was　to　work　for　a　living；　he　laid　it　aside　to　make　copies　of　the　old
  masters　for　the　dealers；　thus　he　penetrated　the　secrets　of　their
  processes；　and　his　brush　is　therefore　one　of　the　best　trained　of　the
  modern　school。　The　shrewd　sense　of　an　artist　led　him　to　conceal　the
  profits　he　was　beginning　to　lay　by　from　his　mother　and　Madame
  Descoings；　aware　that　each　had　her　road　to　ruin；the　one　in　Philippe；
  the　other　in　the　lottery。　This　astuteness　is　seldom　wanting　among
  painters；　busy　for　days　together　in　the　solitude　of　their　studios；
  engaged　in　work　which；　up　to　a　certain　point；　leaves　the　mind　free；
  they　are　in　some　respects　like　women；their　thoughts　turn　about　the
  little　events　of　life；　and　they　contrive　to　get　at　their　hidden
  meaning。
  Joseph　had　bought　one　of　those　magnificent　chests　or　coffers　of　a　past
  age；　then　ignored　by　fashion；　with　which　he　decorated　a　corner　of　his
  studio；　where　the　light　danced　upon　the　bas…reliefs　and　gave　full
  lustre　to　a　masterpiece　of　the　sixteenth　century　artisans。　He　saw　the
  necessity　for　a　hiding…place；　and　in　this　coffer　he　had　begun　to
  accumulate　a　little　store　of　money。　With　an　artist's　carelessness；　he
  was　in　the　habit　of　putting　the　sum　he　allowed　for　his　monthly
  expenses　in　a　skull；　which　stood　on　one　of　the　compartments　of　the
  coffer。　Since　his　brother　had　returned　to　live　at　home；　he　found　a
  constant　discrepancy　between　the　amount　he　spent　and　the　sum　in　this
  receptacle。　The　hundred　francs　a　month　disappeared　with　incredible
  celerity。　Finding　nothing　one　day；　when　he　had　only　spent　forty　or
  fifty　francs；　he　remarked　for　the　first　time：　〃My　money　must　have　got
  wings。〃　The　next　month　he　paid　more　attention　to　his　accounts；　but　add
  as　he　might；　like　Robert　Macaire；　sixteen　and　five　are　twenty…three；
  he　could　make　nothing　of　them。　When；　for　the　third　time；　he　found　a
  still　more　important　discrepancy；　he　communicated　the　painful　fact　to
  Madame　Descoings；　who　loved　him；　he　knew；　with　that　maternal；　tender；
  confiding；　credulous；　enthusiastic　love　that　he　had　never　had　from　his
  own　mother；　good　as　she　was；a　love　as　necessary　to　the　early　life　of
  an　artist　as　the　care　of　the　hen　is　to　her　unfledged　chickens。　To　her
  alone　could　he　confide　his　horrible　suspicions。　He　was　as　sure　of　his
  friends　as　he　was　of　himself；　and　the　Descoings；　he　knew；　would　take
  nothing　to　put　in　her　lottery。　At　the　idea　which　then　suggested　itself
  the　poor　woman　wrung　her　hands。　Philippe　alone　could　have　committed
  this　domestic　theft。
  〃Why　didn't　he　ask　me；　if　he　wanted　it？〃　cried　Joseph；　taking　a　dab　of
  color　on　his　palette　and　stirring　it　into　the　other　colors　without
  seeing　what　he　did。　〃Is　it　likely　I　should　refuse　him？〃
  〃It　is　robbing　a　child！〃　cried　the　Descoings；　her　face　expressing　the
  deepest　disgust。
  〃No；〃　replied　Joseph；　〃he　is　my　brother；　my　purse　is　his：　but　he　ought
  to　have　asked　me。〃
  〃Put　in　a　special　sum；　in　silver；　this　morning；　and　don't　take
