is thoughts.
Then, resuming the air of gravity and propriety appropriate to a second,
he added, 'We had everything in our favour, the ground, the weapons, and
a first rate fencer. As he says, it is very odd.'

Presently there was a pause in the dialogue, while their attention was
fixed by the gorgeous colour of the river, spread in sheets of green
and purple under the setting sun. Crossing the bridge the horses trotted
fast up the street of Boulogne. 'Yes,' Vedrine went on, as if there
had been no long interruption of silence; 'yes, after all, in spite of
apparent successes, the fellow is unlucky at bottom. I have now seen him
more than once fighting with circumstances in one of those crises which
are touchstones to a man's fate, and bring out of him all the luck he
has. Well, let him plot as cunningly as he will, foresee everything, mix
his tints with the utmost skill, something gives way at the last moment,
and without completely ruining him prevents him from attaining his
object. Why? Very likely, just because his nose is crooked. I assure
you, that sort of crookedness is nearly always the sign of a twist in
the intellect, an obliquity in the character. The helm's not straight,
you see!'

They laughed at the suggestion; and Vedrine, pursuing the subject of
good and bad luck, told an odd story of a thing which had happened
almost under his eyes when he was staying with the Padovani in Corsica.
It was on the coast at Barbicaglia, just opposite the lighthouse on the
Sanguinaires. In this lighthouse lived an old keeper, a tried servant,
just on the eve of retirement. One night when he was on duty the old
fellow fell asleep and dozed for five minutes at the most, stopping with
his outstretched leg the movement of the revolving light, which ought to
change colour once a minute. That very night, just at that moment, the
inspector-general, who was making his annual round in a Government boat,
happened to be opposite the Sanguinaires. He was amazed to see a
stationary light, had the boat stopped, investigated and reported the
matter, and the next morning the official boat brought a new keeper to
the island and notice of instant dismissal to the poor old man. 'It
seems to me,' said Vedrine, 'a curiosity in ill-luck that, in the
chances of darkness, time, and space, the inspector's survey should have
coincided with the old man's nap.' Their carriage was just reaching the
Place de la Concorde, and Vedrine pointed with one of hi