s to his beloved Diane had
passed through d'Esgrignon's mind, something like a shudder ran through
him when he remembered that he still owed sixty thousand francs, to
say nothing of bills to come for another ten thousand. He went back
melancholy enough. His friends remarked his ill-disguised preoccupation,
and spoke of it among themselves at dinner.

"Young d'Esgrignon is getting out of his depth. He is not up to Paris.
He will blow his brains out. A little fool!" and so on and so on.

D'Esgrignon, however, promptly took comfort. His servant brought him two
letters. The first was from Chesnel. A letter from Chesnel smacked
of the stale grumbling faithfulness of honesty and its consecrated
formulas. With all respect he put it aside till the evening. But the
second letter he read with unspeakable pleasure. In Ciceronian phrases,
du Croisier groveled before him, like a Sganarelle before a Geronte,
begging the young Count in future to spare him the affront of first
depositing the amount of the bills which he should condescend to draw.
The concluding phrase seemed meant to convey the idea that here was
an open cashbox full of coin at the service of the noble d'Esgrignon
family. So strong was the impression that Victurnien, like Sganarelle
or Mascarille in the play, like everybody else who feels a twinge of
conscience at his finger-tips, made an involuntary gesture.

Now that he was sure of unlimited credit with the Kellers, he opened
Chesnel's letter gaily. He had expected four full pages, full of
expostulation to the brim; he glanced down the sheet for the familiar
words "prudence," "honor," "determination to do right," and the like,
and saw something else instead which made his head swim.

"MONSIEUR LE COMTE,--Of all my fortune I have now but two hundred
thousand francs left. I beg of you not to exceed that amount, if
you should do one of the most devoted servants of your family the
honor of taking it. I present my respects to you.

"CHESNEL."

"He is one of Plutarch's men," Victurnien said to himself, as he tossed
the letter on the table. He felt chagrined; such magnanimity made him
feel very small.

"There! one must reform," he thought; and instead of going to a
restaurant and spending fifty or sixty francs over his dinner, he
retrenched by dining with the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, and told her
about the letter.

"I should like to see that man," she sa