nothing whatever to pay.

But by whom;--out of whose pocket are all these good things provided?
They tell you at Monte Carlo that from time to time are to be seen men
walking off in the dark of the night or the gloom of the evening, or,
for the matter of that, in the broad light of day, if the stern
necessity of the hour require it, with a burden among them, to be
deposited where it may not be seen or heard of any more. They are
carrying away "all that mortal remains" of one of the gentlemen who have
paid for your musical entertainment. He has given his all for the
purpose, and has then--blown his brains out. It is one of the
disagreeable incidents to which the otherwise extremely pleasant
money-making operations of the establishment are liable. Such accidents
will happen. A gambling-house, the keeper of which is able to maintain
the royal expense of the neighboring court out of his winnings and also
to keep open for those who are not ashamed to accept it,--gratis, all
for love,--a concert-room brilliant with gold, filled with the best
performers whom the world can furnish, and comfortable beyond all
opera-houses known to men must be liable to a few such misfortunes. Who
is not ashamed to accept, I have said, having lately been there and
thoroughly enjoyed myself? But I did not put myself in the way of having
to cut my throat, on which account I felt, as I came out, that I had
been somewhat shabby. I was ashamed in that I had not put a few
napoleons down on the table. Conscience had prevented me, and a wish to
keep my money. But should not conscience have kept me away from all that
happiness for which I had not paid? I had not thought of it before I
went to Monte Carlo, but I am inclined now to advise others to stay
away, or else to put down half a napoleon, at any rate, as the price of
a ticket. The place is not overcrowded, because the conscience of many
is keener than was mine.