He saw before him the poor Polish girl, her only beauty shorn away for his sake, he saw all that he had promised in return, and he knew that he had nothing to give her, nothing, absolutely, save the crazy love of a wretched madman.

He could not even repay her the miserable money which had cost her so dear.

Out of his dreams of fortune there was not so much as a handful of coin left to give the girl who had given all she had, who had sold her hair to save his honour.

With frightful vividness the truth came over him.

That honour of his, he had pledged it in the recklessness of his madness.