"The paths of glory lead but to the grave"; the young
Englishman and his luck were the talk of all Monte Carlo, and he enjoyed
his notoriety very much; but, as the poor butler plaintively observed,
what was the good of that when Master Richard was "killing himself"?
How the news was received at the Court I had no means of judging, for
the squire kept a rigid silence, except that he had long conferences
with my father; and Lady Jane kept her room. It was indeed a very sore
subject. The squire wanted to start for Monte Carlo at once; but he was
singularly insular, detested travel, and in truth was very unfit for
such a "cutting-out expedition" as was contemplated. He waited, half out
of his mind with anxiety, but in hopes of a better report; what he hoped
for was that luck would turn, and Richard lose every shilling.
The very reverse of this, however, took place; Richard won more and
more. He would come home to his hotel in the evening with a porter
carrying his gains. His portmanteau was full of napoleons. It was
characteristic of him that he never thought of banking it. One evening
he came in with very bright eyes, but a most shrunken and cadaverous
face.
"This has been my best day of all, Johnny," he said.
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