The last words the stranger uttered in a tone that spoke of habitual internal suffering. The Baron took occasion once more to excuse himself, at the same time alluding to the uneasy feelings the stranger's earnest gaze had awakened within him.

Siegfried found it impossible to sleep, from the excitement of play-the wine he had drank, and the unusual feelings he had experienced. In the faint dawn, he seemed to have constantly before him the figure of the stranger. He saw that face attenuated, furrowed, and marked by sorrow; those deeply-set, melancholy eyes, "Would that my look could have penetrated to your whose glance had so disturbed him; and remembered, in heart," said the other, "and warned you of your dreadspite of his poor apparel, the dignity of his bearing, which ful danger. In your flush of youth, ingenuous, lightwas that of a well-educated gentleman. And with what hearted, unsuspecting-you stand on the verge of an mild, sad patience he had borne the harsh words of the abyss: a single step, and you plunge down, where there Baron! crushing down into his heart all bitterness of is no recovery. In a word, you are on the point of feeling, and leaving the hall without reply! "No," || becoming a passionate lover of gaming. It must be your cried Siegfried, "I have done him wrong-deep wrong! ruin in the end." Was it becoming me, to treat a gentleman in this boorish manner, and without the slightest cause?" He went on to convince himself that the earnest gaze of the stranger had been occasioned by an oppressive feeling of contrast-as he saw him-the Baron-amassing heaps of gold, while he felt himself pinched by bitter poverty. The Baron's final resolution was to seek the stranger, and offer an explanation of his conduct.

Accident favored him; for the first person he met, walking in the great avenue, was the stranger. The Baron accosted him, apologized for his behavior the preceding night, and asked pardon for the hasty language he had used. The stranger replied that he had! nothing to pardon, but rather to excuse himself for having placed himself again opposite the Baron, after having been informed that it disturbed his play. Siegfried went still further; spoke of the difficulties that too often embarrass those most deserving of prosperity, and gave his companion to understand that he was ready to employ the money he had won, and more, in his service, if he could thereby assist him.

"I perceive, sir," answered the stranger, "that you think me in need. I am not; for though I am far from rich, yet I have sufficient for my support, according to my simple way of living. And if I were in need, judge, sir, yourself, whether I, as a man of honor, could accept the gold you proffer by way of making amends for an injury you imagine me to have sustained at your hands." "I think I understand you," returned the Baron. hold myself ready to give you satisfaction in the manner you require."

"I

The Baron assured the stranger that he was mistaken. He explained how he had first been induced to play, and pledged himself to give it up as soon as he had lost a few hundred pieces-which he really wished to do. His luck, he assured him, was as unwelcome as inexpli

cable.

"Ah!" cried the stranger, "this luck is one of the artful machinations of infernal malice! Yes! this remarkable fortune of yours, Sir Baron-the circumstances under which you were induced to play—your whole manner in the game, which too plainly betrays your rising interest in it-all-all-remind me of the terrible fate of one, like you in many things-who began as you have done. It was this feeling that moved me, so that I could not turn my eyes from you-so that I could scarce restrain myself from telling you, in words, what you might have guessed from my looks! I saw-I saw foul pit! I would have called to you that destruction the demons clutching at you, eager to drag you into their was before you. I wished to make your acquaintance, and in this I have succeeded. If you will hear the story of the unhappy individual I mentioned, perhaps you will be convinced that I am under no delusion, if I look upon you as standing in imminent danger."

They went to a more retired spot, and seated themselves on a bench under a spreading tree. The stranger then began his narration.

