But on this occasion it was very different--now, for the first
time in my life, I felt what the passion for play really was. My
success first bewildered, and then, in the most literal meaning
of the word, intoxicated me. Incredible as it may appear, it is
nevertheless true, that I only lost when I attempted to estimate
chances, and played according to previous calculation. If I left
everything to luck, and staked without any care or consideration,
I was sure to win--to win in the face of every recognized
probability in favor of the bank. At first some of the men
present ventured their money safely enough on my color; but I
speedily increased my stakes to sums which they dared not risk.
One after another they left off playing, and breathlessly looked
on at my game.
Still, time after time, I staked higher and higher, and still
won. The excitement in the room rose to fever pitch. The silence
was interrupted by a deep-muttered chorus of oaths and
exclamations in different languages, every time the gold was
shoveled across to my side of the table--even the imperturbable
croupier dashed his rake on the floor in a (French) fury of
astonishment at my success. But one man present preserved his
self-possession, and that man was my friend. He came to my side,
and whispering in English, begged me to leave the place,
satisfied with what I had already gained.
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