  anything　out；〃　said　Madame　Descoings。　〃I　shall　know　who　goes　into　the
  studio；　and　if　he　is　the　only　one；　you　will　be　certain　it　is　he。〃
  The　next　day　Joseph　had　proof　of　his　brother's　forced　loans　upon　him。
  Philippe　came　to　the　studio　when　his　brother　was　out　and　took　the
  little　sum　he　wanted。　The　artist　trembled　for　his　savings。
  〃I'll　catch　him　at　it；　the　scamp！〃　he　said；　laughing；　to　Madame
  Descoings。
  〃And　you'll　do　right：　we　ought　to　break　him　of　it。　I；　too；　I　have
  missed　little　sums　out　of　my　purse。　Poor　boy！　he　wants　tobacco；　he's
  accustomed　to　it。〃
  〃Poor　boy！　poor　boy！〃　cried　the　artist。　〃I'm　rather　of　Fulgence　and
  Bixiou's　opinion：　Philippe　is　a　dead…weight　on　us。　He　runs　his　head
  into　riots　and　has　to　be　shipped　to　America；　and　that　costs　the　mother
  twelve　thousand　francs；　he　can't　find　anything　to　do　in　the　forests　of
  the　New　World；　and　so　he　comes　back　again；　and　that　costs　twelve
  thousand　more。　Under　pretence　of　having　carried　two　words　of　Napoleon
  to　a　general；　he　thinks　himself　a　great　soldier　and　makes　faces　at　the
  Bourbons；　meantime；　what　does　he　do？　amuse　himself；　travel　about；　see
  foreign　countries！　As　for　me；　I'm　not　duped　by　his　misfortunes；　he
  doesn't　look　like　a　man　who　fails　to　get　the　best　of　things！　Somebody
  finds　him　a　good　place；　and　there　he　is；　leading　the　life　of　a
  Sardanapalus　with　a　ballet…girl；　and　guzzling　the　funds　of　his
  journal；　that　costs　the　mother　another　twelve　thousand　francs！　I　don't
  care　two　straws　for　myself；　but　Philippe　will　bring　that　poor　woman　to
  beggary。　He　thinks　I'm　of　no　account　because　I　was　never　in　the
  dragoons　of　the　Guard；　but　perhaps　I　shall　be　the　one　to　support　that
  poor　dear　mother　in　her　old　age；　while　he；　if　he　goes　on　as　he　does；
  will　end　I　don't　know　how。　Bixiou　often　says　to　me；　'He　is　a　downright
  rogue；　that　brother　of　yours。'　Your　grandson　is　right。　Philippe　will
  be　up　to　some　mischief　that　will　compromise　the　honor　of　the　family；
  and　then　we　shall　have　to　scrape　up　another　ten　or　twelve　thousand
  francs！　He　gambles　every　night；　when　he　comes　home；　drunk　as　a
  templar；　he　drops　on　the　staircase　the　pricked　cards　on　which　he　marks
  the　turns　of　the　red　and　black。　Old　Desroches　is　trying　to　get　him
  back　into　the　army；　and；　on　my　word　on　honor；　I　believe　he　would　hate
  to　serve　again。　Would　you　ever　have　believed　that　a　boy　with　such
  heavenly　blue　eyes　and　the　look　of　Bayard　could　turn　out　such　a
  scoundrel？〃
  CHAPTER　V
  In　spite　of　the　coolness　and　discretion　with　which　Philippe　played　his
  trifling　game　every　night；　it　happened　every　now　and　then　that　he　was
  what　gamblers　call　〃cleaned　out。〃　Driven　by　the　irresistible　necessity
  of　having　his　evening　stake　of　ten　francs；　he　plundered　the　household；
  and　laid　hands　on　his　brother's　money　and　on　all　that　Madame　Descoings
  or　Agathe　left　about。　Already　the　poor　mother　had　had　a　dreadful
  vision　in　her　first　sleep：　Philippe　entered　the　room　and　took　from　the
  pockets　of　her　gown　all　the　money　he　could　find。　Agathe　pretended　to
