send me out into the street raging, frantic,
or to those woods yonder?—take care!"

"Oh, folly!" he said, "I want to do
nothing so foolish. What object is it to
me what you do? I do see the state you
are in, and therefore, if I may give you a
bit of advice, I would take care, I would,
indeed. You are in a very ticklish way.
Tell me honestly what you have lost. Two
hundred, D'Eyncourt said."

"Something under that," I answered.
"But it is all one."

"That is as you look at it," he answered.
"The dock isn't one." I started
at this ugly word. "I tell you what," he
said eagerly, "this is a matter you can't
get over in this way. You must do something,
my friend, then, desperate or not;
a man in your situation can't be nice.
Halloo, Stopford—come from Zero?"

"I wish I had; I am running home for
some cash. Why Zero hasn't been heard
of since five o'clock. As I live, no."

"Now is the time," said Grainger, leaping
up. "Come in all of us, or it will be too
late."

Was this a call or an inspiration? I did
not much care now. Yet I went in with
them. There was a vast crowd stooping
over; Grainger elbowed his way to the
table. "Pas de Zéro encore?" he said
familiarly to the croupier. The other
answered gruffly, "No."

Every one was "piling on the agony,"
as a man called it, for it seemed certain
that the overdue Zero must arrive, every
moment. Here were ten, twenty, thirty
louis on, and here were men increasing
their stake every moment. There was the
awful sense of contagion, which the mere
looking on produces; it made me tremble
with a sense that I was helpless and could
not resist, and yet I was calm. Grainger
had clutched my arm.

"Think of what I said; this is an ugly
business, the rope and the dock, my friend.
Here's a chance of a reprieve, and you're
a fool if you don't try it. As well suffer
for a sheep as for a lamb."

This coarse allusion embodied whatever
was floating in my mind. He was only
right to speak so, for I had, of course,
forfeited all title to any but the plainest
speaking. The strangest thing was the
calm way in which I could look at, and
measure the situation so accurately. He
was right—a few louis more or less did not
lessen or increase my crime. And even
the man I had so basely injured would
approve of my investing a trifle, as it were,
to get him back what I had robbed him of.
That is the correct word. In a moment I
resolved to use five or seven louis for this
purpose. I took out a hundred-franc
note and presented it to be changed by the
croupier, with the usually suspicious alacrity.
He looked up at my face suspiciously, but this
was only my suspicion. They look at every
one's face to whom they pay their vile and
deceptive courtesies. I wonder how I go
through all this so calmly. But it will
only be for a short time longer. And as I
sit here, I vow to that Heaven I have so
outraged, I meant well in this last stage of
my villany. I put down my gold piece, and
scarcely found room. I did not go through
the hyprocrisy of a prayer. It disappeared,
I put down again. "It must come this
time," said Grainger. It flew away. A
third, a fourth, a fifth "D—n! d—v—sh!"
I heard some such mutterings from
Grainger, whose own silver had been going
too. In these curses—I shall conceal
nothing—I half joined. This devilish
obstinacy, I would like to meet with
obstinacy as fiendship. Then it for the first
time struck me, even if this wonderful
fortune occurred to me, what a beggarly
return it would be—just thirty-five
pieces, which would not near indemnify.
A devilish obstinacy, I said again. I felt a
sort of rage, and fury as devilish, and as
I say an obstinacy, that would have made
me put down everything, take a knife, gash
my arm, let the blood stream out on their
cursed board, if they wanted that! A soul's
eternal fate—they would not care, for it is
not to be made into money. They leave
that to him whose business it is properly.
.  .  .  .  .  Every one round me is saying it
must come up in three or four coups more.
There are many damp brows round me, but
mine is strangely cool. No sign of it; but
they shall not beat me. They don't know
whom they have to deal with; five this
time, and five gone. The grey-headed
croupier says he never recollects such a
thing, but he will bet "it will arrive within
ten minutes." Every one still piling. So
shall I, by the Heaven above me. I am too
far gone to draw back, and here are three
hundred-franc notes—it is too slow changing
them. Oh, vile, vile, wretches to have
brought me to this, to have drawn me into
these toils! The curse of the wretched
and the ruined, of the widows and wives,
and children that turn out wicked, follow
you, and stifle you on your death-beds!
May your gilded rooms and your painted
roofs come tumbling on you in ruins; may
your—but I must go on, and tell all
calmly. It is no use counting the notes to