How I hate the very cheerfulness and vapid hilarity of these morning fools who greet other so complacently, and clatter their nonsense about their "tumblers." I could not endure it. The band was now a damned, hellish, orchestra, hired by the demons who had ruined me! It seemed to thrill every nerve in my wretched system, and to send my heart in wild leaps and spasms dancing upwards. I could wish to fling myself away headlong, to get free—to escape—but I was bound fast, as if in a cell in a jail, and did not see how it was all to be resolved! It was as though I had a fortune yesterday and was ruined to-day! It was as good as ruin! Oh, folly! stupidly blind dulness! or rather the devilish infernal perverseness which was lying in wait for me, and choosing the most luckless moment, found a diabolical zest in stopping me at every turn! I believe that—from my soul, I do! There it is, where these demons find their true relish and enjoyment; just as a devilish man would find his in mortifying you, or frustrating your plans. No; it was too exceptional. I don't want to be told according to the cant, "it was all chance," or that the run was against me. I believe, solemnly, it was regularly organised below in the cellars of hell, that they planned the whole expressly because they knew me to be their sure and certain enemy! They might well wish to be revenged; for I did them mischief enough. A fine return I have got, truly! Handed over to them, made their victim, pillaged, miserably destroyed for ever body and soul! Where shall I look for that money? Chance indeed! Could I not show my piles of cards, marked for days, and weeks, and I defy any man to point out such a combination and tell me that I should have stumbled accidentally on such a juncture! No! it has the mark of its satanic authorship. A poor wretch could struggle against a taunting ruffian like D'Eyncourt, but could not play against hell and its master! With coolness, desperation, I should beat them still; they would not be allowed to have it all their own way.
I saw the clergyman of the place hurrying past—he whom I had "set down" so cleverly the first day almost, and who had never forgiven the mortification. He looked at me inquisitively, as if trying to make out particulars in my face, by reporting which he could gain consequence. A fine specimen of the charity that delighteth in the evil of no man! Of course he thought himself superior, though he dared not, for his credit's sake, expose himself to the temptation. He saw all this contempt, and that I read, and had read him before, like a book; and uncommon poor reading he was! So he passed on, but I caught him in the act of looking back. Then he stopped and returned to me.
"You look unwell," he said, "and quite changed. You seem to excite yourself too much."
"If I excite no one else," I replied, coldly, "it becomes my own affair."
"I am sorry to see this," he said, "and, yon will forgive me for reminding you, I did my best to warn you."
"Warners," I said, perfectly beside myself at his impertinence, "would be sadly grieved if their warnings did not come true. In your pulpits you revel in consigning people to tortures and punishments; but, thank God, you have no power to send us there!"
He looked at me a moment, and then said, with assumed quietness, "I am very, very sorry for this. I know your story, and you do me wrong if you think I judge harshly of you. I believe you mean well. You have a charming household at home, and God knows it is hard for even the best of us to stand to our resolutions."
"The best of us," I said, "meaning, of course, you and your cloth—— But come, I do not ask for your official services, and there is no resolution of mine that concerns the chaplain of the licensed gambling hells of Homburg."
I think he must have shrunk under this thrust. I had not lost my old powers of cut and hit; but again he answered quietly:
"I mean no offence, and it is sincere pity that makes me speak. Bear with me. Do not suppose I am thinking of any trifling money loss—twenty, or thirty, or forty, or even a hundred pounds. Numbers of the best and wisest do that, and no shame to them. I myself, whom you would say should be ex-officio perfect, often commit things quite analogous in their way. Indeed you mistake me; I heard you were unfortunate, and as I begged of you before not to go near the danger, so do I now beg of you not to make too much of the danger. It is after all a trifle."
I was a little astonished at this new tone, and even stopped a hard hit that was actually on its way. I suppose he had some object. Very likely the hell-keepers, with whom he was on an agreeable footing, had sent him to prevent anything "unpleasant" taking place, or that might shock the company. He went on:
