of　pomade　and　hair…oil　from　the　heads　of　all　his　visitors。　Splendor
  and　squalor　were　oddly　mingled；　on　the　walls；　the　bed；　and　everywhere。
  You　might　have　thought　of　a　Neapolitan　palace　and　the　groups　of
  lazzaroni　about　it。　It　was　the　room　of　a　gambler　or　a　mauvais　sujet；
  where　the　luxury　exists　for　one　individual；　who　leads　the　life　of　the
  senses　and　does　not　trouble　himself　over　inconsistencies。
  〃There　was　a　certain　imaginative　element　about　the　picture　it
  presented。　Life　was　suddenly　revealed　there　in　its　rags　and　spangles
  as　the　incomplete　thing　it　really　is；　of　course；　but　so　vividly　and
  picturesquely；　it　was　like　a　den　where　a　brigand　has　heaped　up　all　the
  plunder　in　which　he　delights。　Some　pages　were　missing　from　a　copy　of
  Byron's　poems：　they　had　gone　to　light　a　fire　of　a　few　sticks　for　this
  young　person；　who　played　for　stakes　of　a　thousand　francs；　and　had　not
  a　faggot；　he　kept　a　tilbury；　and　had　not　a　whole　shirt　to　his　back。
  Any　day　a　countess　or　an　actress　or　a　run　of　luck　at　ecarte　might　set
  him　up　with　an　outfit　worthy　of　a　king。　A　candle　had　been　stuck　into
  the　green　bronze　sheath　of　a　vestaholder；　a　woman's　portrait　lay
  yonder；　torn　out　of　its　carved　gold　setting。　How　was　it　possible　that
  a　young　man；　whose　nature　craved　excitement；　could　renounce　a　life　so
  attractive　by　reason　of　its　contradictions；　a　life　that　afforded　all
  the　delights　of　war　in　the　midst　of　peace？　I　was　growing　drowsy　when
  Rastignac　kicked　the　door　open　and　shouted：
  〃　'Victory！　Now　we　can　take　our　time　about　dying。'
  〃He　held　out　his　hat　filled　with　gold　to　me；　and　put　it　down　on　the
  table；　then　we　pranced　round　it　like　a　pair　of　cannibals　about　to　eat
  a　victim；　we　stamped；　and　danced；　and　yelled；　and　sang；　we　gave　each
  other　blows　fit　to　kill　an　elephant；　at　sight　of　all　the　pleasures　of
  the　world　contained　in　that　hat。
  〃　'Twenty…seven　thousand　francs；'　said　Rastignac；　adding　a　few　bank…
  notes　to　the　pile　of　gold。　'That　would　be　enough　for　other　folk　to
  live　upon；　will　it　be　sufficient　for　us　to　die　on？　Yes！　we　will
  breathe　our　last　in　a　bath　of　goldhurrah！'　and　we　capered　afresh。
  〃We　divided　the　windfall。　We　began　with　double…napoleons；　and　came
  down　to　the　smaller　coins；　one　by　one。　'This　for　you；　this　for　me；'　we
  kept　saying；　distilling　our　joy　drop　by　drop。
  〃　'We　won't　go　to　sleep；'　cried　Rastignac。　'Joseph！　some　punch！'
  〃He　threw　gold　to　his　faithful　attendant。
  〃　'There　is　your　share；'　he　said；　'go　and　bury　yourself　if　you　can。'
  〃Next　day　I　went　to　Lesage　and　chose　my　furniture；　took　the　rooms　that
  you　know　in　the　Rue　Taitbout；　and　left　the　decoration　to　one　of　the
  best　upholsterers。　I　bought　horses。　I　plunged　into　a　vortex　of
  pleasures；　at　once　hollow　and　real。　I　went　in　for　play；　gaining　and
  losing　enormous　sums；　but　only　at　friends'　houses　and　in　ballrooms；
  never　in　gaming…houses；　for　which　I　still　retained　the　holy　horror　of
  my　early　days。　Without　meaning　it；　I　made　some　friends；　either　through
  quarrels　or　owing　to　the　easy　confidence　established　among　those　who
  are　going　to　the　bad　together；　nothing；　possibly；　makes　us　cling　to
