Until that evening at the play he had loved Aquilina to distraction.  Rather than give her up he would have shut his eyes to her infidelities; and now all that blind passion had passed away as a cloud vanishes in the sunlight.

Jenny was delighted to succeed to her mistress’s position and fortune, and did the cashier’s will in all things; but Castanier, who could read the inmost thoughts of the soul, discovered the real motive underlying this purely physical devotion.  He amused himself with her, however, like a mischievous child who greedily sucks the juice of the cherry and flings away the stone.  The next morning at breakfast time, when she was fully convinced that she was a lady and the mistress of the house, Castanier uttered one by one the thoughts that filled her mind as she drank her coffee.

“Do you know what you are thinking, child?” he said, smiling.  “I will tell you:  ’So all that lovely rosewood furniture that I coveted so much, and the pretty dresses that I used to try on, are mine now!  All on easy terms that madame refused, I do not know why.  My word! if I might drive about in a carriage, have jewels and pretty things, a box at the theater, and put something by! with me he should lead a life of pleasure fit to kill him if he were not as strong as a Turk!  I never saw such a man!’—­Was not that just what you were thinking?” he went on, and something in his voice made Jenny turn pale.  “Well, yes, child; you could not stand it, and I am sending you away for your own good; you would perish in the attempt.  Come, let us part good friends,” and he coolly dismissed her with a very small sum of money.

The first use that Castanier had promised himself that he would make of the terrible power bought at the price of his eternal happiness, was the full and complete indulgence of all his tastes.

He first put his affairs in order, readily settled his account with M. de Nucingen, who found a worthy German to succeed him, and then determined on a carouse worthy of the palmiest days of the Roman Empire.  He plunged into dissipation as recklessly as Belshazzar of old went to that last feast in Babylon.  Like Belshazzar, he saw clearly through his revels a gleaming hand that traced his doom in letters of flame, not on the narrow walls of the banqueting chamber, but over the vast spaces of heaven that the rainbow spans.  His feast was not, indeed, an orgy confined within the limits of a banquet, for he squandered all the powers of soul and body in exhausting all the pleasures of earth.  The table was in some sort earth itself, the earth that trembled beneath his feet.  He was the last festival of the reckless spendthrift who has thrown all prudence to the winds.  The devil had given him the key of the storehouse of human pleasures; he had filled and refilled his hands, and he was fast nearing the bottom.  In a moment he had felt all that that enormous power could accomplish; in a moment he had exercised it, proved it, wearied of it.  What had hitherto been the sum of human desires became as nothing.  So often it happens that with possession the vast poetry of desire must end, and the thing possessed is seldom the thing that we dreamed of.