To his own amazement, the pleasure of the game was balm for the
heartache Mary had made him suffer. He did not forget her, or his
repentance, or the determination to right himself in her eyes; yet the
hot throb of his anxiety was soothed, as by an opiate. What he felt for
Mary was but a part of this keen emotion that flowed through him like a
tide.
He remembered the prophecy of his friend the astrologer, in the Libyan
desert, that his star in the ascendant would bring him good fortune this
month of December. Certainly he had not found luck in love. Perhaps it
was to come to him through gambling. He wondered if there could be any
possible connection between the stars and the actions of a man, or the
chances of a game like roulette. Though his studies of the stars had
been confined to astronomy, the romance in him, and the dreamer's love
of mystery, refused to shut the door on belief in another branch of the
same science. It was enormously interesting to think that perhaps the
stars, the planets, controlled this tiny sphere of ivory in its mad dash
round the revolving wheel. Since the whole universe was made up of
marvels almost beyond credence, who with certainty could say "no?"
Vanno was not rich. He had no more than thirty thousand francs a year,
left him by his mother, and had refused an extra allowance from the
Duke. It had been his pride to live within his income, all through his
travels, and despite his love of collecting rare books. His father had
given him his observatory at Monte Della Robbia, but nothing else of
importance.
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