He did not remember clearly what happened afterwards.  The faces of the cards grew less distinct and the lights more dazzling.  He played blindly and won almost without interruption until the other men dropped off one by one, having lost as much as they cared to part with at one sitting.  At four o’clock in the morning Orsino went home in a cab, having about fifteen thousand francs in his pockets.  The men he had played with were mostly young fellows like himself, having a limited allowance of pocket money, and Orsino’s winnings were very large under the circumstances.

The night air cooled his head and he laughed gaily to himself as he drove through the deserted streets.  His hand was steady enough now, and the gas lamps did not move disagreeably before his eyes.  But he had reached the stage of excitement in which a fixed idea takes hold of the brain, and if it had been possible he would undoubtedly have gone as he was, in evening dress, with his winnings in his pocket, to rouse Del Ferice, or San Giacinto, or any one else who could put him in the way of risking his money on a building lot.  He reluctantly resigned himself to the necessity of going to bed, and slept as one sleeps at twenty-one until nearly eleven o’clock on the following morning.

While he dressed he recalled the circumstances of the previous night and was surprised to find that his idea was as fixed as ever.  He counted the money.  There was five times as much as the Del Ferice’s carpenter, tobacconist and mason had been able to scrape together amongst them.  He had therefore, according to his simple calculation, just five times as good a chance of succeeding as they.  And they had been successful.  His plan fascinated him, and he looked forward to the constant interest and occupation with a delight which was creditable to his character.  He would be busy and the magic word “business” rang in his ears.  It was speculation, no doubt, but he did not look upon it as a form of gambling; if he had done so, he would not have cared for it on two consecutive days.  It was something much better in his eyes.  It was to do something, to be some one, to strike out of the everlastingly dull road which lay before him and which ended in the vanishing point of an insignificant old age.

He had not the very faintest conception of what that business was with which he aspired to occupy himself.  He was totally ignorant of the methods of dealing with money, and he no more knew what a draft at three months meant than he could have explained the construction of the watch he carried in his pocket.  Of the first principles of building he knew, if possible, even less and he did not know whether land in the city were worth a franc or a thousand francs by the square foot.  But he said to himself that those things were mere details, and that he could learn all he needed of them in a fortnight.  Courage and judgment, Del Ferice had said, were the chief requisites for success.  Courage he possessed, and he believed himself cool.  He would avail himself of the judgment of others until he could judge for himself.