The Chevalier Menars was, in youth, distinguished by the same brilliant endowments that have rendered, you, Sir Baron, the object of general admiration. In respect to property, however, fortune had not equally favored him. He had little; and only by observing the strictest economy, was he enabled to make such an appearance as became the descendant of a noble family. He had nothing to venture, and could not, therefore, indulge in play; nor had he any disposition towards the gaming-table. In other matters, success crowned his every undertaking; so that his luck became proverbial. "One night, contrary to his usual custom, he was

"Alas!" said the stranger, "how unequal would be a duel between us! I am sure you think, as I do, that a duel should not be rushed into from childish passion, and that a few drops of blood are unavailable to wash clean a man's sullied honor. But there are some cases in which it is rendered impossible that two men should exist upon earth together-lived the one on Caucasus, and the other on the Tiber—and here duelling is a neces-induced to accompany one of his friends to a gamblingsity, to decide which shall give place to the other. Between us, as I said before, it would be most unequal; as your life is worth far more than mine. In killing you, I should murder a world of bright hopes, while your hand,

house. The friend was soon deep in play. Quite unconcerned about all that was passing, and occupied with other thoughts, the Chevalier walked up and down the room, looking occasionally at the table, where the

heaps of gold were accumulating. Suddenly an old Colonel cried out, "Ho-ho! here is the Chevalier Menars, with his luck, amongst us; and we can win nothing, for he takes part with none of us! Come, sir, you shall play for me."

"The Chevalier plead his want of skill, and of experience in the game; but to no purpose. The Colonel would accept of no excuse; and he was compelled to seat himself at the table.

"It happened with the Chevalier exactly as with you, Baron, his luck was wonderful, and he soon won a very considerable sum for the Colonel, who could hardly contain his joy. This good fortune, though it astonished all the players, made not the least impression on the Chevalier himself. Nay, his aversion to play was greatly increased, so that the next morning, while he felt languid! and dull from the effects of his dissipation, he made a solemn vow never, under any circumstances, to be again found in a gaming-house.

"His resolution was only confirmed by the selfish solicitations of the old Colonel. You would be astonished to discover what superstition there is among gamblers, and the old man had blind confidence in the good luck of his young friend. Meanwhile, the story of his wonderful success, the first time he touched a card, went abroad, and there were some who scrupled not to accuse him of deep fraud in the matter, and to say that his alleged inexperience was all a piece of hypocrisy, to cover his designs, and preserve his character.

infect his soul! Before it withered and died the purity of his early youth.

"He could scarce wait for night, when he might renew his devotions at the unholy shrine. His luck continued; so that in a few weeks, during which he played every night, he had amassed a large sum.

"There are two kinds of players; those who enjoy the game, and the succession of chances, and those who play merely for the love of gain. To this latter class the Chevalier belonged. With the money he had won, he established a faro-bank, and here, also, fortune favored him to such a degree, that his bank was soon the richest in all Paris. His house became, also, more frequented than any other.

"The wild and lawless life of a professed gamester, ere long, deprived the Chevalier of those physical and mental accomplishments which had once gained him esteem. He ceased to be a faithful friend, a cheerful companion, or a courteous gentleman. His taste for art and for knowledge was extinguished with every noble ambition. On his death-pale cheek, in his dark, flashing eye, could be read one passion only, which held all his faculties in bondage-the love of gold: Satan had kindled in his bosom the flame of avarice, and it fed upon his heart.

"One night fortune was less favorable than usual to him, and he met with some trifling loss. In the course of the evening, there came in a little, old, withered man, of squalid appearance, who approached the table, took up a card with trembling hand, and laid down a gold piece. Many of the players looked at him in great astonishment, and most of them treated him with marked contempt. Their manner, however, did not affect him so as to move a muscle of his face, much less to provoke him to angry words.

"The old man lost-lost one stake after another; and the more he lost, the more loudly exulted the other playHe continued to play, doubling his stake each time, till he lost five hundred louisd'ors on a single card. The others laughed at, and taunted him. The old man

ers.

"About a year passed, and by an unexpected loss, the Chevalier was reduced to great strait. He confided his difficulties to his most intimate friend, who readily gave him assistance, while, at the same time, he reproved him for his obstinacy in rejecting the proffered gifts of fortune. "Our destiny,' said he, 'gives us all a hint in what direction to seek and find our fortune. But some are too indolent to perceive or understand. The power that rules over us, in your ear whispers loudly, 'Go and win gold at play, or else be miserable, needy and dependent.' "The thought now flashed upon the mind of the Chevalier how lucky he had been that night! After this-flung at them a basilisk glance, and hastily left the room; awake or dreaming, he saw nothing but cards before his eyes, and heard, in fancy, the monotonous call of the bankers the ringing of gold pieces. "It is true!" he said to himself; "it is the only means by which I may save myself from want, and avoid being a burden upon my friends. It is, therefore, my duty to follow the path pointed out by destiny."

