and unable to answer her as my anger prompted, I sat down,
with my heart overflowing with spite and hatred against her. To crown my
rage, having one day to address me, she asked me what was my name. She
had seen me every day for a fortnight, ever since I had been the adjutant
of M. D---- R----; therefore she ought to have known my name. Besides, I
had been very lucky at the gaming-table, and I had become rather famous
in Corfu. My anger against Madame F was at its height.

I had placed my money in the hands of a certain Maroli, a major in the
army and a gamester by profession, who held the faro bank at the
coffee-house. We were partners; I helped him when he dealt, and he
rendered me the same office when I held the cards, which was often the
case, because he was not generally liked. He used to hold the cards in a
way which frightened the punters; my manners were very different, and I
was very lucky. Besides I was easy and smiling when my bank was losing,
and I won without shewing any avidity, and that is a manner which always
pleases the punters.

This Maroli was the man who had won all my money during my first stay in
Corfu, and finding, when I returned, that I was resolved not to be duped
any more, he judged me worthy of sharing the wise maxims without which
gambling must necessarily ruin all those who meddle with it. But as
Maroli had won my confidence only to a very slight extent, I was very
careful. We made up our accounts every night, as soon as playing was
over; the cashier kept the capital of the bank, the winnings were
divided, and each took his share away. Lucky at play, enjoying good
health and the friendship of my comrades, who, whenever the opportunity
offered, always found me generous and ready to serve them, I would have
been well pleased with my position if I had been a little more considered
at the table of M. D---- R-----, and treated with less haughtiness by his
lady who, without any reason, seemed disposed to humiliate me. My
self-love was deeply hurt, I hated her, and, with such a disposition of
mind, the more I admired the perfection of her charms, the more I found
her deficient in wit and intelligence. She might have made the conquest
of my heart without bestowing hers upon me, for all I wanted was not to
be compelled to hate her, and I could not understand what pleasure it
could be for her to be detested, while with only a little kindness she
could have been adored. I could not ascribe her manne