He had resolved to give a fete in honor of his deliverance, and so
he hurried off in search of some of his old college chums. He
found two of them; and, although it was very wounding to his self-
love, M. Wilkie was obliged to confess to them that this was his
first taste of liberty, and that he scarcely knew what to do with
himself. Of course his friends assured him that they could
quickly make him acquainted with the only life that it was worth
while living; and, to prove it, they accepted the invitation to
dinner which he immediately offered them. It was a remarkable
repast. Other acquaintances dropped in, the wine flowed in
rivers; and after dinner they danced. And at day-break, having
served his apprenticeship at baccarat, M. Wilkie found himself
without a penny in his pocket, and face to face with a bill of
four hundred francs, for which amount he was obliged to go to his
rooms, under the escort of one of the waiters. This first
experiment ought to have disgusted him, or at least have made him
reflect. But no. He felt quite in his element in the society of
dissipated young men and enamelled women. He swore that he would
win a place in their midst, and an influential place too. But it
was easier to form this plan than to carry it into execution, as
he discovered when, at the end of the month, he counted his money
to see what remained of the five thousand francs that had been
given him for his quarterly allowance. He had just three hundred
francs left.

Twenty thousand francs a year is what one chooses to make it--
wealth or poverty. Twenty thousand francs a year represents about
sixty francs a day; but what are sixty francs to a high liver, who
breakfasts and dines at the best restaurants, whose clothes are
designed by an illustrious tailor, who declines to make a pair of