had neither played nor betted, but had observed the game with
a quiet and watchful interest. This Englishman lodged at the same hotel
as Legard. He was at Venice only for a day; the promised sight of a file
of English newspapers had drawn him to the club; the general excitement
around had attracted him to the table; and once there, the spectacle of
human emotions exercised its customary charm.

On ascending the stairs that conducted to his apartment, the Englishman
heard a deep groan in a room the door of which was ajar. He paused, the
sound was repeated; he gently pushed open the door and saw Legard seated
by a table, while a glass on the opposite wall reflected his working and
convulsed countenance, with his hands trembling visibly, as they took a
brace of pistols from the case.

The Englishman recognized the loser at the club; and at once divined the
act that his madness or his despair dictated. Legard twice took up one
of the pistols, and twice laid it down irresolute; the third time he
rose with a start, raised the weapon to his head, and the next moment it
was wrenched from his grasp.

"Sit down, sir!" said the stranger, in a loud and commanding voice.

Legard, astonished and abashed, sank once more into his seat, and stared
sullenly and half-unconsciously at his countryman.

"You have lost your money," said the Englishman, after calmly replacing
the pistols in their case, which he locked, putting the key into his
pocket; "and that is misfortune enough for one night. If you had won,
and ruined your opponent, you would be excessively happy, and go to bed,
thinking Good Luck (which is the representative of Providence) watched
over you. For my part, I think you ought to be very thankful that you
are not the winner."

"Sir," said Legard, recovering from his surprise, and beginning to feel
resentment, "I do not understand this intrusion in my apartments. You
have saved me, it is true, from death,--but life is a worse curse."

"Young man, no! moments in life are agony, but life itself is a
blessing. Life is a mystery that defies all calculation. You can never
say, 'To-day is wretched, therefore to-morrow must be the same!' And for
the loss of a little gold you, in the full vigour of youth, with all the
future before you, will dare to rush into the chances of eternity!
You, who have never, perhaps, thought what eternity is! Yet," added
the stranger, in a soft and melancholy voice, "you are young and
beautiful,--p