Glittering Paris, wonderful city! How the lights from the bridges twinkled on the wind-wrinkled Seine! Over there lay the third wealth of the world; luxury, vice, pleasure.

Eh, well, he could not fight it, but he could curse it deeply and violently, which he did.
"Wait, Moloch, wait; you and I are not done with each other yet! Wait! I shall come back, and when I do, look to yourself! Two million francs, and every one of them mine!" He laid his head on his hands.

It ached dully.

Perhaps it was the wine..