"do you think there would be any great harm in our—just for once in a way?"

"My dear," said Miss Maitland, solemnly, "I cannot say that I approve of public gambling in general. But at Homburg the company is select. I have seen a German prince, a Russian prince, and two English countesses, the very élite of London society, seated at the same table in the Kursaal. I think, therefore, there can be no harm in your going, under the couduct of older persons -myself, for example, and your brother."

"Code three," suggested Vizard -"the chaperonian code."

"And a very good one, too," said Zoe. "But, aunt, must we look on, or may we play, just a little, little?" "My dear, there can be no great harm in playing a little, in good company-if you play with your own money." She must have one dig at Severne.

"I shan't play very deep then," said Fanny; "for I have got no money hardly."

Vizard came to the front, like a mau. "No more should I," said he, "but for Herries & Co. As it is, I am a Croesus, and I shall stand £100, which you three ladies must divide; and between you, no doubt, you will break the bank."

Acclamations greeted this piece of misogyny. When they had subsided, Severne was called on to explain the game, and show the young ladies how to win a fortune with £33, 6s. 8d.

black, and stops the moment the cards pass thirty. That deal determines how near noir can get to thirty-one."

Severne then dealt for noir, and the cards came as follows:

Queen of Hearts-four of Clubs— ten of Spades-nine of Diamonds: total, 33.

He then dealt for red :

Knave of Clubs-ace of Diamonds two of Spades-King of Spades -nine of Hearts: total, 32.

"Red wins, because the cards dealt for red come nearest thirtyone. Besides that," said he, "you can bet on the colour, or against it. The actual colour of the first card the player turns up on the black line must be black or red. Whichever happens to be it is called 'the colour.' Say it is red, then, if the black line of cards wins, colour loses. Now I will deal again for both events."

"I deal for noir."

"Nine of Diamonds. Red, then, is the actual colour turned up on the black line. Do you bet for it, or against it?"

"I bet for it," cried Zoe. "It's my favourite colour."

"And what do you say on the main event ?"

"Oh, red on that too."

"Very good. I go on dealing for noir. Queen of Diamonds, three of Spades, Knave of Hearts

thirty-two. That looks ugly for your two events, black coming so near as thirty-two. Now for red. Four of Hearts, Knave of Spades, seven of Diamonds, Queen of Clubs -thirty-one, by Jove! Rouge gagne et couleur. There is nothing like courage. You have won both events."

"Oh, what a nice game!" cried

Zoe.

He then continued to deal, and they all betted on the main event and the colour, staking fabulous

Thereupon Severne informed them that half the stakes belonged to him. That was the trifling advantage accorded to the bank.

"Which trifling advantage," said Vizard, "has enriched the man-eating company, and their prince, and built the Kursaal, and will clean you all out, if you play long enough."

"That," said Severne, "I deny; it is more than balanced by the right the players have of doubling, till they gain, and by the maturity of the chances. I will explain this to the ladies you see experience proves that neither red nor black can come up more than nine times running. When, therefore, either colour has come up four times, you can put a moderate stake on the other colour, and double on it till it must come, by the laws of nature. Say red has turned four times. You put a napoleon on black; red gains. You lose a napoleon. You don't remove it, but double on it. The chances are now five to one you gain: but if you lose, you double on the same, and, when you have got to sixteen napoleons, the colour must change; uniformity has reached its physical limit. That is called the maturity of the chances. Begin as unluckily as possible with five francs, and lose. If you have to double eight times before you win, it only comes to 1280 francs. Given, therefore, a man to whom fifty napoleons are no more than five francs to us, he can never lose if he doubles, like a Trojan, till the chances are mature. This is called 'the Martingale:' but observe, it only secures against loss. Heavy gains are made by doubling judiciously on the winning colour, or by simply betting on short runs of it. When red comes up, back red, and double twice on it. Thus you profit by the remarkable and

not, as a rule, alternate, but reach
ultimate equality by avoiding alter-
nation, and making short runs,
with occasional long runs; the lat-
ter are rare, and must be watched
with a view to the balancing run
of the other colour.
This is my
system."

"And you really think you have invented it?" asked Vizard.

"I am not so conceited. My system was communicated to me, in the Kursaal itself-by an old gentleman."

"An old gentleman, or the ?" "Oh, Harrington!" cried Zoe ; "fie!"

"My wit is appreciated at its value. Proceed, Ned."

