Now, what can you do?
Without money, nothing; as you know by this time.

You are not a man who can begin a new career by taking off your coat and going to work in your shirt-sleeves with the tools of an artisan.

Besides, your mother loves you, and she would die to see you come to that." Oscar sat down and no longer restrained his tears, which flowed copiously.

At last he understood this language, so completely unintelligible to him ever since his first fault.
"Men without means ought to be perfect," added Moreau, not suspecting the profundity of that cruel sentence.
"My fate will soon be decided," said Oscar.

"I draw my number the day after to-morrow.