"That night his friend accompanied him to the gaming-house, and lent him twenty louisd'ors to begin with. If he had been lucky when playing for the Colonel, 'he was now doubly so. He drew the cards blindly, but it seemed as if Chance had bound herself to his service. When he left the house, he was master of one thousand louisd'ors.

"He awoke next morning in a kind of intoxication. The gold lay in heaps upon his table. He thought himself dreaming; rubbed his eyes, touched the table, and drew his treasure nearer to him. As he thought over what had happened, and counted his riches again and again, he felt, for the first time, the poison of avarice

but returned in half an hour, with pockets full of gold. He again staked largely, and again lost all.

"The Chevalier, in spite of his own madness in his unhallowed pursuit, preserved some degree of dignity in his demeanor; and expressed himself much displeased at the open contempt that had been shown the old man. 'Oh!' cried one of the gamesters, 'you do not know old Francisco Vertua, Chevalier, or you would not complain of us, but rather applaud what we did. This Vertua, a Neapolitan by birth, has been fifteen years in Paris, and is the basest, wickedest miser and usurer in the world. He is a stranger to every human feeling; and were his own brother expiring at his feet, he would not give a single louisd'or to save him. The curses of many a wretch, ay, of whole families, who have been ruined by his machinations, are heavy on his head. Every body hates him who knows of his existence. He has never played before, long as he has been in Paris; so that you need not wonder at our astonishment to see the old miser at the table, nor our joy at his loss. The

.

wealth of your bank, Chevalier, has blinded the old isd'or shall you have from me. You shall not have the fool. He thought to pluck you, and has lost some of least aid in setting up again your detestable business. his own feathers. Ha! ha! Yet I cannot understand Fate has beat you down in the dust like a poisonous how Vertua, penurious as he is, could be brought to worm, and I will not lend a hand to raise you up again. play so high. Well! he will hardly come again! I Begone, and perish, as you deserve!' think we are rid of him!'

"Vertua covered his eyes with both hands, and groan

"A shudder passed through the old man's frame, but he answered in a firm voice, 'Now-this moment, Chevalier! Come with me.'

"

"This conjecture proved false; for the next nighted deeply. The Chevalier called his servant to place Vertua came again, and played and lost as before. He his box in the carriage, and said in a stern tone, 'When bore his ill fortune silently, but with a bitter smile. But will you deliver up to me your house and effects, Signor the passion of gaming had taken possession of him, and || Vertua?' he continued to play, night after night, in a sort of desperation. Ere long, he had paid thirty thousand louisd'ors to the bank. He came in one night, pale as death, with looks greatly disturbed, and stood at a distance from the table, his eyes fixed rigidly on the cards the Chevalier held in his hand. Just as Menars had shuffled the cards, cut them, and was beginning to deal, the old man rushed up to him and spoke in his ear with a stifled voice, 'Chevalier! my house in the street Saint Honore, with the furniture, plate and jewels, is valued at eighty thousand francs; will you hold the stake?' "Good!' replied the Chevalier, coldly, without turning round, and the game began.

"The Queen!' cried the old man, and the next moment the Queen was lost! The old man staggered back, and leaned motionless against the wall. None troubled themselves further about him.

"The game was ended; the players dispersed; the Chevalier was locking up in his casket the gold he had won, when old Vertua came towards him, pale and agitated, and said imploringly, A word, Chevalier, a single word!'

666

"Good!' replied Menars. You can lead the way to your house, and remain in it till the morning.' "Neither spoke on the way. Vertua at length pulled the bell of the house in the street Saint Honoré. An old woman opened, and cried, as she saw her master, 'The saints keep us! have you come at last, Signor Vertua ? Here has been Mademoiselle Angela, half dead with fright on your account.'

