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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 41 pages of information about Zibeline Volume 1.

“Four thousand five hundred!” This was the final stroke.  The last hand had wiped out, by eight thousand points, the possessions of Landry’s adversary.  The former losses of the unfortunate Marquis were now augmented by one hundred and forty thousand francs.  Henri became very pale, but, summoning all his pride to meet the glances of the curious, he arose, rang a bell, and called for a pen and a sheet of stamped paper.  Then, turning to Paul Landry, he said, calmly “Monsieur, I owe you four hundred thousand francs.  Debts of honor are payable within twenty-four hours, but in order to realize this sum, I shall require more time.  How long a delay will you grant me?”

“As long as you wish, Monsieur.”

“I thank you.  I ask a month.”

A waiter appeared, bringing the pen and paper.

“Oh, your word will be sufficient for me,” said Landry.

“Pardon me!” said the Marquis.  “One never knows what may happen.  I insist that you shall accept a formal acknowledgment of the debt.”

And he wrote: 

“I, the undersigned, acknowledge that I owe to Monsieur Paul Landry the sum of four hundred thousand francs, which I promise to pay in thirty days, counting from this date.”

He dated, signed, and folded the paper, and handed it to Paul Landry.  Then, glancing at the clock, whose hands pointed to a quarter before four, he said: 

“Permit me to take leave of you, gentlemen.  I have barely time to reach Vincennes before roll-call.”

He lighted a cigar, saluted the astonished assembly with perfect coolness, slowly descended the stairs, and jumped into his carriage, the chasseur of the restaurant holding open the door for him.

“To Vincennes!” he cried to the coachman; “and drive like the devil!”

CHAPTER V

A DESPERATE RESOLUTION

The chimneys and roofs of the tall houses along the boulevards stood out sharp and clear in the light of the rising sun.  Here and there squads of street-cleaners appeared, and belated hucksters urged their horses toward the markets; but except for these, the streets were deserted, and the little coupe that carried Caesar and his misfortunes rolled rapidly toward the Barriere du Trone.

With all the coach-windows lowered, in order to admit the fresh morning air, the energetic nobleman, buffeted by ill-luck, suddenly raised his head and steadily looked in the face the consequences of his defeat.  He, too, could say that all was lost save honor; and already, from the depths of his virile soul, sprang the only resolution that seemed to him worthy of himself.

When he entered his own rooms in order to dress, his mind was made up; and although, during the military exercises that morning, his commands were more abrupt than usual, no one would have suspected that his mind was preoccupied by any unusual trouble.

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