midnight
I will not say that your mistresses will deceive you -- that would not grieve you so much as the loss of a horse -- but you can lose on the Bourse . For the first plunge is not the last , and even if you do not gamble , bethink you that your moneyed tranquillity , your golden happiness , are in the care of a banker who may fail . In short , I tell you , frozen as you are , you are capable of loving something ; some fibre of your being can be torn and you can give vent to cries that will resemble a moan of pain . Some day , wandering about the muddy streets , when daily material joys shall have failed , you will find yourself seated disconsolately on a deserted bench at midnight . O men of marble ! sublime egoists , inimitable reasoners , who have never given way to despair or made a mistake in arithmetic , if this ever happens to you , at the hour of your ruin you will remember Abelard when he lost Heloise . For he loved her more than you love your horses , your money , or your mistresses ; and in losing her he lost more than your monarch Satan would lose in falling again from the battlements of Heaven .