I
have seen an old man watching a race on which he had planned to win
sixty thousand pounds; his horse was beaten in the last two strides,
and the old gentleman never so much as stirred or spoke. No doubt he
was really transported out of himself; but nothing in the world seemed
capable of altering the composure of his wizened features. On the
other hand, there is one man who is known to possess some four
millions in cash, besides an immense property; this man never bets
more than two pounds at a time, yet from his wild fits of excitement
it might be supposed that his colossal wealth was at stake.
So the whole army of the gamblers pass in their mad whirlwind march
toward the region of night; they are delirious, they are creatures of
contradictions--they are fiercely greedy, lavishly generous, wary in
many things, reckless of life, ready to take any advantage, yet
possessed by a diseased sense of honour. Some of them think that a man
is better and happier when he feels all his faculties working rather
than when he goes off into blind transports of excitement or fear or
doubt. I think that the man who is conscious to his very finger-tips
is better than the wild creature whose senses are all blurred.
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