skin, and it won't scratch. Let the knotted
cords of your discipline be of worsted furniture
cord, and it won't hurt. Let the fish which you
are allowed to eat, be made into savoury cakes,
and let your lentils be stewed in fresh cream,
and so it may be brought about that you shall
be a first-rate anchorite, without inflicting
much torment on your flesh, and an ascetic of
the highest order, without introducing anything
but what is good and toothsome into your
penitential diet.

FATAL ZERO.
A DIARY KEPT AT HOMBURG: A SHORT SERIAL STORY.
CHAPTER XVIl.—Continued.

TEN O'CLOCK.—How cool I can take up this
pen and write, forming letters and words
very carefully and neatly, and yet I am
numbed, dulled, almost stupefied, and can
imagine a mother who has heard of all her
children being swept off at one coup. Ah!
that word! Not growing frantic or mad,
but being quite calm, I can even take out
these notes, and count them.  .  .  .  . Yes,
here is the total:

Sixteen louis won back, all lost; lost,
also, one hundred of Mr. Bernard's money;
total loss of the night, one hundred and
sixteen, besides the sixty lost before! This
is the accurate sum. It does not matter
what is left.

I shall put down everything, so that it
shall be all read hereafter by those whom
it shall most concern if there are any
such. I am very glad I kept this diary so
minutely, as it will show the gradual stages
of the whole fall. God—God Almighty
forgive me! What a fall! And my sanctimonious
jumble of prayers before each act
of theft—for so it is—theft and embezzlement.
O Pharisee, hypocrite! This was
my piety and my prayers. O my poor, lost,
loved little Dora, there is a gulf between
us now, wider than the sea between Calais
and Dover. A letter (I never see these
letters now, except by accident, my eyes
are growing so dim). I see—from the
banker himself. Nothing could be better.
He will be in Homburg himself to-morrow
at two, and will call at my lodgings to
receive his money. He hopes I will be
punctual this time, as he has some very
important business with me, owing to a
letter he received from Mr. Bernard. He
is glad to find that I had been too late
to get a letter of credit, as it would not be
wanted. Quite right and proper—everything
is coming gradually to a head. I
must sit on here calmly till morning, and
look at the situation; and I am
astonished how calmly I can do it. I must
do something, it matters not what, and
don't in the least care; but still something
must be chosen as a course. The felon
always decides on a course, either to fly,
or give himself up, or make confession.
Which of the two last would be the
simplest? .  .  .  .

Madness, crime, folly, embezzlement!
O Dora, Dora! I hold my temples with
my hands pressed close. I could cast
myself on the ground, and roll in the dust.
O Heavens fall on me and cover me! Yet
it was insanity. Devilish fingers—not
mine—were tearing the notes from my
pocket. As they fluttered away for ever
it seemed to me the only way to stop them
was to clutch at them. There, I hear a
step—it is Grainger.

Midnight.—I can still write it all quite
calmly and leisurely, for I am determined
all the stages of this business shall go down
minutely. It will make such a record,
and may, perhaps, be of use to others.

I am so glad to see a face that is familiar;
and when he asks will I come out and sit
under the colonnade, I agree mechanically.

"So you have been sent supplies of
money?" he said. "That D'Eyncourt told
me he saw you sowing your louis thickly,
putting down like a man. Have you come
in for a fortune?"

"No," I said.

"Then how did you manage it?"

"Don't worry me now with questions,"
I said; "don't for God's sake!"

"O I see, I understand—a delicate
matter. And I don't want to pry into
any man's affairs. However, as you have
money, perhaps you would let me have my
little loan, or rather—D'Eyncourt."

"D'Eyncourt! What do you mean?" I
said.

"I say his money. Why, were you pastoral
enough to suppose that a poor devil
like me could lend money? No; I asked
him for you, and pressed it, too. What
friend, I'd like to know, goes borrowing for
a friend?"

"You did this," I said, covering my
face: "yet it is only one more gulf of
degradation."

"Degradation! Then pay him at once.
Here, put it in my hands, or pay him
yourself."

"Yes, yes. He must be paid."

"Yes he must, if he hasn't gone telling
it about. But my good friend," he added
slowly, "if he is only to be paid in a certain
way, that is by diverting other funds——"

"You are going too far, Grainger. What
are you speaking to me in this way for? Do
you see the state I am in? Do you want to