One day succeeded another, and each morning saw Arnoldo Meschini
crossing the Ponte Quattro Capi on his way to the apothecary's. In
the ordinary course of human nature a man does not become an
opium-eater in a day, nor even, perhaps, in a week, but to the
librarian the narcotic became a necessity almost from the first.
Its action, combined with incessant doses of alcohol, was
destructive, but the man's constitution was stronger than would
have been believed. He possessed, moreover, a great power of
controlling his features when he was not assailed by supernatural
fears, and so it came about that, living almost in solitude, no
one in the Palazzo Montevarchi was aware of his state. It was bad
enough, indeed, for when he was not under the influence of brandy
he was sleeping from the effects of opium. In three days he was
willing to pay anything the apothecary asked, and seemed scarcely
conscious of the payments he made. He kept up a show of playing
the accustomed game of cards, but he was absent-minded, and was
not even angry at his daily losses. The apothecary had more money
in his pocket than he had possessed for many a day. As Arnoldo
Meschini sank deeper and deeper, the chemist's spirits rose, and
he began to assume an air of unwonted prosperity.
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