The life of a man who deliberately runs through his
fortune often becomes a business speculation; his friends, his
pleasures, patrons, and acquaintances are his capital. Suppose a
merchant runs a risk of a million, for twenty years he can neither
sleep, eat, nor amuse himself, he is brooding over his million, it
makes him run about all over Europe; he worries himself, goes to the
devil in every way that man has invented. Then comes a liquidation,
such as I have seen myself, which very often leaves him penniless and
without a reputation or a friend. The spendthrift, on the other hand,
takes life as a serious game and sees his horses run. He loses his
capital, perhaps, but he stands a chance of being nominated
Receiver-General, of making a wealthy marriage, or of an appointment of
attache to a minister or ambassador; and he has his friends left and
his name, and he never wants money. He knows the standing of everybody,
and uses every one for his own benefit. Is this logical, or am I a
madman after all? Haven't you there all the moral of the comedy that
goes on every day in this world? . . . Your work is completed' he went
on after a pause; 'you are immensely clever! Well, you have only
arrived at my starting-point.
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