It did not surprise me in the least that all these men and women in their health and attractiveness carried themselves with cynical, almost sneering hauteur. They might well do so--as the world judges these material things--for they are certainly far removed from the rank and file of the streets; and to see them extracting from their purses and their pockets handfuls of gold, unfolding layers of crisp notes that represented a thousand francs each, and with an almost indifferent air laying them on their favorite numbers or combinations was to my unaccustomed eye a gripping experience. Yet I was not interested in gambling--only in the people who played. I know that to the denizens of this world who are fascinated by chance and find their amusement in such playing, this atmosphere is commonplace. It was not so to me. I watched the women--particularly the beautiful women--who strolled about the chambers with their escorts solely to show off their fine clothes. You see a certain type of youth here who seems to be experienced in this gay world that drifts from one resort to another, for you hear such phrases as “Oh, yes, I saw her at Aix-les-Bains,” or, “She was at Karlsbad last summer.” “Is that the same fellow she was with last year? I thought she was living with --” (this of a second individual). “My heaven, how well she keeps up!” or, “This must be her first season here--I have never seen her before.” Two or three of these young bloods would follow a woman all around the rooms, watching her, admiring her beauty quite as a horseman might examine the fine points of a horse. And all the while you could see that she was keenly aware of the critical fire of these eyes. [Illustration: “My heaven, how well she keeps up!”]