But the clock struck one, and then a quarter, and then a half, and then
three-quarters.
And Lucien was still seated at the infernal table.
At length, one minute before two o'clock, the keeper of the bank rose
abruptly, and said in a loud voice:
"The bank is broken, gentlemen--enough for to-day."
With a bound Lucien was on his feet. Roughly pushing aside the gamblers
who surrounded him and regarded him with envious admiration, he hurried
away quickly, sprang down the stairs and ran all the way to the stone
bench. In the distance, by the light of a lamp, he saw the little girl.
"God be praised!" he said; "she is still there."
He approached her, he took her hands.
"Oh! how cold she is, poor little one!"
He took her under the arms and raised her, so that he might carry her;
her head fell back without her awaking.
"How soundly children of her age sleep!"
He pressed her against his bosom to warm her, and, seized by a vague
inquietude, and, with a view to rousing her out of this heavy slumber,
he kissed her eyelids.
Then it was that he perceived with terror that these eyelids were half
open, showing half the eyeballs--glassy, lightless, motionless. Upon his
brain flashed a horrible suspicion. He placed his mouth close to that of
the little girl; no breath came from it.
While with the gold piece which he had stolen from this mendicant,
Lucien had won a fortune at the gaming table, the homeless child had
died--died of cold!