a thing himself. It was only an idea he was fond of dwelling upon; he was, as it were, in love with Alphonse's debts.
But things went slowly, and Charles became pale and sallow while he watched and waited.
He was longing for the time when the people who had always looked down upon him should have their eyes opened, and see how little the brilliant and idolized Alphonse was really fit for. He wanted to see him humbled, abandoned by his friends, lonely and poor; and then—!
Beyond that he really did not like to speculate; for at this point feelings stirred within him which he would not acknowledge.
He would hate his former friend; he would have revenge for all the coldness and neglect which had been his own lot in life; and every time the least thought in defence of Alphonse arose in his mind he pushed it aside, and said, like the old banker, "Sentiment won't do for a business man."
One day he went to his tailor's; he bought more clothes in these days than he absolutely needed.
The nimble little man at once ran to meet him with a roll of cloth: "See, here is the very stuff for you. Monsieur Alphonse has had a whole suit made of it, and Monsieur Alphonse is a gentleman who knows how to dress."
"I did not think that Monsieur Alphonse was
