This gift had a wholesome influence. He became thenceforth more prudent in the expending of money, and never parted with the gem till his other resources were exhausted. He no more affected to be engaged in study while actually spending his time in dissipation. He directed his days to reading in history, science, political economy and diplomacy. The Count de Virieu was in Paris and received him to share his modest lodgings. Nevertheless, his money though now carefully managed, was finally exhausted. He was called upon by old creditors to pay the "debts of honor" that he had incurred in former years. He had renewed his intimacy with Julie, and her husband gave him the warmest of welcomes. Her health was failing fast, and he took frequent excursions with her about Paris in the hope of benefit. At the end of the winter the alternative was presented to support himself or go back to Milly. When in college he had written verses which his friends there greatly admired. He continued to do so at different times, and had brought a collection of them to Paris. He now offered them to publishers but without success. He was obliged to submit. He made a farewell excursion with Julie to St. Cloud, and left Paris the next morning. That summer was for him more terrible than ever. He saw no hope of emerging from poverty and obscurity. Crops failed that year and the resources of the family were straitened to actual penury. His health suffered and serious results were apprehended. He was again ordered to go to Aix. His mother procured the money for him by surreptitiously selling trees that were growing on their little farm. A note from Julie informed him that her husband was ill, but told him to go to Aix and wait for her. When he arrived there, there came a package forwarded from Chambery enclosing letters from Paris. One of these was from Julie[1] containing a lock of hair and bidding him farewell. It had been herself and not her husband, that was ill and dying. She had given up her former disbelief. "God will send you another sister," she wrote, "and she will be the pious helpmate of your life. I will ask it of him." A letter from the husband asked Lamartine to continue to him as a son. The shock almost bereft him of reason. He wandered for months over the mountains of Savoy and Switzerland, as he describes, "like a darkened soul that had lost the light of heaven and had no mind for that of earth." His mother secretly procured money for him in the hope that travel would alleviate his condition, the cause of which she did not imagine. Autumn was passing, however, and she could no longer frame excuses for his absence. He must return home.