these pawnbrokers!’ ejaculated he, as he passed out of the accursed shop, ‘seeking every wicked pretext to rob the poor man of his hard-won gain.’ When he had marched forwards for a street or two, Gambouge counted the money which he had received, and found that he was in possession of no less than a hundred francs. It was night, as he reckoned out his equivocal gains, and he counted them at the light of a lamp. He looked up at the lamp, in doubt as to the course he should next pursue: upon it was inscribed the simple number, 152. ‘A gambling-house,’ thought Gambouge. ‘I wish I had half the money that is now on the table upstairs.’ He mounted, as many a rogue has done before him, and found half a hundred persons busy at a table of _rouge et noir_. Gambouge’s five napoleons looked insignificant by the side of the heaps which were around him; but the effects of the wine, of the theft, and of the detection by the pawnbroker, were upon him, and he threw down his capital stoutly upon the 0 0.