Proceed, Ned."
Severne told him, a little defiantly, it was an old gentleman, with a
noble head, a silvery beard, and the most benevolent countenance he ever
saw.
"Curious place for his reverence to be in," hazarded Vizard.
"He saw me betting, first on the black, then on the red, till I was
cleaned out, and then he beckoned me."
"Not a man of premature advice anyway."
"He told me he had observed my play. I had been relying on the
alternations of the colors, which alternation chance persistently avoids,
and arrives at equality by runs. He then gave me a better system."
"And, having expounded his system, he illustrated it? Tell the truth now;
he sat down and lost the coat off his back? It followed his family
acres."
"You are quite wrong again. He never plays. He has heart-disease, and his
physician has forbidden him all excitement."
"His nation?"
"Humph! French."
"Ah! the nation that produced _'Le philosophe sans le savoir.'_ And now
it has added, _'Le philosophe sans le vouloir,'_ and you have stumbled on
him. What a life for an aged man! _Fortunatus ille senex qui ludicola
vivit._ Tantalus handcuffed and glowering over a gambling-table; a hell
in a hell.
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