up to heaven for me and my
Angela; but you would look upon that as boasting, and besides, as you
are a gambler, you would care nothing about it. I hoped and believed
that the eternal power was appeased. All delusion, for Satan was freely
empowered to blind and deceive me in a more terrible manner than ever.
I heard of your luck, Chevalier. Every day I was told of this one and
the other having beggared himself at your banque. Then it came to me
that I was destined to pit my luck, which had never failed me, against
yours--that I was destined to put an end to your career. And this idea,
which nothing but madness of the most extraordinary kind could have
suggested to me, left me no further peace or rest. Thus I came to your
banque. Thus my terrible folly did not leave me until my fortune--no,
my Angela's fortune--was all yours. But you will let my daughter take
her clothes away with her, will you not?'

"'I have nothing to do with your daughter's clothes,' answered the
Chevalier; 'and you may take away the beds and the ordinary household
things for cooking and so forth. What do I care for rubbish of that
sort? But take care that nothing of any value of that which is now my
property goes away amongst them.'

"Old Vertua stared speechlessly at the Chevalier for a few seconds,
then a stream of tears burst from his eyes. Like a man annihilated, all
sorrow and despair, he sank down before the Chevalier with hands
uplifted.

"'Have you any human feeling left in your heart?' he cried. 'Have some
mercy! Remember it is not me whom you are dashing into ruin and misery,
but my unoffending angel child--my Angela! Oh, have mercy upon her!
Lend her the twentieth part of the fortune you have robbed her of. I
know you will allow yourself to be implored. Oh! Angela, my daughter!'

"And the old man moaned, sobbed, and called out the name of his child
in heart-breaking tones.

"'I really don't think I can stand much more of this stage business of
yours,' the Chevalier said indifferently, and in a bored manner. But
the door opened, and a girl in a white night dress, with her hair
undone, and death in her face, rushed up to old Vertua, raised
him, took him in her arms, and cried, 'Oh, father, I have heard it
all--I know it all! Have you lost everything?--everything? You have
still your Angela. What would be the use of money if you had not Angela
to take care of you. Oh, father! don't humiliate yourself more before
this despicable, inhuman