rat of All the Russias and yet contented himself with
sipping a harmless mineral water; who kept and directed a huge gambling
machine--a mighty conglomeration of gorgeously decorated halls, wine
parlors and music rooms, crammed day and night by giddy and excited
throngs, but himself never indulging in anything more exciting than an
after-dinner game of dominoes or a quiet drive with his wife through the
country lanes.
Thus this Francois Blanc, with perfect equanimity, watched the thousand
thousands of butterflies and moths of society scorch their wings in the
terrific flame that glowed in his Casino, while he looked on, a cynical
observer, despising the fools enraptured with roulette and fascinated
with rouge-et-noir.
But one thing he was not afraid of, and that was spending money. To
compass his business ends he laid it out lavishly, and in the end he
drew all Europe to Wiesbaden. Still broader and still deeper he laid the
foundations of the fortune that ultimately grew to colossal proportions.
But he did not make Wiesbaden famous without keen opposition. He made
the fortune of the beggarly Prince Karl and the whole hungry crowd of
royal highnesses in spite of themselves. At every fresh opposition he
simply opened his purse and a golden shower fell on them.
It required a hard head to withstand the attacks made on him when it
became known that he had bought up both prince and municipality, and
proposed to make Wiesbaden par excellence the gambling city of the
Continent. But, despite of all, he pushed on his plans to wonderful
success. A great park was laid out and stately buildings arose, all
dedicated to the goddess of chance. Slim was the chance the votaries of
the game had in his gorgeous halls. He threw out his money in millions,
but he knew the weak, foolish heart of man, the egotism of each and
every one of us, that leads us to ignore for ourselves the immutable law
of numbers. So he counted upon his returns, and never counted in vain.
As I say, he had a hard head to withstand the attacks made upon him.
Every day the post brought hundreds of letters containing propositions
of threats from people who had lost their money and demanded its return
with fierce threats, pitiful supplications and warnings of intended
suicide, place, date and hour carefully specified, so there could be no
mistake, and more than one attempt was made upon his life. But the
equanimity of Francois Blanc was equal to all adventures. Thr
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