almost impossible for the gambler not to dishonor himself for a few years. As for myself," he added, with a gloomier manner and in a less vibrant voice, "after enduring for a long time this life of torture and convulsions with the chivalrous heroism which was the foundation of my character, I allowed myself to be corrupted at last; that is to say, my strength being gradually exhausted by this constant conflict, I lost the stoical courage with which I had accepted reverses, endured the privations of ghastly poverty, recommenced the building of my fortune, sometimes with a single sou, waited, hoped, advanced warily and step by step, sacrificing a whole month to repair the losses of a single day. Such was my life for a long while. But at last, weary of suffering, I began to seek outside of my own will, outside of my virtue,--for it must be admitted that the gambler has a virtue of his own,--the means of regaining more quickly what I had lost; I borrowed and from that moment I was lost myself. At first a man suffers cruelly when he finds himself in an indelicate position; but eventually he gets used to it, as to everything else, becomes numb and indifferent. I did as all gamblers and spendthrifts do; I became dangerous and harmful to my friends. I heaped upon their heads the evils which I had for a long time bravely borne on my own. It was very culpable; I risked my own honor, then the honor and the lives of my nearest and dearest, as I had risked my money. There is this that is horrible about gambling, that it gives you none of those lessons which it is impossible to forget. It is always there, beckoning to you! That inexhaustible pile of gold is always before your eyes. It follows you about, it coaxes you, it bids you hope, and sometimes it keeps its promises, restores your courage, re-establishes your credit, seems to postpone dishonor again; but dishonor is consummated the moment that honor is voluntarily put in peril." Here Leoni hung his head and relapsed into moody silence; the confession that perhaps he had intended to make to me died on his lips. I saw by his shame and his depression that it was quite useless to expose the sophistical arguments of his disordered brain; his conscience had already undertaken that task. "Listen to me," he said, when we were reconciled. "To-morrow I close the house to all my friends and go to Milan, where I have to collect a considerable sum that is still due me. While I am gone, take good care of yourself, get well, arrange all the claims of our creditors, and make preparations for our departure. In a week, or a fortnight at most, I will return and pay our debts, take you away, and live with you wherever you choose, forever."