ir of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.

In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
Philippe of Orleans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
absorbing ambition of his life.

Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
love.

So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
heart was broken before