skin, and it won't scratch. Let the knotted cords of your discipline be of worsted furniture cord, and it won't hurt. Let the fish which you are allowed to eat, be made into savoury cakes, and let your lentils be stewed in fresh cream, and so it may be brought about that you shall be a first-rate anchorite, without inflicting much torment on your flesh, and an ascetic of the highest order, without introducing anything but what is good and toothsome into your penitential diet.
Fatal Zero.
A Diary Kept at Homburg: A Short Serial Story.
Chapter XVII.—Continued.
Ten o'clock.—How cool I can take up this pen and write, forming letters and words very carefully and neatly, and yet I am numbed, dulled, almost stupefied, and can imagine a mother who has heard of all her children being swept off at one coup. Ah! that word! Not growing frantic or mad, but being quite calm, I can even take out these notes, and count them. . . . . Yes, here is the total:
Sixteen louis won back, all lost; lost, also, one hundred of Mr. Bernard's money; total loss of the night, one hundred and sixteen, besides the sixty lost before! This is the accurate sum. It does not matter what is left.
I shall put down everything, so that it shall be all read hereafter by those whom it shall most concern—if there are any such. I am very glad I kept this diary so minutely, as it will show the gradual stages of the whole fall. God—God Almighty forgive me! What a fall! And my sanctimonious jumble of prayers before each act of theft—for so it is—theft and embezzlement. O Pharisee, hypocrite! This was my piety and my prayers. O my poor, lost, loved little Dora, there is a gulf between us now, wider than the sea between Calais and Dover. A letter (I never see these letters now, except by accident, my eyes are growing so dim). I see—from the banker himself. Nothing could be better. He will be in Homburg himself to-morrow at two, and will call at my lodgings to receive his money. He hopes I will be punctual this time, as he has some very important business with me, owing to a letter he received from Mr. Bernard. He is glad to find that I had been too late to get a letter of credit, as it would not be wanted. Quite right and proper—everything is coming gradually to a head. I must sit on here calmly till morning, and look at the situation; and I am astonished how calmly I can do it. I must do something, it matters not what, and don't in the least care; but still something must be chosen as a course. The felon always decides on a course, either to fly, or give himself up, or make confession. Which of the two last would be the simplest? . . . .
Madness, crime, folly, embezzlement! O Dora, Dora! I hold my temples with my hands pressed close. I could cast myself on the ground, and roll in the dust. O Heavens fall on me and cover me! Yet it was insanity. Devilish fingers—not mine—were tearing the notes from my pocket. As they fluttered away for ever it seemed to me the only way to stop them was to clutch at them. There, I hear a step—it is Grainger.
Midnight.—I can still write it all quite calmly and leisurely, for I am determined all the stages of this business shall go down minutely. It will make such a record, and may, perhaps, be of use to others.
I am so glad to see a face that is familiar; and when he asks will I come out and sit under the colonnade, I agree mechanically.
"So you have been sent supplies of money?" he said. "That D'Eyncourt told me he saw you sowing your louis thickly, putting down like a man. Have you come in for a fortune?"
"No," I said.
"Then how did you manage it?"
"Don't worry me now with questions," I said; "don't for God's sake!"
"O I see, I understand—a delicate matter. And I don't want to pry into any man's affairs. However, as you have money, perhaps you would let me have my little loan, or rather—D'Eyncourt."
"D'Eyncourt! What do you mean?" I said.
"I say his money. Why, were you pastoral enough to suppose that a poor devil like me could lend money? No; I asked him for you, and pressed it, too. What friend, I'd like to know, goes borrowing for a friend?"
"You did this," I said, covering my face: "yet it is only one more gulf of degradation."
"Degradation! Then pay him at once. Here, put it in my hands, or pay him yourself."
"Yes, yes. He must be paid."
"Yes he must, if he hasn't gone telling it about. But my good friend," he added slowly, "if he is only to be paid in a certain way, that is by diverting other funds——"
"You are going too far, Grainger. What are you speaking to me in this way for? Do you see the state I am in? Do you want to
