On perusing this, La Klosking held _two_ white hands up to heaven in amazement at the skill and good taste which had dragged this feature into the incident. “A DRAMATIC SITUATION. “A circumstance has lately occurred here which will infallibly be seized on by the novelists in search of an incident. Mademoiselle Klosking, the new contralto, whose triumphant progress through Europe will probably be the next event in music, walked into the Kursaal the other night, broke the bank, and walked out again with twelve thousand pounds, and that charming composure which is said to distinguish her in private life. “What makes it more remarkable is that the lady is not a gamester, has never played before, and is said to have declared that she shall never play again. It is certain that, with such a face, figure, and voice as hers, she need never seek for wealth at the gambling-table. Mademoiselle Klosking is now in negotiation with all the principal cities of the Continent. But the English managers, we apprehend, will prove awkward competitors.” Were I to reproduce the nine other paragraphs, it would be a very curious, instructive, and tedious specimen of literature; and, who knows? I might corrupt some immaculate soul, inspire some actor or actress, singer or songstress, with an itch for public self-laudation, a foible from which they are all at present so free. Witness the _Era,_ the _Hornet,_ and _Figaro._ Ina Klosking spotted what she conceived to be a defect in these histories. “My friend,” said she meekly, “the sum I won was under five thousand pounds.” “Was it? Yes, to be sure. But, you see, these are English advertisements. Now England is so rich that if you keep down to any _Continental_ sum, you give a false impression in England of the importance on the spot.” “And so we are to falsify figures? In the first of these legends it was double the truth; and, as I read, it enlarges--oh, but it enlarges,” said Ina, with a Gallicism we shall have to forgive in a lady who spoke five languages. “Madam,” said Ashmead, dryly, “you must expect your capital to increase rapidly, so long as I conduct it.” Not being herself swift to shed jokes, Ina did not take them rapidly. She stared at him. He never moved a muscle. She gave a slight shrug of her grand shoulders, and resigned that attempt to reason with the creature. She had a pill in store for him, though. She told him that, as she had sacrificed the longings of her heart to the poor of the theater, so she should sacrifice a portion of her ill-gotten gains to the poor of the town. He made a hideously wry face at that, asked what poor-rates were for, and assured her that “pauper” meant “drunkard.” “It is not written so in Scripture,” said Ina; “and I need their prayers, for I am very unhappy.”