dollars to keep by me and for my expenses, and it is
humiliating to relate that all of this, except a small
banknote or two, was taken from me last night by amateurs.
I should keep away from cards—they hate
me, and alone I can do nothing with them. Some
young gentlemen of the place, whose acquaintance I
had made at a ball, did me the honour of this lesson
at the native game of poker, at which I—though
also native—am not even so expert as yourself,
and, as you will admit, Antonio, my friend, you are
not a good player—when observed. Unaided,
I was a child in their hands. It was also a painful
rule that one paid for the counters upon delivery.
This made me ill, but I carried it off with an air
of carelessness creditable to an adopted Neapolitan.
Upon receipt of the money you are to cable me, I shall
leave this town and sail immediately. Come to
Paris, and meet me there at the place on the Rue Auber
within ten days from your reading this letter.
You will have, remaining, two hundred and twenty-five
thousand francs, which it will be safer to bring in
cash, and I will deal well with you, as is our custom
with each other. You have done excellently throughout;
your cables and letters for exhibition concerning
those famous oil wells have been perfection; and I
shall of course not deduct what was taken by these
thieves of poker players from the sum of profits upon
which we shall estimate your commission. I have
several times had the feeling that the hour for departure
had arrived; now I shall delay not a moment after
receiving your cable, though I may occupy the interim
with a last attempt to interest my small miser.
Various circumstances cause me some uneasiness, though
I do not believe I could be successfully assailed
by the law in the matter of oil. You do own an
estate in Basilicata, at least your brother does—these
good people here would not be apt to discover the
difference—and the rest is a matter of
plausibility. The odious coincidence of encountering
the old cow, Pryor, fretted me somewhat (though he
has not repeated his annoying call), and I have other
small apprehensions—for example, that it
may not improve my credit if my loss of last night
becomes gossip, though the thieves professed strong
habits of discretion. My little affair of gallantry
grows embarrassing. Such affairs are so easy
to inaugurate; extrication is more difficult.
However, without it I should have failed to interest
my investor and there is always the charm. Your
last letter is too curious in that matter. Licentious
man, one does not write of these things while under
the banner of the illustrious Uncle Sam—I
am assuming the American attitude while here, or perhaps
my early youth returns to me—a thing very
different from your own boyhood, Don Antonio.
Nevertheless, I promise you some laughter in the Rue
Auber. Though you will not be able to understand
the half of what I shall tell you—particularly
the portraits I shall sketch of my defeated rivals—your
spirit shall roll with laughter.