  one　another　so　tightly　as　our　evil　propensities。
  〃I　made　several　ventures　in　literature；　which　were　flatteringly
  received。　Great　men　who　followed　the　profession　of　letters；　having
  nothing　to　fear　from　me；　belauded　me；　not　so　much　on　account　of　my
  merits　as　to　cast　a　slur　on　those　of　their　rivals。
  〃I　became　a　'free…liver；'　to　make　use　of　the　picturesque　expression
  appropriated　by　the　language　of　excess。　I　made　it　a　point　of　honor　not
  to　be　long　about　dying；　and　that　my　zeal　and　prowess　should　eclipse
  those　displayed　by　all　others　in　the　jolliest　company。　I　was　always
  spruce　and　carefully　dressed。　I　had　some　reputation　for　cleverness。
  There　was　no　sign　about　me　of　the　fearful　way　of　living　which　makes　a
  man　into　a　mere　disgusting　apparatus；　a　funnel；　a　pampered　beast。
  〃Very　soon　Debauch　rose　before　me　in　all　the　majesty　of　its　horror；
  and　I　grasped　all　that　it　meant。　Those　prudent；　steady…going
  characters　who　are　laying　down　wine　in　bottles　for　their　heirs；　can
  barely　conceive；　it　is　true；　of　so　wide　a　theory　of　life；　nor
  appreciate　its　normal　condition；　but　when　will　you　instill　poetry　into
  the　provincial　intellect？　Opium　and　tea；　with　all　their　delights；　are
  merely　drugs　to　folk　of　that　calibre。
  〃Is　not　the　imperfect　sybarite　to　be　met　with　even　in　Paris　itself；
  that　intellectual　metropolis？　Unfit　to　endure　the　fatigues　of
  pleasure；　this　sort　of　person；　after　a　drinking　bout；　is　very　much
  like　those　worthy　bourgeois　who　fall　foul　of　music　after　hearing　a　new
  opera　by　Rossini。　Does　he　not　renounce　these　courses　in　the　same　frame
  of　mind　that　leads　an　abstemious　man　to　forswear　Ruffec　pates；　because
  the　first　one；　forsooth；　gave　him　the　indigestion？
  〃Debauch　is　as　surely　an　art　as　poetry；　and　is　not　for　craven　spirits。
  To　penetrate　its　mysteries　and　appreciate　its　charms；　conscientious
  application　is　required；　and　as　with　every　path　of　knowledge；　the　way
  is　thorny　and　forbidding　at　the　outset。　The　great　pleasures　of
  humanity　are　hedged　about　with　formidable　obstacles；　not　its　single
  enjoyments；　but　enjoyment　as　a　system；　a　system　which　establishes
  seldom　experienced　sensations　and　makes　them　habitual；　which
  concentrates　and　multiplies　them　for　us；　creating　a　dramatic　life
  within　our　life；　and　imperatively　demanding　a　prompt　and　enormous
  expenditure　of　vitality。　　War；　Power；　Art；　like　Debauch；　are　all　forms
  of　demoralization；　equally　remote　from　the　faculties　of　humanity；
  equally　profound；　and　all　are　alike　difficult　of　access。　But　when　man
  has　once　stormed　the　heights　of　these　grand　mysteries；　does　he　not
  walk　in　another　world？　Are　not　generals；　ministers；　and　artists
  carried；　more　or　less；　towards　destruction　by　the　need　of　violent
  distractions　in　an　existence　so　remote　from　ordinary　life　as　theirs？
  〃War；　after　all；　is　the　Excess　of　bloodshed；　as　the　Excess　of　self…
  interest　produces　Politics。　Excesses　of　every　sort　are　brothers。　These
  social　enormities　possess　the　attraction　of　the　abyss；　they　draw
  towards　themselves　as　St。　Helena　beckoned　Napoleon；　we　are　fascinated；