  sleep；　but　she　passed　the　rest　of　the　night　in　tears。　She　saw　the
  truth　only　too　clearly。　〃One　wrong　act　is　not　a　vice；〃　Madame
  Descoings　had　declared；　but　after　so　many　repetitions；　vice　was
  unmistakable。　Agathe　could　doubt　no　longer；　her　best…beloved　son　had
  neither　delicacy　nor　honor。
  On　the　morrow　of　that　frightful　vision；　before　Philippe　left　the　house
  after　breakfast；　she　drew　him　into　her　chamber　and　begged　him；　in　a
  tone　of　entreaty；　to　ask　her　for　what　money　he　needed。　After　that；　the
  applications　were　so　numerous　that　in　two　weeks　Agathe　was　drained　of
  all　her　savings。　She　was　literally　without　a　penny；　and　began　to　think
  of　finding　work。　The　means　of　earning　money　had　been　discussed　in　the
  evenings　between　herself　and　Madame　Descoings；　and　she　had　already
  taken　patterns　of　worsted　work　to　fill　in；　from　a　shop　called　the
  〃Pere　de　Famille；〃an　employment　which　pays　about　twenty　sous　a　day。
  Notwithstanding　Agathe's　silence　on　the　subject；　Madame　Descoings　had
  guessed　the　motive　of　this　desire　to　earn　money　by　women's…work。　The
  change　in　her　appearance　was　eloquent：　her　fresh　face　had　withered；
  the　skin　clung　to　the　temples　and　the　cheek…bones；　and　the　forehead
  showed　deep　lines；　her　eyes　lost　their　clearness；　an　inward　fire　was
  evidently　consuming　her；　she　wept　the　greater　part　of　the　night。　A
  chief　cause　of　these　outward　ravages　was　the　necessity　of　hiding　her
  anguish；　her　sufferings；　her　apprehensions。　She　never　went　to　sleep
  until　Philippe　came　in；　she　listened　for　his　step；　she　had　learned　the
  inflections　of　his　voice；　the　variations　of　his　walk；　the　very
  language　of　his　cane　as　it　touched　the　pavement。　Nothing　escaped　her。
  She　knew　the　degree　of　drunkenness　he　had　reached；　she　trembled　as　she
  heard　him　stumble　on　the　stairs；　one　night　she　picked　up　some　pieces
  of　gold　at　the　spot　where　he　had　fallen。　When　he　had　drunk　and　won；
  his　voice　was　gruff　and　his　cane　dragged；　but　when　he　had　lost；　his
  step　had　something　sharp；　short　and　angry　about　it；　he　hummed　in　a
  clear　voice；　and　carried　his　cane　in　the　air　as　if　presenting　arms。　At
  breakfast；　if　he　had　won；　his　behavior　was　gay　and　even　affectionate；
  he　joked　roughly；　but　still　he　joked；　with　Madame　Descoings；　with
  Joseph；　and　with　his　mother；　gloomy；　on　the　contrary；　when　he　had
  lost；　his　brusque；　rough　speech；　his　hard　glance；　and　his　depression；
  frightened　them。　A　life　of　debauch　and　the　abuse　of　liquors　debased；
  day　by　day；　a　countenance　that　was　once　so　handsome。　The　veins　of　the
  face　were　swollen　with　blood；　the　features　became　coarse；　the　eyes
  lost　their　lashes　and　grew　hard　and　dry。　No　longer　careful　of　his
  person；　Philippe　exhaled　the　miasmas　of　a　tavern　and　the　smell　of
  muddy　boots；　which；　to　an　observer；　stamped　him　with　debauchery。
  〃You　ought；〃　said　Madame　Descoings　to　Philippe　during　the　last　days　of
  December；　〃you　ought　to　get　yourself　new…clothed　from　head　to　foot。〃
  〃And　who　is　to　pay　for　it？〃　he　answered　sharply。　〃My