, and they
who had seen him win his money,--Frenchmen and Italians for the most
part,--had declared among themselves that his luck had been most
miraculous. It was observed that he had a companion with him, who stuck
close to his elbow, and it was asserted that this companion continually
urged him to leave the room. But as long as the croupier remained at the
table he remained, and continued to play through the day with almost
invariable luck. It was surmised among the gamblers there that he had
not entered the room with above twenty or thirty pieces in his pocket,
and that he had taken away with him, when the place was closed, six
hundred napoleons. "Look there; he has come again to give it all back to
Madame Blanc, with interest," said a Frenchman to an Italian.

"Yes; and he will end by blowing his brains out within a week. He is
just the man to do it."

"These Englishmen always rush at their fate like mad bulls," said the
Frenchman. "They get less distraction for their money than any one."

"Che va piano va sano," said the Italian, jingling the four napoleons in
his pocket, which had been six on yesterday morning. Then they sauntered
up to the Englishman, and both of them touched their hats to him. The
Englishman just acknowledged the compliment, and walked off with his
companion, who was still whispering something into his ear.

"It is a gendarme who is with him, I think," said the Frenchman, "only
the man does not walk erect."

Who does not know the outside hall of the magnificent gambling-house at
Monte Carlo, with all the golden splendor of its music-room within? Who
does not know the lofty roof and lounging seats, with its luxuries of
liveried servants, its wealth of newspapers, and every appanage of
costly comfort which can be added to it? And its music within,--who does
not know that there are to be heard sounds in a greater perfection of
orchestral melody than are to be procured by money and trouble combined
in the great capitals of Europe? Think of the trouble endured by those
unhappy fathers of families who indulge their wives and daughters at the
Philharmonic and St. James's Hall! Think of the horrors of our theatres,
with their hot gas, and narrow passages, and difficulties of entrance,
and almost impossibility of escape! And for all this money has to be
paid,--high prices,--and the day has to be fixed long beforehand, so that
the tickets may be secured, and the daily feast,--papa's too often
solita