Georges and his partner lost five games running.  After losing the thousand francs Oscar was seized with the fury of play and insisted on taking the cards himself.  By the result of a chance not at all uncommon with those who play for the first time, he won.  But Georges bewildered him with advice; told him when to throw the cards, and even snatched them from his hand; so that this conflict of wills and intuitions injured his vein.  By three o’clock in the morning, after various changes of fortune, and still drinking punch, Oscar came down to his last hundred francs.  He rose with a heavy head, completely stupefied, took a few steps forward, and fell upon a sofa in the boudoir, his eyes closing in a leaden sleep.

“Mariette,” said Fanny Beaupre to Godeschal’s sister, who had come in about two o’clock, “do you dine here to-morrow?  Camusot and Pere Cardot are coming, and we’ll have some fun.”

“What!” cried Florentine, “and my old fellow never told me!”

“He said he’d tell you to-morrow morning,” remarked Fanny Beaupre.

“The devil take him and his orgies!” exclaimed Florentine.  “He and Camusot are worse than magistrates or stage-managers.  But we have very good dinners here, Mariette,” she continued.  “Cardot always orders them from Chevet’s; bring your Duc de Maufrigneuse and we’ll make them dance like Tritons.”

Hearing the names of Cardot and Camusot, Oscar made an effort to throw off his sleep; but he could only mutter a few words which were not understood, and then he fell back upon the silken cushions.

“You’ll have to keep him here all night,” said Fanny Beaupre, laughing, to Florentine.

“Oh! poor boy! he is drunk with punch and despair both.  It is the second clerk in your brother’s office,” she said to Mariette.  “He has lost the money his master gave him for some legal affair.  He wanted to drown himself; so I lent him a thousand francs, but those brigands Finot and Giroudeau won them from him.  Poor innocent!”

“But we ought to wake him,” said Mariette.  “My brother won’t make light of it, nor his master either.”

“Oh, wake him if you can, and carry him off with you!” said Florentine, returning to the salon to receive the adieux of some departing guests.

Presently those who remained began what was called “character dancing,” and by the time it was broad daylight, Florentine, tired out, went to bed, oblivious to Oscar, who was still in the boudoir sound asleep.

CHAPTER X

ANOTHER CATASTROPHE

About eleven the next morning, a terrible sound awoke the unfortunate clerk.  Recognizing the voice of his uncle Cardot, he thought it wise to feign sleep, and so turned his face into the yellow velvet cushions on which he had passed the night.

“Really, my little Florentine,” said the old gentleman, “this is neither right nor sensible; you danced last evening in ‘Les Ruines,’ and you have spent the night in an orgy.  That’s deliberately going to work to lose your freshness.  Besides which, it was ungrateful to inaugurate this beautiful apartment without even letting me know.  Who knows what has been going on here?”