He scrutinized that flat forehead within which the dandy asserted so many good ideas were hidden.

He measured that slim form bent by wild living, and asked himself how that degenerate being could struggle against the difficulties of business.

A smile played on his lips.

He knew Savinien too well not to be aware that he was a prey to one of those attacks of melancholy which seized on him when his funds were low.
On these occasions, which occurred frequently, the young man had longings for business, which Madame Desvarennes stopped by asking: "How much ?" Savinien allowed himself to be with difficulty induced to consent to renounce the certain profits promised, as he said, by his projected enterprise.

At last he would capitulate, and with his pocket well lined, nimble and joyful, he returned to his boudoirs, race-courses, fashionable restaurants, and became more than ever the galley-slave of pleasure.
"And Pierre ?" asked young Desvarennes, suddenly and quickly changing the subject.