It was a more dangerous intoxication than he had supposed it to
be, because more subtle, as the effect of cocaine or morphia is more
insidious than that of alcohol.
Like a hunter, he pursued the game until, to his great surprise, a
croupier announced, "Les trois derniers." It was almost impossible to
believe that he had sat at the table for hours.
By this time Vanno had abandoned all attempt to check his winnings and
losses. It was not until he had gathered up his money and counted it on
leaving the table that he knew he had lost not only his winnings, but
three thousand francs besides. The discovery filled him with a peculiar,
bitter annoyance, as if an alkaloid fluid ran through his veins: and
this not because of the loss, which was comparatively insignificant, but
because he had failed, because he had been ignominiously beaten by the
bank. He had had his luck, and had stupidly thrown it away, after the
manner of all those fools for whom he had felt a superior, pitying
contempt. Still, he was not sorry that he had played. His short
experience of roulette and the curious exhilaration the spin of the
wheel had given brought him nearer to understanding Mary than he had
ever come before, or could have come otherwise. Also, his combativeness
was roused. His nerves seemed to quiver, to bristle with an angry
determination to justify himself in his own eyes, and to have his
revenge upon the brutal power of the bank.
"I'll get it all back from them to-morrow," he thought, "and more
besides.
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