And he grew more and more discontented with his lot, and more and more angry at himself for submitting to be bound hand and foot and sacrificed upon the altar of feudalism.  Everything had disappointed and irritated him on that day, the weariness of the dinner, the sight of his parents’ placid felicity, the advice his grandfather had given him—­good of its kind, but lamentably insufficient, to say the least of it.  He was rapidly approaching that state of mind in which young men do the most unexpected things for the mere pleasure of surprising their relations.

He grew tired of the ball, because Madame d’Aranjuez was not there.  He longed to dance with her and he wished that he were at liberty to frequent the houses la which she was asked.  But as yet she saw only the Whites and had not made the acquaintance of a single Grey family, in spite of his entreaties.  He could not tell whether she had any fixed reason in making her choice, or whether as yet it had been the result of chance, but he discovered that he was bored wherever he went because she was not present.  At supper-time on this particular evening, he entered into a conspiracy with certain choice spirits to leave the party and adjourn to the club and cards.

The sight of the tables revived him and he drew a long breath as he sat down with a cigarette in his mouth and a glass at his elbow.  It seemed as though the day were beginning at last.

Orsino was no more a born gambler than he was disposed to be a hard drinker.  He loved excitement in any shape, and being so constituted as to bear it better than most men, he took it greedily in whatever form it was offered to him.  He neither played nor drank every day, but when he did either he was inclined to play more than other people and to consume more strong liquor.  Yet his judgment was not remarkable, nor his head much stronger than the heads of his companions.  Great gamblers do not drink, and great drinkers are not good players, though they are sometimes amazingly lucky when in their cups.

It is of no use to deny the enormous influence of brandy and games of chance on the men of the present day, but there is little profit in describing such scenes as take place nightly in many clubs all over Europe.  Something might be gained, indeed, if we could trace the causes which have made gambling especially the vice of our generation, for that discovery might show us some means of influencing the next.  But I do not believe that this is possible.  The times have undoubtedly grown more dull, as civilisation has made them more alike, but there is, I think, no truth in the common statement that vice is bred of idleness.  The really idle man is a poor creature, incapable of strong sins.  It is far more often the man of superior gifts, with faculties overwrought and nerves strained above concert pitch by excessive mental exertion, who turns to vicious excitement for the sake of rest, as a duller man falls asleep.