the form of new promissory notes.
The baron contemplated these with much tenderness. At first he would sit
for hours opposite the open casket, never weary of arranging the
parchment leaves according to their numbers, delighting in their glossy
whiteness, and forming plans for paying off the capital; and even when,
for safety's sake, the casket had been made over to the keeping of the
Joint-stock Company, the thought of it was a continual pleasure. Nay,
the spirit of the casket began to peep out even in household
arrangements. The baroness was surprised at her husband counseling
certain economies, or telling with a degree of pleasure of ten louis
d'or won last evening at cards. She was at first a little afraid that he
had become in some way embarrassed; but, as he assured her, with a
complacent smile, that this was far from being the case, she soon
learned to treat these little attempts at saving as an innocent whim,
especially as they only extended to trifling details, the baron
insisting as much as ever upon keeping up a dignified and imposing
social appearance. Indeed, it was impossible for him to retrench just
now. The town life, the furnishing of the house, and the necessary
claims of society, of course increased the outgoings.

And so it came to pass that the baron, after having paid a visit to his
property to settle the yearly accounts, returned to town much out of
tune. He had become aware that the expenditure of the last year had
exceeded the income, and that the income of the next year gave no
promise of balancing the existing deficit of two thousand dollars. The
thought occurred that the sum must be taken from the white parchments;
and the man who would have stood calm beneath a shower of bullets, broke
out into a cold perspiration at the idea of the debts thus to be
incurred. It was plain that there had been an error in his calculations.
He who wishes to raise a sum by small yearly savings must not increase,
but lessen his expenditure. True, the increase in his case had been
unavoidable; but still, a most unlucky coincidence. The baron had not
felt such anxiety since his lieutenant-days. There were a thousand good
reasons, however, against giving up the town house; it was rented for a
term of years; and then, what would his acquaintance say? So he kept
his troubles to himself; quieted the baroness by talking of a cold
caught on his journey; but all day long the same thought kept gnawing at
his heart. Sometime