s confidences was a heavy
load to carry there, but Bernard ventured to hope that he would deposit
it at the door. He had given Gordon his impressions, and the latter
might do with them what he chose--toss them out of the window, or let
them grow stale with heedless keeping. So Bernard meditated, as he
wandered about alone for the rest of the evening. It was useless to
look for Mrs. Vivian's little circle, on the terrace of the
Conversation-house, for the storm in the afternoon had made the place so
damp that it was almost forsaken of its frequenters. Bernard spent the
evening in the gaming-rooms, in the thick of the crowd that pressed
about the tables, and by way of a change--he had hitherto been almost
nothing of a gambler--he laid down a couple of pieces at roulette. He
had played but two or three times, without winning a penny; but now he
had the agreeable sensation of drawing in a small handful of gold.
He continued to play, and he continued to win. His luck surprised and
excited him--so much so that after it had repeated itself half a dozen
times he left the place and walked about for half an hour in the outer
darkness. He felt amused and exhilarated, but the feeling amounted
almost to agitation. He, nevertheless, returned to the tables, where he
again found success awaiting him. Again and again he put his money on
a happy number, and so steady a run of luck began at last to attract
attention. The rumor of it spread through the rooms, and the crowd about
the roulette received a large contingent of spectators. Bernard felt
that they were looking more or less eagerly for a turn of the tide; but
he was in the humor for disappointing them, and he left the place, while
his luck was still running high, with ten thousand francs in his pocket.
It was very late when he returned to the inn--so late that he forbore
to knock at Gordon's door. But though he betook himself to his own
quarters, he was far from finding, or even seeking, immediate rest. He
knocked about, as he would have said, for half the night--not because he
was delighted at having won ten thousand francs, but rather because all
of a sudden he found himself disgusted at the manner in which he
had spent the evening. It was extremely characteristic of Bernard
Longueville that his pleasure should suddenly transform itself into
flatness. What he felt was not regret or repentance. He had it not
in the least on his conscience that he had given countenance to the
repreh