“She lost all the money we had with us, and telegraphed home for more.  Soon, she had sold out every one of our securities.  Then she won, and went half mad with the joy and excitement, but the joy didn’t last long.  She lost all, again—­literally, our all.  We were penniless.  There was nothing left to pay the hotel bill.  I went out, and found a Mont de Piete, just beyond the limits of the Principality; they aren’t allowed inside.  I pawned all our jewellery, and as we had a great many valuable things, I got several thousand francs.  I thought the money would last us until I could find something to do.  But, without telling me what she meant to do, mother took it all to the Casino—­and—­it followed the rest.

“She was so horrified at what she had done, when it was too late, that she wished to kill herself.  It was a terrible time for me, but I was so sorry—­so sorry for her.”

As the girl said this, she looked full into the young man’s eyes, with her great, appealing ones.  He thought that she must have a wonderfully sweet nature, to have forgiven that horrible, fat old woman, after being subjected to so much undeserved suffering.  It was a thousand pities, he said to himself, that a really good sort of girl should be forced to live her life beside a creature of that type, and under such an influence.  He had not quite believed in the poor child, at first, perhaps, and because he did believe in her now, he felt poignant remorse for his past injustice.

“What did you do, then?” he asked, honestly absorbed in the story, for he was a generous and warm hearted fellow, who found most of his pleasure, in these latter days, in the help he could give others, to make them happier than he was himself.

“I comforted her as well as I could, but I didn’t know what would become of us.  Then a lady, who had a room next to mine in the hotel, heard me crying, and was very kind.”

“I should think she would have been,” interrupted the young man.

“She told me that, as my mother had lost everything, she had better go to the Direction of the Casino, and get what they call a viatique—­money to go away with.  So she did ask, though it was a great ordeal to make up her mind to do it; and they gave my mother a thousand francs.  Then, you know, she had no right to play in the Rooms again; she was supposed to pay her hotel bill, and leave Monte Carlo.  But she gave half the money to a woman she had met in the Rooms, and asked her to put it on six numbers she had dreamed about; she was sure that this time she would win.”

“And did she?”

“No.  The money was lost.  We hadn’t enough left to settle our account at the hotel, or to get away from the place, even if there were anywhere to go—­when one has no pennies.  So my mother begged me to slip into the Rooms, with what was left, and try to get something back.  I had been trying when you saw me, with our last louis.  Now you know why it seemed so good to see a man I knew, a face I could trust.  Now you know why I, who had had such misfortunes, was glad at least to bring you luck.”