and jewelled shoe-buckles, and muttered contemptuously, as he turned away, "Dandified French coxcomb!" To Count Rostopchine the French, with all their works and ways, were anathema.
Ivan's heart was not broken by this repulse, though he took his revenge for it in a clever lampoon, much applauded in the salons. He plunged the more madly into every form of excitement and dissipation. For a while fortune continued to smile upon him, and all things went well; his heart was glad, his laugh light, and his step elastic.
But a bitter hour came at last. One night the debts scored against him upon the gaming-table grew and grew, until the total became absolutely alarming. Of course he was plied with the usual arguments, "Go on; your fortune will change,—you will retrieve all;"—and, of course, he yielded. The fascination of companionship was upon him, and the yet more potent spell of champagne completed his infatuation. So far as he was able to reflect at all, the very thoughts that ought to have checked his madness only stimulated it. He could not bear that his associates should taunt him with cowardice, but it was still more intolerable that they should suspect him of poverty. The fear made him desperate, and he went on wildly and recklessly, lavishly increasing his stakes, lest any one should surmise the truth—that he was risking more than he possessed. But at last that very fear arrested him when on the brink of ruin. Seeing him so heavy a loser, his friends came forward with offers of assistance, which they urged, nay, even pressed upon him. But he rejected all. Not to these would he become a debtor; for what hope could he entertain of repaying them? There was only one in all the world to whom he could turn for real help in the hour of need.
It was not until the next morning that he fully realized his position. He awoke unrefreshed from a short feverish sleep, and drank the tea his valet brought him, but could not eat.
