by his notice was eagerly sought
by the young bloods of the town. Do not think, however, that he
was naturally vicious; he had a warm heart, and even generous
emotions at twenty. Six years of unhealthy pleasures had spoiled
him to the marrow. Foolishly vain, he was ready to do anything to
maintain his notoriety. He had the bold and determined egotism of
one who has never had to think of anyone but himself, and has never
suffered. Intoxicated by the flatteries of the so-called friends
who drew his money from him, he admired himself, mistaking his
brutal cynicism for wit, and his lofty disdain of all morality and
his idiotic scepticism, for character. He was also feeble; he had
caprices, but never a will; feeble as a child, a woman, a girl.
His biography was to be found in the petty journals of the day,
which retailed his sayings--or what he might have said; his
least actions and gestures were reported.

One night when he was supping at the Cafe de Paris, he threw all
the plates out the window. It cost him twenty thousand francs.
Bravo! One morning gossiping Paris learned with stupefaction that
he had eloped to Italy with the wife of X---, the banker, a lady
nineteen years married. He fought a duel, and killed his man. The
week after, he was wounded in another. He was a hero! On one
occasion he went to Baden, where he broke the bank. Another time,
after playing sixty hours, he managed to lose one hundred and twenty
thousand francs--won by a Russian prince.

He was one of those men whom success intoxicates, who long for
applause, but who care not for what they are applauded. Count
Hector was more than ravished by the noise he made in the world.
It seemed to him the acme of honor and glory to have his name or
initials constantly in the columns of the Parisian World. He did
not betray this, however, but said, with charming modesty, after
each new adventure:

"When will they stop talking about me?"

On great occasions, he borrowed from Louis XIV the epigram:

"After me the deluge."

The deluge came in his lifetime.

One April morning, his valet, a villainous fellow, drilled and
dressed up by the count--woke him at nine o'clock with this speech:

"Monsieur, a bailiff is downstairs in the ante-chamber, and has come
to seize your furniture."

Hector turned on his pillow, yawned, stretched, and replied:

"Well, tell him to begin operations with the stables and
carriage-house; and then come up and dress me."

He d