Severne told him, a little defiantly, it was an old gentleman, with a noble head, a silvery beard, and the most benevolent countenance he ever saw.

"Curious place for his reverence to be in," hazarded Vizard.

"He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was cleaned out, and then he beckoned me."

"Not a man of premature advice, though."

"He told me he had observed my play. I had been relying on the alternations of the colours, which alternation chance persistently avoids, and arrives at equality by runs. He then gave me a better system."

"And, having expounded his system, he illustrated it. Tell the truth now; he sat down and lost the coat off his back. It followed his family acres."

"You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart disease, and his physician has forbidden him all excitement." "His nation?" "Humph! French."

"Ah! the nation that produced

Le philosophe sans le savoir.' And now it has added, 'Le philosophe sans le vouloir,' and you have stumbled on him. What a life for an aged man! Fortunatus ille senex qui ludicola vivit. Tantalus handcuffed, and glowering over a gambling-table; a hell in a hell."

heart Just five old

"Oh, Harrington!" "Exclamations not allowed in sober argument, Zoe." "Come, Ned, it is not disease, it is purse disease. do me a favour. Here are sovereigns; give those to the beggar, and let him risk them." "I could hardly take such a liberty with an old gentleman of his age and appearance-a man of honour too, and high sentiments. Why, I'd bet seven to four he is one of Napoleon's old soldiers."

The ladies sided unanimously with Severne. "What! offer a vieux de l'Empire five pounds? Oh fie !"

"Fiddle-de-dee!" said the indomitable Vizard. "Besides, he will do it with his usual grace. He will approach the son of Mars with that feigned humility which sits so well on youth, and ask him, as a personal favour, to invest five pounds for him at rouge et noir. The old soldier will stiffen into double dignity at first, then give him a low wink, and end by sitting down and gambling. He will be cautious at starting, as one who opens trenches for the siege of Mammon; but soon the veteran will get heated, and give battle; he will fancy himself at Jena, since the croupiers are Prussians. If he loses, you cut him dead, being a humdrum Englishman; and if he wins, he cuts you, and pockets the cash, being a Frenchman that talks sentiment."

This sally provoked a laugh, in which Severne joined, and said, "Really, for a landed proprietor,

VOL. CXX-NO. DCCXXX.

you know a thing or two." He consented at last, with some reluctance, to take the money; and none of the persons present doubted that he would execute the commission with a grace and delicacy all his own. Nevertheless, to run forward a little with the narrative, I must tell you that he never did hand that five pound to the venerable sire; a little thing prevented him— the old man wasn't born yet.

"And now," said Vizard, "it is our last day in Homburg. You are all going to gratify your mania -lunacy is contagious; suppose I gratify mine."

"Do, dear," said Zoe; "and what is it?"

"I like your asking that; when it was publicly announced last night, and I fled discomfited to my balcony, and, in my confusion, lighted a cigar. My mania is-the Klosking."

"That is not a mania; it is good taste. She is admirable."

"Yes, in an opera: but I want to know how she looks and talks, in a room; and that is insane of me."

"Then so you shall, insane or not. I will call on her this morning, and take you in my hand."

"What an ample palm! and what juvenile audacity! Zoe, you take my breath away.'

"No audacity at all. I am sure of my welcome. How often must I tell you that we have mesmerised each other, that lady and I; and are only waiting an opportunity to rush into each other's arms! It began with her singling me out at the opera. But I daresay that was owing, at first, only to my being in full dress."

"No, no; to your being, like Agamemnon, a head taller than all the other Greeks."

"Harrington! I am not a Greek. I am a thorough English girl at

K

heart, though I am as black as a coal."

"No apology needed in our present frame-you are all the more like the ace of spades."

"Do you want me to take you to the Klosking, sir? Then you had better not make fun of me. I tell you she sang to me, and smiled on me, and curtsied to me; and, now you have put it into my head, I mean to call upon her; and I will take you with me. What I shall do, I shall send in my card. I shall be admitted, and you will wait outside. As soon as she sees me, she will run to me with both hands out, and say, in excellent French, I hope, How, Mademoiselle! you have deigned to remember me, and to honour me with a visit.' Then I shall say, in school-French, 'Yes, Madame; excuse the intrusion; but I was so charmed with your performance. We leave Homburg tomorrow; and as, unfortunately for myself, I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you again upon the stage- then I shall stop, for her to interrupt me. Then she will interrupt me, and say charming things, as only foreigners can; and then I shall say, still in schoolFrench, Madame, I am not alone. I have my brother with me. He adores music, and was as fascinated with your Siebel as myself. May I present him?' Then she will say, Oh yes, by all means:' and I shall introduce you. Then you can make love to her. That will be droll. Fanny, I'll tell you every word he says.'

