from other conditions of existence.  I think there can be little doubt of the verdict.  The force exerted is wasted, if you please, but it is enormously great, and more than sufficient to prove that those who daily exert it are by no means idle.  Besides, none of the inevitable outward and visible results of idleness are apparent in the ordinary society man or woman.  On the contrary, most of them exhibit the peculiar and unmistakable signs of physical exhaustion, chief of which is cerebral anaemia.  They are overtrained and overworked.  In the language of training they are “stale.”

Men like Orsino Saracinesca are not vicious at his age, though they may become so.  Vice begins when the excitement ceases to be a matter of taste and turns into a necessity.  Orsino gambled because it amused him when no other amusement was obtainable, and he drank while he played because it made the amusement seem more amusing.  He was far too young and healthy and strong to feel an irresistible longing for anything not natural.

On the present occasion he cared very little, at first, whether he won or lost, and as often happens to a man in that mood he won a considerable sum during the first hour.  The sight of the notes before him strengthened an idea which had crossed his mind more than once of late, and the stimulants he drank suddenly fixed it into a purpose.  It was true that he did not command any sum of money which could be dignified by the name of capital, but he generally had enough in his pocket to play with, and to-night he had rather more than usual.  It struck him that if he could win a few thousands by a run of luck, he would have more than enough to try his fortune in the building speculations of which Del Ferice had talked.  The scheme took shape and at once lent a passionate interest to his play.

Orsino had no system and generally left everything to chance, but he had no sooner determined that he must win than he improvised a method, and began to play carefully.  Of course he lost, and as he saw his heap of notes diminishing, he filled his glass more and more often.  By two o’clock he had but five hundred francs left, his face was deadly pale, the lights dazzled him and his hands moved uncertainly.  He held the bank and he knew that if he lost on the card he must borrow money, which he did not wish to do.

He dealt himself a five of spades, and glanced at the stakes.  They were considerable.  A last sensation of caution prevented him from taking another card.  The table turned up a six and he lost.

“Lend me some money, Filippo,” he said to the man nearest him, who immediately counted out a number of notes.

Orsino paid with the money and the bank passed.  He emptied his glass and lit a cigarette.  At each succeeding deal he staked a small sum and lost it, till the bank came to him again.  Once more he held a five.  The other men saw that he was losing and put up all they could.  Orsino hesitated.  Some one observed justly that he probably held a five again.  The lights swam indistinctly before him and he drew another card.  It was a four.  Orsino laughed nervously as he gathered the notes and paid back what he had borrowed.