rsaken him;
victim after victim fell a prey, and money was amassed. But Angela's
happiness was a thing of the past--destroyed, in a terrible fashion,
like a brief, bright dream. The Chevalier treated her with
indifference--more than that, with contempt. Often she did not see him
for weeks and months. An old house-steward looked after the household
matters; the servants were changed according to the Chevalier's
caprice; so that Angela, a stranger in her own home, found no comfort
anywhere. Often, in sleepless nights, when she heard the Chevalier's
carriage draw up at the door, the heavy money-chest brought up the
stairs, and he himself come up, cursing and swearing in monosyllables,
and shut the door of his distant room with a bang, a torrent of tears
would burst from her eyes, and in the deepest, most heartbreaking tones
of misery, she would call a hundred times on the name Duvernet, and
implore the Eternal Power to make an end of her wretched existence.

"One night a young gentleman of good family, after losing all he
possessed at the Chevalier's banque, sent a bullet through his head in
the gaming-house--and indeed in the very room where the banque was
established--so that the blood and brains besprinkled the players, who
scattered out of the way in alarm. The only person unaffected by this
was the Chevalier, who, when every one was about to leave the room,
asked whether it was according to rule and custom to leave the game
because a young fool had chosen to commit an absurdity, before the
regular time for closing.

"This incident excited much comment. The most experienced, most
hardened gamblers were indignant at the Chevalier's unexampled
behaviour. Every one took part against him. The police ordered his
banque to be closed. He was accused of unfair play; and his
extraordinary luck spoke for the truth of this accusation. He was
unable to clear himself, and the fine inflicted on him ran away with a
considerable slice of his fortune. Finding himself robbed of his good
name, and despised by all, he betook himself back to the arms of the
wife whom he had ill-treated, who gladly welcomed him in his
repentance. The recollection that her father, too, had renounced the
miserable life of a gambler, allowed a gleam of hope to dawn upon her
mind that perhaps, as the Chevalier was advancing somewhat in years,
his alteration of life might be lasting.

"He left Paris with her, and they went to Genoa, her birth-place. Here,
at