willingly fill the role of Providence and save from shipwreck, without
risking anything, a man with a future, who, later, would pay him back.
It was with this hope that he risked a refusal. The landed proprietor
replied; the poet was silent. And now there was nothing to expect from
any one. Glady was his last resort.

In explaining his situation to Glady he lightened the misery instead of
exaggerating it. For it was not only his upholsterer that he owed, but
also his tailor, his bootmaker, his coal-dealer, his concierge, and all
those with whom he had dealings. In reality, his creditors had not
harassed him very much until lately, but this state of affairs would not
last when they saw him prosecuted; they also would sue him, and how could
he defend himself? How should he live? His only resource would be to
return to the Hotel du Senat, where even they would not leave him in
peace, or to his native town and become a country doctor. In either case
it was renouncing all his ambitions. Would it not be better to die?

What good was life if his dreams were not realized--if he had nothing
that he wanted?

Like many who frequently come in contact with death, life in itself was a
small thing to him--his own life as well as that of others; with Hamlet
he said: "To die, to sleep, no more," but without adding: "To die, to
sleep, perchance to dream," feeling certain that the dead do not dream;
and what is better than sleep to those who have had a hard life?

He was absorbed in thought when something came between him and the
flaring gaslight, and threw a shadow over him that made him straighten
himself up. What was it? Only a policeman, who came and leaned against
the parapet near him.