But it is to the gaming room that we must go to behold the
progress of the terrible drama--the ebb and flow of opposite
movements--the shocks of alternate hope and fear, infinitely
varied in the countenance, not only of the actors, but also of
the spectators. What is visible, however, is nothing in
comparison to the secret agony. It is in his heart that the
tempest roars most fiercely.

Two players once exhibited their rage, the one by a mournful
silence, the other by repeated imprecations. The latter, shocked
at the sang-froid of his neighbour, reproached him for enduring,
without complaint, such losses one after the other. 'Look here!'
said the other, uncovering his breast and displaying it all
bloody with lacerations.

It is only at play that we can observe, from moment to moment,
all the phases of despair; from time to time there occur new
ones--strange, eccentric, or terrible. After having lost
quietly, and even with serenity, half his fortune, the father of
a family staked the remainder, and lost it without a murmur.
Facere solent extrema securos mala.[9] The bystanders looked at
him; his features changed not; only it was perceived that they
were fixed. It seemed that he was unconscious of life. Two
streams of tears trickled from his eyes, and yet his features
remained the same. He was literally a weeping statue. The
spectators were seized with fright, and, although gamesters, they
melted into pity.

[9] 'Great calamities render us CARELESS.'