6

"Make love to her!" cried Vizard. "Is this your estimate of a brother's motives? My object in visiting this lady is, not to feed my mania, but to cure it. I have seen her on the stage, looking like the incarnation of a poet's dream. I am extasié with her. Now let me catch her en déshabille, with her porter on

one side, and her lover on the other and so to Barfordshire, relieved of a fatal illusion."

"If that is your view, I'll go by myself; for I know she is a noble woman, and as much a lady off the stage as on it. My only fear is she will talk that dreadful guttural German, with its 'oches' and its 'aches,' and then where shall we all be? We must ask Mr Severne to go with us."

"A good idea; no-a vile one. He is abominably handsome, and has the gift of the gab--in German, and other languages. He is sure to cut me out, the villain! Lock him up, somebody, till we come back."

"Now, Harrington, don't be absurd. He must, and shall, be of the party. I have my reasons. Mr Severne," said she, turning on him with a blush and a divine smile, you will oblige me, I am sure."

66

Severne's face turned as blank as a doll's, and he said nothing, one way or other.

It was settled that they should all meet at the Kursaal at four, to dine and play. But Zoe and her party would go on ahead by the one o'clock train; and so she retired to put on her bonnet-a technical expression, which implies a good deal.

Fanny went with her, and, as events more exciting than the usual routine of their young lives were ahead, their tongues went a rare pace. But the only thing worth presenting to the reader came at the end, after the said business of the toilet had been despatched.

Zoe said, "I must go now, or I shall keep them waiting."

Only one, dear," said Fanny,

"You did, dear; but still he will not go."

There was something in this, and in Fanny's tone, that startled Zoe, and puzzled her sorely. She turned round upon her, with flashing eye, and said, "No mysteries, please, dear. Why won't he go with me wherever I ask him to go? or, rather, what makes you think he won't?"

Said Fanny, thoughtfully, "I could not tell you, all in a moment, why I feel so positive. One puts little things together, that are nothing apart one observes faces; I do, at least. You don't seem, to me, to be so quick at that as most girls. But, Zoe, dear, you know very well one often knows a thing for certain, yet one doesn't know exactly what makes one know it."

Now Zoe's amour propre was wounded by Fanny's suggestion that Severne would not go to Hom

burg, or, indeed, to the world's end with her; so she drew herself up in her grand way, and folded her arms, and said, a little haughtily, "Then tell me what is it you know about him and me, without knowing how on earth you know it."

The supercilious tone and grand manner nettled Fanny, and it wasn't "brooch day :" she stood up to her lofty cousin like a little game-cock. "I know this," said she, with heightened cheek, and flashing eyes, and a voice of steel; "you will never get Mr Edward Severne into one room with Zoe Vizard and Ina Klosking."

Zoe Vizard turned very pale, but her eyes flashed defiance on her friend.

"That I'll know," said she, in a deep voice, with a little gasp, but a world of pride and resolution.

The ladies went down together, and found Vizard ready. Mr Severne was not in the room. Zoe in quired after him.

"Gone to get a sun-shade," said Vizard.

"There!" said Zoe to Fanny, in a triumphant whisper. "What is that for, but to go with us?"

Fanny made no reply. They waited some time for Severne and his sun-shade.

At last Vizard looked at his watch, and said they had only five minutes to spare. "Come down and look after him. He must be somewhere about.”

They went down, and looked for him all over the Platz. He was not to be seen. At last Vizard took out his watch and said, "It is some misunderstanding: we can't wait any longer."

So he and Zoe went to the train. Neither said much on the way to Homburg; for they were both brooding. Vizard's good sense and right feeling were beginning to sting him a little for calling on the Klosking at all, and a great deal for using the enthusiasm of an inexperienced girl to obtain an introduction to a public singer. He sat moody in his corner, taking himself to task. Zoe's thoughts ran in quite another channel; but she was no easier in her mind. It really seemed as if Severne had given her the slip. Probably he would explain his conduct; but then that Fanny should foretell he would avoid her company, rather than call on Mademoiselle Klosking, and that Fanny should be right, this made the thing serious, and galled Zoe to the quick she was angry with