"Silence!' said Vertua. I hope to Heaven Angela has not heard that unlucky bell! She must not know I am come.' The old man then took the light out of the hand of the domestic, and led the way into a large apartment on the left hand.

but

"I am prepared for all,' said he. You hate me— you despise me, Chevalier. You have ruined me, you know me not. I was once a skilful player like yourself, and as favored by capricious fortune. I travelled over half the continent, amassing riches wherever I went. I had a lovely and faithful wife, whom I neglected, and who was miserable amidst all my wealth.

Well, what is it?' asked Menars, taking the key While my bank was established at Genoa, I succeeded

out of his box, and measuring the old man from head to foot with a contemptuous glance.

"I have lost to your bank,' said the old man, all I have in the world. I have nothing, nothing remaining; I know not where, to-morrow, I shall lay my head, or satisfy my hunger. All my hope is in you, Chevalier. Lend me, out of the sums you have won from me, only the tenth part, that I may commence business again, and

be saved from starvation.'

in despoiling a young Roman of his rich inheritance. As I besought you, so did he beseech me for a trifling loan, if only sufficient to enable him to return to Rome. I rejected his petition with scorn, and in despair he plunged his stiletto deep in my breast. My wound produced a long and dangerous illness. My wife watched over me with tenderest care, soothed my sufferings, and awakened better feelings in my heart. I made a vow never to touch a card again. I purchased a small country house near Rome, and went thither, with my wife, on my recovery. How happy was I the following year. My wife gave birth at last, to a daughter, and died a few weeks after. I was in despair; I accused Heaven, and execrated myself. I left my country seat, and came to Paris. Angela grew up the lovely image of her mother, and for her sake I wished to increase my property. I lent out money, it is true, at high interest, "I tell you,' answered Menars, 'I will lend you but it is a vile slander which charges me with usurious nothing of my gains.'

"Do you not know, Signor Vertua,' replied the Chevalier, that a banker must not lend money out of his gains? Such is the old rule, and I shall not depart

from it.'

"You are right, Chevalier,' cried Vertua, trembling with his eagerness; 'my request was unreasonable— absurd! The tenth part! no, no, lend me the twentieth part!'

"True, true,' stammered Vertua, growing paler, and trembling more violently, 'you can lend me nothing. I would not do it in your place! But give a beggar an alms; give him, out of the riches blind fortune has heaped on you to-day, an hundred louisd’ors.'

"In truth,' said the Chevalier, scornfully, 'you know how to personate the beggar, Signor Vertua! I tell you, not an hundred-not fifty-not twenty-not a single lou

fraud. My defamers are the spendthrifts who know not how to use money, but borrow, and then rave against me, because I claim what belongs, not to me, but to my daughter. I could tell you of much bitter abuse that I have suffered wrongfully; nay, I could tell you of prayers that have gone up to Heaven for me and for my Angela, from those we have relieved. But wherefore? you call it all folly-you are a gamester! I heard of your fortune, Chevalier! I heard daily of this and that person

reduced to beggary at your bank, and I thought I would || "He tried several times, in vain, to speak, and seemtry my own luck, which had never yet failed me, against ed to suffer some internal struggle. At last he said in a yours. This thought became a passion-a madness. I faltering voice, 'Signor Vertua! listen to me. I restore went to your bank-I went again and again, blinded by you all I have won from you. There stands my casket headstrong, delirious folly, till my-till my Angela's pos--it is yours with its contents. Nay, I must pay you sessions became yours! This is all I have to say. You yet more. I am still in your debt. Take it, take it' will permit my daughter to retain her wardrobe?' "Oh, my daughter!' cried Vertua, in exstasy; but Angela, rising with dignity, approached the Chevalier. 'Sir,' she said, while she fixed on him her proud, beautiful eyes, 'we have what is better than houses and gold, which you can neither bestow nor take away. Your gifts-your favors, we reject with scorn! Keep, sir, your wealth, on which rests a curse that shall follow you to the end of your life. There can be no peace for a heartless gamester!'