"They are not consulted," said Serge, gayly.

"Then there are races and regattas," continued Savinien.

"In which case you bet on the horses?" interrupted Marechal.

"Or on the boats."

"In fact, betting is applied to all circumstances of life?"

"Exactly; and to crown all, we have the Cercle, where we go in the
evening. Baccarat triumphs there. It is not very varied either: A
hundred louis? Done--Five. I draw. There are some people who draw at
five. Nine, I show up, I win or I lose, and the game continues."

"And that amid the glare of gas and the smoke of tobacco," said Marechal,
"when the nights are so splendid and the orange-trees smell so sweetly.
What a strange existence!"

"An existence for idiots, Marechal," sighed Savinien, "that I, a man of
business, must submit to, through my aunt's domineering ways! You know
now how men of pleasure spend their lives, my friend, and you might write
a substantial resume entitled, 'The Fool's Breviary.' I am sure it would
sell well."

Madame Desvarennes, who had heard the last words, was no longer
listening. She was lost in a deep reverie. She was much altered since
grief and trouble had come upon her; her face was worn, her temples
hollow, her chin was more prominent. Her eyes had sunk into her head,
and were surrounded by dark rims.