whole gangs, each telling the other of the good fortune that awaited them.
And many a time there were interminable sprees with whole crews or companies of troopers, tippling from dive to dive, pilgrimages to the sanctuaries of love, the whole stressed by brawls and scuffles with the police.
But one could have discovered a noble motive at the bottom of his greatest excesses; a need for expansion, protection of the weak, disguised charity, a limitless compassion, the happiness of procuring some little pleasure and some moments of peace for the downtrodden. It seemed as if, in indulging himself in so fantastic a slaughter of coins and banknotes, the spendthrift wanted to put at their ease the beggars whom he was helping, and justify their eventual forget fulness. By holding at such a small value that which he was scattering about him, he absolved the recipients of all gratitude. To the poor devils who melted into thanks he would say: "Take it; take all you can get. Pocket it all, and a truce to your thanks … As well as someone else … I would have none of the money by tonight, anyway!"
His charities appeared to be as untimely and as immoderate as his pranks. Not only had he aided the flight and the desertion of a prisoner, but he bought back many sailors from their vampires, repatriated emigrants, and harbored liberated convicts.
All during a winter, a terrible winter when the Scheldt was ice-bound, he visited the homes of day-laborers and mechanics. He gave himself out for an anonymous delegate from the charities, emptied his pockets onto the table or mantlepiece, and before the starving people had time to discover the importance of
