When the traveller had won money at Monaco he had been
unruly, but this had not happened very often. When we last saw him he
had expressed his intention to Mr. Hart of making a return journey to
the Caucasian provinces. But he got no farther than Genoa on his way to
the Caucasus, and then, when he found that Mr. Hart was not at his back,
he turned round and went back to Monte Carlo. Monte Carlo, of all places
on the world's surface, had now charms for him.
There was no longer a club open to him, either in London or Paris, at
which be could win or lose one hundred pounds. At Monte Carlo he could
still do so readily; and, to do so, need not sink down into any
peculiarly low depth of social gathering. At Monte Carlo the _ennui_ of
the day was made to disappear. At Monte Carlo he could lie in bed till
eleven, and then play till dinner-time. At Monte Carlo there was always
some one who would drink a glass of wine with him without inquiring too
closely as to his antecedents. He had begun by winning a large sum of
money. He had got some sums from his brother, and when at last he was
summoned home he was penniless. Had his pocket been still full of money
it may be doubted whether he would have come, although he understood
perfectly the importance of the matter on which he had been recalled.
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