Yet you will meet every disaster with a laugh, and will learn nothing. Still keep up your heart, for, although you will live a rough, hard life, you will live a long one. The end is hidden from me, but remember there is often a burst of sunshine at the end of a cloudy day.” Had I been superstitious, this prophecy might have upset me, but, although an Irishman, I merely laughed at it, and in due course of time went up to London and passed my exam. There I was joined by my brother, who was on long leave, and accompanied him to Spa, so as to put in the three months previous to joining the regiment I should be gazetted to. Among my brother’s friends was a Belgian nobleman, who, being a great patron of the turf, owned a string of racehorses and was very pleased to obtain my services as a gentleman rider for that year’s Spa and Liège races. While waiting in Spa to oblige him I got into serious trouble. Among the gang of blacklegs and _chevaliers d’industrie_ who in those days hung about the Continental gambling resorts was a man called Baron Touchais, who with his wife clung to the fringe of the fast society that frequented the tables and took part in the gaieties of the very gay little town. I was quickly introduced to these people, and very foolishly allowed myself to be drawn into a flirtation with the lady, who was a pretty, vivacious little Frenchwoman. The man was a well-dressed, plausible fellow, a past master at all games of chance, who, not having yet been discovered cheating, was still a member of the clubs, and tolerated by the fast set. I, however, very soon got sick of the whole business, and strove all I could to break loose, but it eventually ended in a scene, evidently prearranged for the purpose of blackmailing. The lady, with her hair down, weeping and hanging on to my shoulder, is discovered by the bold, bad baron, who rushes in with a sword-cane, but, getting knocked end over end by a straight left between the eyes, reclines on the floor drumming with his heels and vomiting blue blasphemy.