of which might lead to madness? I have never sought the sources of this
power; I possess it and make use of it, that is all."

Some evenings he would not go out, because ideas were surging in his
brain; but if the rebellious rhymes refused to come he would descend to
the second floor and play some harmless games with certain "persons,"
or it might be a hand at boston, for small stakes, at which he
sometimes won as much as three francs. His resounding laughter could be
heard, echoing down the staircase as he remounted to his garret,
exulting over his extensive winnings. Nothing, however, could turn him
aside from his project of writing Cromwell, and he set himself a date
on which he should present his tragedy to the members of his family
gathered together for the purpose of hearing him read it. After idling
away long days at the Jardin des Plantes or in Pere-Lachaise, he shut
himself in, and wrote with that feverish zeal which later on he himself
christened "Balzacian"; revising, erasing, condensing, expanding,
alternating between despair and enthusiasm, believing himself a genius,
and yet within the same hour, in the face of a phrase that refused to
come right, lamenting that he was utterly destitute of talent; yet
throughout this ardent and painful effort of creation, over which he
groaned, his strength of purpose never abandoned him, and in spite of
everything he inflexibly pursued his ungoverned course towards the goal
which he had set himself. At last he triumphed, the tragedy was
finished, and, his heart swelling with hope, Honore de Balzac presented
to his family the Cromwell on which he relied to assure his liberty.

The members of the family were gathered together in the parlour at
Villeparisis, for the purpose of judging the masterpiece and deciding
whether the rebel who had refused to be a notary had not squandered the
time accorded him in which to give proof of his future prospects as an