ithout advice or support. Master of a considerable fortune, used
to luxury from my cradle, it became to me a necessity. Ignorant how
difficult it is to earn money, I was immeasurably prodigal.
Unfortunately, my expenses, foolish as they were, were remarkable for
their elegance. By my taste, I eclipsed men ten times richer than
myself. This first success intoxicated me, and I became a man of
extravagance, as one becomes a man of arms, or a statesman. Yes, I liked
luxury, not from vulgar ostentation, but I liked it as a painter loves
his art. Like every artist, I was jealous of my work, and my work was to
me luxury. I sacrificed everything to its perfection. I wished to have
it beautiful and complete in everything, from my stable to my
drawing-room, from my coat to my house. I wished my life to be the
emblem of taste and elegance. In fact, as an artist, I sought the
applause of the mob and the admiration of the elite. This success is
rare, but I acquired it."

As he spake, Florestan's features gradually lost their hypocritical
assumption, and his eyes kindled with enthusiasm. He looked in his
father's face, and, thinking it was somewhat softened, continued:

"Oracle and regulator of the world, my praise or blame were law: I was
quoted, copied, boasted of, admired, and that by the best circle in
Paris, which is to say in Europe--in the world. The women participated
in the general enthusiasm, and the loveliest contended for the pleasure
of being invited to certain fetes which I gave, and everywhere wonder
was expressed at the incomparable elegance and taste displayed at these
fetes, which millionaires could not equal. In fine, I was the monarch of
fashion. This word will tell you all, my father, if you comprehend it."

"I do comprehend it, and I am sure that at the galleys you will invent
some refined elegance in your fashion of wearing your chain that will
become the mode in your gang, and will be called _a la_ Saint-Remy,"
said the old man, with cutting irony, adding, "and Saint-Remy,--that is
my name!" And again he was silent.

Florestan had need of all his self-control to conceal the wound which
this bitter sarcasm inflicted. He continued in a more humble tone:

"Alas! Father, it is not from pride that I revive the recollection of my
success, for, I repeat to you, it is that success which has undone me.
Sought, envied, and flattered, not by interested parasites, but by
persons much superior in position to myself, I