"_Rouge et noir_ I believe to be the fairest of all games," replied Atkinson; "but where there is a per centage invariably in favour of the bank, although one may win and another lose, still the profits must be in favour of the bank. If a man were to play all the year round, he would lose the national debt in the end. As for martingales, and all those calculations, which you observed them so busy with, they are all useless. I have tried everything, and there is only one chance of success, but then you must not be a gambler?" "Not a gambler?" "No; you must not be carried away by the excitement of the game, or you will infallibly lose. You must have a strength of mind which few have, or you will be soon cleaned out." "But you say that you win on the whole; have you no rule to guide you?" "Yes, I have; strange as the chances are, I have been so accustomed to them, that I generally put down my stake right; when I am once in a run of luck, I have a method of my own, but what it is I cannot tell; only this I know, that if I depart from it, I always lose my money. But that is what you may call good luck, or what you please--it is not a rule." "Where, then, are your rules?" "Simply these two. The first it is not difficult to adhere to: I make a rule never to lose but a certain sum if I am unlucky when I commence--say twenty stakes, whatever may be the amount of the stake that you play. This rule is easily adhered to, by not taking more money with you; and I am not one of those to whom the croupier or porters will lend money. The second rule is the most difficult, and decides whether you are a gambler or not. I make a rule always to leave off when I have won a certain sum--or even before, if the chances of my game fluctuate. There is the difficulty; it appears very foolish not to follow up luck, but the fact is, fortune is so capricious, that if you trust her more than an hour, she will desert you. This is my mode of play, and with me it answers; but it does not follow that it would answer with another. But it is very late, or rather, very early--I wish you a good-night." Chapter LIII I become principal instead of second in a duel, and risk my own and another's life, my own and others' happiness and peace of mind, because I have been punished as I deserved. After Captain Atkinson had left me, I stated to Timothy what had passed. "And do you think you will have to fight a duel, sir?" cried Timothy with alarm. "There is no doubt of it," replied I. "You never will find your father, sir, if you go on this way," said Timothy, as if to divert my attention from such a purpose. "Not in this world, perhaps, Tim; perhaps I may be sent the right road by a bullet, and find him in the next." "Do you think your father, if dead, has gone to heaven?" "I hope so, Timothy." "Then what chance have you of meeting him, if you go out of the world attempting the life of your old friend?"