  our　heads　swim；　we　wish　to　sound　their　depths　though　we　cannot　account
  for　the　wish。　Perhaps　the　thought　of　Infinity　dwells　in　these
  precipices；　perhaps　they　contain　some　colossal　flattery　for　the　soul
  of　man；　for　is　he　not；　then；　wholly　absorbed　in　himself？
  〃The　wearied　artist　needs　a　complete　contrast　to　his　paradise　of
  imaginings　and　of　studious　hours；　he　either　craves；　like　God；　the
  seventh　day　of　rest；　or　with　Satan；　the　pleasures　of　hell；　so　that　his
  senses　may　have　free　play　in　opposition　to　the　employment　of　his
  faculties。　Byron　could　never　have　taken　for　his　relaxation　to　the
  independent　gentleman's　delights　of　boston　and　gossip；　for　he　was　a
  poet；　and　so　must　needs　pit　Greece　against　Mahmoud。
  〃In　war；　is　not　man　an　angel　of　extirpation；　a　sort　of　executioner　on
  a　gigantic　scale？　Must　not　the　spell　be　strong　indeed　that　makes　us
  undergo　such　horrid　sufferings　so　hostile　to　our　weak　frames；
  sufferings　that　encircle　every　strong　passion　with　a　hedge　of　thorns？
  The　tobacco　smoker　is　seized　with　convulsions；　and　goes　through　a　kind
  of　agony　consequent　upon　his　excesses；　but　has　he　not　borne　a　part　in
  delightful　festivals　in　realms　unknown？　Has　Europe　ever　ceased　from
  wars？　She　has　never　given　herself　time　to　wipe　the　stains　from　her
  feet　that　are　steeped　in　blood　to　the　ankle。　Mankind　at　large　is
  carried　away　by　fits　of　intoxication；　as　nature　has　its　accessions　of
  love。
  〃For　men　in　private　life；　for　a　vegetating　Mirabeau　dreaming　of　storms
  in　a　time　of　calm；　Excess　comprises　all　things；　it　perpetually
  embraces　the　whole　sum　of　life；　it　is　something　better　stillit　is　a
  duel　with　an　antagonist　of　unknown　power；　a　monster；　terrible　at　first
  sight；　that　must　be　seized　by　the　horns；　a　labor　that　cannot　be
  imagined。
  〃Suppose　that　nature　has　endowed　you　with　a　feeble　stomach　or　one　of
  limited　capacity；　you　acquire　a　mastery　over　it　and　improve　it；　you
  learn　to　carry　your　liquor；　you　grow　accustomed　to　being　drunk；　you
  pass　whole　nights　without　sleep；　at　last　you　acquire　the　constitution
  of　a　colonel　of　cuirassiers；　and　in　this　way　you　create　yourself
  afresh；　as　if　to　fly　in　the　face　of　Providence。
  〃A　man　transformed　after　this　sort　is　like　a　neophyte　who　has　at　last
  become　a　veteran；　has　accustomed　his　mind　to　shot　and　shell　and　his
  legs　to　lengthy　marches。　When　the　monster's　hold　on　him　is　still
  uncertain；　and　it　is　not　yet　known　which　will　have　the　better　of　it；
  they　roll　over　and　over；　alternately　victor　and　vanquished；　in　a　world
  where　everything　is　wonderful；　where　every　ache　of　the　soul　is　laid　to
  sleep；　where　only　the　shadows　of　ideas　are　revived。
  〃This　furious　struggle　has　already　become　a　necessity　for　us。　The
  prodigal　has　struck　a　bargain　for　all　the　enjoyments　with　which　life
  teems　abundantly；　at　the　price　of　his　own　death；　like　the　mythical
  persons　in　legends　who　sold　themselves　to　the　devil　for　the　power　of
  doing　evil。　For　them；　instead　of　flowing　quietly　on　in　its　monotonous
  course　in　the　depths　of　some　counting…house　or　study；　life　is　poured
  out　in　a　boiling　torrent。