How I hate the very cheerfulness and vapid
hilarity of these morning fools who greet
each other so complacently, and clatter
their nonsense about their "tumblers." I
could not endure it. The band was now
a damned, hellish, orchestra, hired by the
demons who had ruined me! It seemed to
thrill every nerve in my wretched system,
and to send my heart in wild leaps and
spasms dancing upwards. I could wish to
fling myself away headlong, to get free—to
escape—but I was bound fast, as if in a cell
in a jail, and did not see how it was all to
be resolved! It was as though I had a
fortune yesterday and was ruined to-day! It
was as good as ruin! Oh, folly! stupidly
blind dulness! or rather the devilish infernal
perverseness which was lying in wait for
me, and choosing the most luckless
moment, found a diabolical zest in stopping
me at every turn! I believe that—from my
soul, I do! There it is, where these
demons find their true relish and enjoyment;
just as a devilish man would find his in
mortifying you, or frustrating your plans.
No; it was too exceptional. I don't want
to be told according to the cant, "it was all
chance," or that the run was against me. I
believe, solemnly, it was regularly organised
below in the cellars of hell, that they
planned the whole expressly because they
knew me to be their sure and certain
enemy! They might well wish to be
revenged; for I did them mischief enough.
A fine return I have got, truly! Handed
over to them, made their victim, pillaged,
miserably destroyed for ever body and
soul! Where shall I look for that money?
Chance indeed! Could I not show my
piles of cards, marked for days, and weeks,
and I defy any man to point out such a
combination and tell me that I should have
stumbled accidentally on such a juncture!
No! it has the mark of its satanic authorship.
A poor wretch could struggle against
a taunting ruffian like D'Eyncourt, but
could not play against hell and its master!
With coolness, desperation, I should beat
them still; they would not be allowed to
have it all their own way.

I saw the clergyman of the place hurrying
past—he whom I had "set down" so
cleverly the first day almost, and who had
never forgiven the mortification. He looked
at me inquisitively, as if trying to make out
particulars in my face, by reporting which
he could gain consequence. A fine specimen
of the charity that delighteth in the evil of
no man! Of course he thought himself
superior, though he dared not, for his
credit's sake, expose himself to the temptation.
He saw all this contempt, and that I
read, and had read him before, like a book;
and uncommon poor reading he was! So
he passed on, but I caught him in the act
of looking back. Then he stopped and
returned to me.

"You look unwell," he said, "and quite
changed. You seem to excite yourself too
much."

"If I excite no one else," I replied,
coldly, "it becomes my own affair."

"I am sorry to see this," he said, "and,
you will forgive me for reminding you, I
did my best to warn you."

"Warners," I said, perfectly beside
myself at his impertinence, "would be sadly
grieved if their warnings did not come
true. In your pulpits you revel in
consigning people to tortures and punishments;
but, thank God, you have no
power to send us there!"

He looked at me a moment, and then
said, with assumed quietness, "I am very,
very sorry for this. I know your story, and
you do me wrong if you think I judge
harshly of you. I believe you mean well.
You have a charming household at home,
and God knows it is hard for even the best
of us to stand to our resolutions."

"The best of us," I said, "meaning, of
course, you and your cloth——But come,
I do not ask for your official services, and
there is no resolution of mine that concerns
the chaplain of the licensed gambling hells
of Homburg."

I think he must have shrunk under this
thrust. I had not lost my old powers of cut
and hit; but again he answered quietly:

"I mean no offence, and it is sincere
pity that makes me speak. Bear with me.
Do not suppose I am thinking of any
trifling money loss—twenty, or thirty, or
forty, or even a hundred pounds. Numbers
of the best and wisest do that, and no
shame to them. I myself, whom you
would say should be ex-officio perfect,
often commit things quite analogous in
their way. Indeed you mistake me; I
heard you were unfortunate, and as I
begged of you before not to go near the
danger, so do I now beg of you not to
make too much of the danger. It is after
all a trifle."

I was a little astonished at this new
tone, and even stopped a hard hit that was
actually on its way. I suppose he had
some object. Very likely the hell-keepers,
with whom he was on an agreeable footing,
had sent him to prevent anything
"unpleasant" taking place, or that might
shock the company. He went on: